It seems to me that I hesitate more and more before speaking, as if my mind, drowned in wisdom, had no word to describe how it feels. According to the perspective, one could believe that the weather is noisy, that fatigue is thoughtful and heavy, that everything is fine, in the end, in this ocean of invisibility.
It was very cold a week ago. It was a Sunday, I went shopping at the local grocery store. The sun, very present, could do nothing against the icy wind. There, on the sidewalk, these wings, probably an already weak bird that a cat will soon finish, taking only what could really satisfy its hunger.
I must continue on the theme of light. After work last week, it was still too hot for autumn. People willingly walked barefoot in the park, young people, bare-chested and beautiful, juggling. I was too hot with my vest and windbreaker, as if from a season too far ahead of its time.
Silence, sometimes, annoys me. By this, I mean death, this unbelievable nothingness, this step above the emptiness that the soul eventually makes. I am not afraid of death, I am afraid that I have not lived long enough, very naughty pretense, proud delirium, inability to relax in the face of danger.
Barely twenty or thirty years ago, loneliness was still lived alone, among staggering hours, wandering among our furniture or in bars, between two drunkenness or drowned in silence. Human collisions occurred more rarely, at the whim of these accidents tinged with appointments, as if souls, like atoms more or less hooked, remained stuck in the winter of possibilities.
When I arrived in the neighborhood in 2008, I already noticed this man living above a convenience store. It is difficult to miss him because his window overlooks the exit of the subway. He seems to do only one thing, rocks himself while reading. I don't know him a television, because I don't see the entertainment gleams it would have produced in his apartment. A radio may be gutting its information or its nonsense.
I am, of course, alone in this world, my mind suggests to me every morning. When it wakes up, it analyses the state of the body, usually forgets to tell me about it, probably keeps the best of it to itself. When I swell my lungs, I only perceive my presence there, when I am hungry, it is for my only interest.