Dichotomie

 

What we’re listenning to sometimes spy on us,

contemplating us, sending us back our thoughts.

Manifold loss.

Waves already break up on drift-ice.

Let us alive on a greasy shore.

Into the eye of a slow hurricane.

A dying cigarette.

Very last breathe of grey before the night.

 

J.H (2004) translated from french to english by S.C