• mariemiles

Discovery (2009)

The road led from one room to another. There were stairs between them, nothing horizontal, all skies. But in the new room, closer to the stars, there were two beds instead of one. Their dreams were separated by the unevenness of the mattresses. They thought of finding something to balance their beds ; wood, old cardboard. The streets are full of abandoned curiosities that can have a new life if they are discovered by someone looking. If not, they remain stuck in, yet deprived from, endorsing their role; finding companionship in rust, time passing, weather’s detailed moods, solitude and cats, just like rain. But they got accustomed to the gap and abandoned that idea.

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"I think of myself as somebody not at home, I suppose. Not at home anywhere, not at home ever. But I think of that as a definition of a writer: somebody not at home, not comfortable in themselves in t

The visual field

One can't write directly about the soul. Looked at, it vanishes. --- Virginia Woolf That's because the act of looking is the soul.

©2019 Marie Deschênes

Semi-retired dancer now living in New York

French poet and snob, with vaguely misanthropic moods yet, to her great despair, an undying hope

in what tomorrow may bring.