Rising, the volcano ashes, the sea levels, the fog in a dreaded morning walk. I can smell each of the season’s stereotypes. The public’s chatter in the stores, the back and forth of the clerks, the tapping of the cards in the POS.Memory is a spy dressed in black, walking a la pointe becoming undistinguishable…
I upset the emotional body and destroy democracy. It all burns an eternal flame. I am seduced by the Dunes that have kissed my neck and hair from morning to dawn. Large still paintings adorning a Hamlet flash memories of women souls whose frames I see randomly walking past me. I saw one of them…
I saw it under a heavy branch by the river leading up to the Fjord Center in Geiranger the day I fell in love with Norway. I felt very sad seeing it there, I wanted to know what happened and whether he would be pulled from the water and given a proper burial. I wondered…