Pierre Martory, p.5


After several fruitless attempts
Contact was established between the world and me
I felt a deep enough relief
For the solitude and the silence weighed on me
Then I started to speak as if on the phone
Feet on the table where my memory was scattered
A lost look toward the corners of the room
My finger tapping the edge of the chair
And during that time my beard grew
My hair turned white my blood slowed
The reflection in the window came out disappeared
On the wall the lampshade the photographs
Were at last fixed the darkness
My eternity ended on that last word