Once again, the Man had left without saying a word.
Only He was left there, dancing around from one foot to the other in front of Her, lying down.
He was going to slip into her dreams
21.06.2014 // To enter a place. To feel lost in the metaphorical reality and feel the confusion of time. To wander in one’s own labyrinth. But suddenly, two stories come together. My mind breaks apart and I change universes. Realism drops away and I enter a dream. The surreal dream world envelops me and I start my metamorphosis.
In the darkness, the eye starts to see. What is the meaning of life? Existing, that’s all!
Acorda, acorda!!! Open your eyes! She’s there, sh’es always been there, that presence perfumed with orange blossom and acacia, that white smell everywhere in my room. Time stops, and that voice repeats three times: become who you are! Become who you are! Become who you are!
I sleep in the deep of the night. Tomorrow is the last day.
The more I go up the stairs, the more it feels like a voyage back in time, vaporous, permeable to the clamour of the city and the cries of a few cats on the Paris rooftops. I’ve been going to bed early for a long time now, but tonight I do not sleep: I galop, jump, climb. I’m the photographer of room 57…
On the walls, anonymous portraits watch me from the shadows. On the ground, lost words stretch out like distant memories. I have fun in the hotel, with its one-night tenants, and invent stories about lift attendants, missed rendezvous and turned-away lovers, games of hide and seek and robbers in the stairwell. But in the morning, it is all gone, the only remnant the white sky hanging above the Sorbonne and a night of memories to take home with me. Perhaps I got the day or the era wrong, a little lost in my metempsychosis…