October 2013 : Christelle Plessis

PHPA in English

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I open my eyes.

I stop a second, my head is spinning.
My hand places itself on the banister.
Come to my sense, or dream a little more.

On the wall, the scenery goes by,
blue, everything is blue,
end of day mist.

A smell, distant music,
murmurs, not muffled.

On the ground words are scattered.

In the corridors, I get lost.
I sea shorelines and sleeping beings.

In the room, I lie down on the bed.
On the ceiling, people from another century watch me.

I close my eyes.

I wake up.