|
He conjures up the horror of
emptiness by giving birth to images drawn from his memory, the naked
body of his beloved, the radiant life-force of that body dancing in his
memory, the smell of the ocean or the forest, the gesture she made that
day and which he recalls, recalling it each time slightly differently,
was it during the day, the night, memory is uncertain, sometimes vague,
sometimes prolific with hallucinating details, always a bit a liar,
maybe not. Maybe it makes up true memories. Perhaps the incantation will work and there the sweetness in the summer wind and the silk of naked breasts will be present to him once more. Or maybe it's a long goodbye... |
back |
next page |