Friday, December 30, 2005

Still Wet

Exhibit F: arrangement of stones from beaches, S-hooks for pictures never hung, assorted beads unstrung, shells gathered, leaking pens, on a blank sheet of paper, words clinging

Location: a modest studio apartment, rue de la Roquette, La Bastille, Paris, where the revolution began

Time: some hours after she left, late September, 2005

Inscription Reads:

Still Wet

Still wet
From her shower
This morning
The last morning
Morning of silence
Morning of pain
Morning of spaces
Between words unsaid
From her shower
The towel's
Still wet
Still wet
From her shower
The towel's
Still wet


Recording Officer: an adopted Parisian orphan


© Sab Will / Mystic Rhythms 2005
http://www.mysticrhythms.com

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

Brings fleeting memories of love lost, of love regained and lost again, but with time, seems like that shade of comfort in one's youth when one thinks of home.

M.C.

Anonymous said...

Beautiful picture!

¿Acaso solo el dolor puede inspirar poemas tan hermosos?

B

malisan said...

touching and beautiful, i love your sensitivity...

Paris Set Me Free said...

M.C. I'm glad it touched you; a melancholy moment that had to be remembered, sad as it was...

B - Sí, mucho dolor, pero si esto puede inspirar alguna otra forma de la belleza, no todo es perdido...

Malisan, Many thanks for your beautiful comment and for your wonderful blog also...

Sandrine said...

beautiful picture and text! "Bravo" for your talent and sensitivity!
Sandrine

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