Cars friends noise and life Eté 2006

Cars, friends, noise and life
Will I ever feel alive ?
Nothing much inside


It started as soon as I lifted my pillow to make my bed this morning. I knew it would be hard. A faint recollection of my dream came back to me : I dreamt of The Magic Flute. I keep on dreaming of the Magic Flute. But the impression of my dream was dim. It was not piercing my heart. When dreams do not pierce your heart, it means thoughts will not pierce your soul. It means it will be hard to feel, hard to get a grip on what is happening on the outskirts of your thinking.

I feared. My fear was to be swallowed by routine, the way it often happens. In Italy, things had been different. In Italy, there was hardly ever anything but I could make something out of it, something out of nothing. For I had my precious river of words that flowed steadily. Things were different here. I knew I was surrounded by cars, friends and life, and I might as well get lost in the hustle and forget about my thoughts and feelings. Which were the most precious things.

Tonight, I am going out. I hope that being confronted with the shape and colour of the outside world will give shape and colour to my words. I need some life to breathe, some thoughts to feed on. I think of Amelie Nothomb's tale on a tube, and I figure I could be one of them : physically functioning - breathing, swallowing, digesting, excreting - but mentally dead.