Write your love letters on the skin of the trees, the page of the meadows, the faces of the roads, the sleep of the alleys, the soul of the stones, the look of the mountains. Write write write
Write your love-beings on the loose leaves, coffee-table cloths, cardboard sub-cups Delicate notebooks, airy books, windows wide open so that the sky resonates with your vowels. Write write write
Write your tunes of love, for the secret of the granaries, the bottom of the cupboards, the hidden drawers, the trunk of the journeys, for the enchantment of a piece of paper which appeared many years later from the inside pocket of a old coat we were going to get rid of.
To too much mailing the moods mixed with emojis die the pencils, the reason of the heart is lost, which took hours to say the touching, the nuance, the scent of absence. Emails have no smell, no past on the pallor of computers; ephemera they fade from the memories, disappear with a sharp blow, a click in a cloud, a clack in a hard drive of course, external to avoid the injuries of the ex, files classified x, without continuation. While it was necessary to have the patience of the pain to close the stories, to have the heart torn to tear a letter and the slowness of the sea to erase the traces on the rock, the wet sand of his body, there, barely a headache and internet, social networks will do the rest ...
HDN November 2018