Et de ratage en ratage, on s'habitue à ne jamais dépasser le stade du brouillon.
La vie n'est que l'interminable répétition d'une représentation qui n'aura jamais lieu.

---Hipolito, Le fabuleux destin d'Amélie Poulain

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Lullabies

And she heard the sweet tunes escape through those lips, while she was quickly becoming deeply immersed in darkness, solaced by that shoulder and the nape of that neck. The piano, the viola, the violins, the guitars - all strings intertwined and converged with her voice.
"Lullabies," she had said the next morning.
"I heard you sing lullabies while I wore a cherry mask;
while I was away - even from sunless lands."

No comments:

Post a Comment