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

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Patagonia

Her lips stretched and spontaneously curved into a smile,
first in the darkened room,
then in the warm bathing of afternoon sunlight -
as though the foundations of my favorite bridge were being laid out again;
her sweetness overpowering my own.

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