I was walking with my head down, my heart tired of everything, even of the sight of the blue mountains, on which, in the distance, a winter sun was shining all its magic and purity. In my hand, a stick felt like it was clutching a bit of humanity. I threw the stick at a grove of purple flowers. The sun made the petals redden. I was moving forward like a train, released at full speed into existence. The moon was waning, the morning gave my eyes a sparkling glow. I had not yet left the city. It was awakening on all sides. A merchant was teasing me in a language I no longer recognized. I wanted to answer him, but my voice was met with silence. With my hand in my visor, I saw a shadow flying over the winter moon. I still had to travel several kilometers before melting into the plenitude of oblivion. A few hours later, my feet bleeding, I arrived at the edge of the city, at the beginning of all things. Where my heart had begun to beat. Its lashes rose in my consciousness like the canvas of a parasol in the wind.
I licked my lips. In the sky, the clouds had taken the shape of a woman’s breast. It rose as I walked towards the river and then suddenly the clouds dissipated. Seeing the unique brightness of the sky, without any shadows, was like a punch in the face and I lay down on the ground. When I woke up, I put a hand to my cheeks. They were almost bleeding from the sunburn. I got to my feet and wobbled again. The clouds gathered over me like disordered thoughts, the sun was giving way to a rainy afternoon. It seemed to me that if I reached out, stars would appear and show me the way to God.
But I had no God, since love had deserted my life. I was standing in the middle of the tide of my memories. I could see the woman of my life stretching her burning body towards me. Her hair intertwined with the curves of the wind and gave her its outline. A court of dry souls raised their hoarse voices towards me. They accused me of having written a romance novel about a married woman, whom I had loved all my life.
I continued my way in the rain. The sun went around every drop, like a snake of light. I thought about love, which makes us men, and which brings us down. The earth became mud, and my thoughts dripped like a trickle of blood into my heat-burned brain. I did not stop walking until nightfall. Then the city lights drowned the rainy sky with their opaque glitter. I knelt down in the middle of the bridge. A few convertibles slowed down at my height. A window lowered, I saw the half-moon face of a beautiful woman and her red dress lit by a long silver stole; but I remained mute. I had to whisper to the wind what the men did not understand. I closed my eyes and leaned firmly against the railing of the deck in the rain. The sun was bursting through the drops. I stroked my collar thinking of his white body suspended in the silence by the cool sunlight.