Mouth to mouth 2004

Chapter I

"Men can do nothing without the make-belive of a biginning. Even Science, the strict measurer, is obliged to start with a make-belive unit, and must fix on a point in the stars` unceasing jurnery when his sidereal clock shall pretend that time is at Nought. His less accurate grandmother Poetry has always been understood to start in the middle; but on reflection it appears that her proceeding is not verry different from his; since Science, too, reckons backwards as well as forwards, divides his unit into billions, and with his clock-finger at Nought really sets off in medias res, into the middle of things. No retrospect will take us to the true beginning; and whether our prologue be in heaven or on earth, it is but a fraction of that all-presupposing fact with which our story sets out." George Eliot

Asa-mi incepe-o carte cu pagini prea albe si coperti gretos de lucioase. Mereu distrug cartile in timp ce le citesc, gen fingerprints de cafea, mina de creion si alte ganduri. George Eliot o fo femeie.

Chapter II

Timpul nu se masoara in pasi in nisip spalat de valuri sau ridicat in castele de nisip. Dar plaja noastra e atat de circulara iar lumea e o mare sau marea e o lume mare. si toata plaja dimprejur e a noastra si soarele ne rasare si ne apune in mare si-n lume. si totul se invarte. si nu stiu de ce ma gandesc la timp cand orice altceva nu are sfarsit.
Sunt linii de cale ferata ce n-au inceput si nici sfarsit, ci doar trenuri si statii si halte. si panouri mari cu ora de sosire si de plecare. in trenul nostru ne compostam pe rand biletele si stam pe rand in scaunul de la geam. si poate n-om fi singurii calatori dar pe altii nu-i pricep si mi-e degeaba sa incerc cand te am pe tine calator. bon voyage !
Sunt pachete de tigari din care poti fuma o tigara de doua ori. E prima tigara, cea pe care o intorci si-o fumezi ultima. in ea ni se amesteca buzele pe degete, degetele prin par si parul pe buze.
Sunt saptamani care incep vinerea la amiaza si se termina peste ani de zile cand se topeste ultima zapada impreuna.
Timpul nu se masoara in pasi in zapada topita de soare sau ridicata in oameni de zapada...

Cat ni-i ceasul? taci si nu-mi spune, inca te mai rascolesc prin melodii, nu-mi zi ca-i taziu ca nu te mai pot crede.



Pendant que la marée monte
et que chacun refait ses comptes
j'emmène au creux de mon ombre
des poussières de toi
le vent les portera
tout disparaîtra mais
le vent nous portera ..