moodindigo

words are lost, only pain, stone paralysing pain

At some early point of my questioning upon love and loss, I discovered a writing about mourning in ancient Greece. There a widow would be allowed to mourn for years after the death of her husband. It took four years for Justine Levy to start living again after the departure of her man. She said ‘Rien de grave’ to fool the other but she could not lie to herself.

For one brief moment I had an aperçu of what life could be AFTER. It almost felt as if I could love and be loved back. Five seconds later it had passed, but those five seconds are still vivid for me and they mean hope. The incredible ability of life to reconstruct itself inspite of myself.

Back to here and now.
As long as i haven’t creid all the tears, regretted all the regrets, written all my despair, bref touched bottom ground, there’sll be no end to it. No life to it.

There are good things that happen to me though. Latest fuzz? Someone moving in with me next week. I think in the back of my mind there is the secret hope that something insaissable will occur, something anodin, qui fera déclic pour Dieu sait quoi.