A l’heure d’hiver

Absorber autant de soleil que possible.
Changer la position du transat au fil des heures et faire ainsi du transat l’aiguille qui indique l’heure sur le cadran solaire.
Lire un, deux, trois, quatre livres en une semaine.
Chausser les sandales pour aller dîner dans un petit restaurant de pêcheurs.
S’arrêter auprès d’un joueur de flûte.
Etre assis sur le mur au-dessus de l’océan, longtemps, très longtemps.

(Les îles Canaries, 2011)


About atreewalker

It was a warm spring morning in the olive grove. The breeze was gentle, the air was fragrant, the time stood still. High grass, sprinkled with colourful small-headed flowers, was gently tickling my knees. Poppies were about to splash their intense red on the antic ruins. 'Look how beautiful it is all over', I whispered to the olive trees, 'a perfect time for a stroll.' I slipped my fingers into the open palms at the end of their branches and I took them for a walk. View all posts by atreewalker

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