Where pushed me the stubborn movement of so many explorations
Could this be on the edge of a monastic retreat?
The questions abound, plowing the unmitigated

The distances are growing increasingly deep
Into the asphalt of evidences
In the center of the profusion of signs
My place is to redraw every hour
Sometimes I have none
And right here where I won't ever stay

Maybe some part of truth will unveil

Septembre 2015