chapo

chapo

To catch sight of an island from a boat could be more pleasurable than ever setting foot on it - Edouard Levé Do you know the story about the hand imprisoned in concrete, that melted? The story from the human with only bad anecdotes? No, oh, never mind then. It is a mis-memory of memories... You are playing Ping-Pong on a solid outdoor Ping-Pong table You hear a splash The Ping-Pong ball flew in the pool You net it out and persevere Ping-Pong through the ashy heat Later you ash your cigarette gently in the folds of the waves You are seated on the platform that water slowly submerges Haptically ashes get sucked up by pump Do you remember the sky? You left Ping-Pong behind, went to the beach in your friend’s car. It broke down on the side of the road and got towed. You never made it to the beach, but you walked alongside the water later with them, over jagged stones and misplaced, malformed, old rubble. You sat down on an abandoned waterfront stoop Together you sang so your voices echoed like in a fine old amphitheater What a day! What a day! One of the crispiest in memory! Like a long sip Like the shade Like a break in steam Like a breeze Resisting longing, watch the steam scale the stairs, do not breath too deeply - Madeleine Braun

chapo

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