Alone

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Alone

A long day nearing its end is steeped in silence and dark.
Now a car rumbles past outside.
Now it’s gone.
Through an empty glass on my desk, the corner of an image appears, a postcard of a Toulouse-Lautrec painting that I love, a reclining woman wearing long black stockings, entitled, « Seule. »
Tonight, although I have no stockings, black or long or other, I’m her.
Alone.

By | 2017-04-04T06:58:16+00:00 janvier 12th, 2012|Textes|1 Comment

About the Author:

Enseignante Zen et poète, Sensei Amy “Tu es cela” Hollowell est née et a grandi à Minneapolis, aux Etats-Unis. Arrivée en France en 1981 pour étudier la littérature et l’histoire, elle y est restée, s’installant à Paris, où elle élève ses deux enfants et gagne sa vie en tant que journaliste. The Zen teacher and poet Amy “Tu es cela” Hollowell Sensei was born and raised in Minneapolis, but came to France in 1981 to study literature and history and has lived in Paris ever since, raising her two children and making a living as a journalist.

One Comment

  1. litle lake 14 janvier 2012 at 20 h 27 min - Reply

    If real – there is always that existential loneliness on the background – like a white sheet of paper we draw our lives on. Memories of oneness or not.

    Melancholy, tristesse makes our laughing deeper. Our smile more sincere. Our love warmer.

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