Promotion Marie Curie
He does not move, he does not work, he unworks, he breathes in, he is breathed in. He crosses the desert. It is too late or too early to be a child. The dromedary is dead of thirst, he is more kitten than lion and in any case the dragon is in a museum. He remembers that once there was an ocean here. In these waters, one of his ancestors confronted its inner beast a gigantic sea serpent. He does not remember, he is making it up. Maybe it’s the same thing. He gesticulates, he opens, he works, he expires, he is far from expiry. The wind breathes on his sail of faded images. The wave propels his board into currents where he flails and bursts his lungs into the silence of the drowned. He is surfing towards the mirage. The sirens sing. He is wrecked.