PROJECT IN PROGRESS
Blue letters
snow is white sugar
melting under the spring sun
recalling the warm flavour of tea and milk
breathing itself in and out through a window’s broken glass
Forenoon
a man eating a sandwich from his coworker
with a subtle three floor chin and a strikingly real, comforting smell of freshly washed, rigid clothes
and a car driver scrolling on his phone and avidly smoking a cigarette (so proud of his car not moving)
— all bathed in sun, scared by the perspective of war.
Apples
Fresh, cosy September sun and first day at school.
Years
Events and family members are quotes of my own emotion associated with the past, as I forget its obscure realism.
Blocks
in the suburban area
men put wooden panels in blocks one next to another
their organic yet artificial smell makes some aired space
for everyone who passes by
Belleville
sweet and heavy perfum contrasting with black, faded clothes
suddenly evoked maternal care and emotional security
Dots
faces and houses and roads tangle fun with facts
they need plasters, silent images speaking louder than memories
forming families like nations without legal systems
