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A lost civilisation fills my solitude as the lights go out

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As the days pass by professional masks emerge from childish shells. Time washes over me nurturing my cemetery of  memories and, unconsciously, as usual, I surround myself with a cour des miracles where every satellite imitates the sun. Meanwhile, as communitarianism makes a profit in a single click at the same time taking part in a Third World War, my universe is reduced to informing mirrors.


But between the cult of boundaries and the dictatorship of the coffee machine, despite myself I end up coexisting with my fellow man. Since they take me for one of those domesticated idiots, I might as well make up a story worthy of fraud.

Text : Souklaye – Translation : Sophie Inge

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