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No nostalgic folklore, no romance to rekindle, no lessons to learn, no regrets weighing you down

I got here in a flat pack and I’ll leave here in bits. Piece by piece, I attempt to keep the peace while time tears me apart. The only sound comes from my belly, not a sound in my head, just complete and utter silence. I should be afraid, panicked, I should confess then regret my confession.


Contrary to expectation, I’m in search of my own place and an expandable bank account. The end fulfils its destiny in many different ways. As for happiness, I’ll turn a blind eye to it even if I’m the last one left in my space. Both a luxury and affliction that sticks to my skin. What could be better than immortality with its trademark on another ?

Text : Souklaye – Translation : Sophie Inge

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