We received this portfolio last week. It was sent to us by Julien Magre, photographer. This intimate homage in the form of a photographic series entitled Buried without fading touched us especially. It’s for that we wish to share it with you in today’s edition.
Force myself to keep my mental images,
Not reject them.
Take the lashings
without knowing when or where.
Suffer in silence.
Understand that this is sorrow
solitary and vicious.
Words fail me.
Words can do nothing.
The pain makes me sick
to the stomach, crushes my bones
and doesn’t leave me.
It Is stuck to me like
a sucker that moves
slowly. An evil snake,
clever and amoral.
Have a body that trembles in
its impotence in life.
Must avoid the night.
Time is too long, Too slow.
Use trickery to go faster than it.
Destroy it. Try to be happy for Suzanne.
A battle against the self. Nowhere to go.
Refuse to run away. Agree to move and
try to hypnotise not moving
there are no more objectives and that’s better.
Pain has taken over
and I have no words to describe
its hold on the body.
This pain has seized power, cynically.
It has spread. I hate it.
It is there, on me, in me.
Like a second body, invisible
but tangible, that clings and devours me.
First it has to be accepted,
then tamed, finally embraced
for it to find its arrogant stability,
its supports and one day, in a moment
of forgetfulness, it will let go and fall
sickly and clumsily
onto the muddy ground. It will suffer being crushed
to death by a shovel or sharp stones.
Kill the pain. I look forward to this moment
with so much impatience.
Laugh for Suzanne.
Since I am still capable of laughing.
Laughing strongly enough for you to hear me.
Laughing will save me.
Eat for her.
Gorge myself for her. Enjoy myself for her.
Tomorrow is not just another day
but another life. Step by step.
Have confidence in no-one
nor in itself, nor in time.
Stay dignified. Stand up straight
half dead, Dead in life.
Don’t hide the sadness.
To what good? For politeness.
Politeness has left me, too.
Take the risk and ensure by
displaying my infamous state of state of suffering
through images and words, to expose it to the eyes of my little world.
I’m not looking for pity or compassion
I’m looking for just one valid reason.
There is no wrong way.
Nobody can help me.
I am my women, on a painful step,
on this steep and lonely path.
I have to watch over my two goddesses,
that’s the father’s role it appears.
So I try to keep to this obligatory role.
I’m not there yet, I’ll get there soon. I swear.
I take on this impotence.
Be alive, without being injured.
Time is slow but it runs fast.
I dream about being with you, Suzanne.
I want to get back with you.
I’m too afraid of never seeing you again
in this abject chaos.
But I dream of finding this promised dignity,
of achieving the honour that I owe you.
You taught me everything about life. 7 years.
7 years of immortal life.
Wait a little, my Suzanne.
I’m going to find you. But for that I must
still fight. This wave will pass
and be silent forever. Keep moving
or don’t move.
Battered life, condensed life.
So I stop. And I always see nothing.
You don’t come back any more. But you will soon be
in my body, my eyes, my stomach.
You will have replaced this unfamiliar body
of pain. It must wait in the shadow
or the light. So it has to run quickly,
but with the rhythm of life, to recapture
this emptiness that separates us and go forward
towards I know not what country, magnificent
and dark. But not expecting anything in particular
just running and laughing until you suffocate.
Make this heavy body scream so that it
rejoices humbly and it destroys
the sucker that strangles me a little more each day
Marseille, Fall 2015.
