Tag: France

Some questions don’t warrant a question mark.
Conversation is precarious.
Stones don’t care if you tell their story nicely.
That first entry. Crossing the border of consciousness into, into what?
You have to keep finding it, keep having it find you.
She visits others
Wasn’t that always the truth about things?
Why had he let her control him like that?
The wind howled like a cartoon ghost in a haunted house
It would be his life’s one adventure
Can you imagine?
Will we have to evacuate?
He hadn’t slept at all
If you make eye contact, it’s like an invitation
He had nothing to say
Another time.
That was the cruel blink of fate’s eye.
There you go. Sweet dreams.
They’d dance around him
Were they completely in their own world?
He felt he might sit there until he turned to stone or drew his last breath
Had he been really happy there?
Oh, I like this neighborhood already!
I was just going to take a look around
This was bad timing
When he saw where he was, he couldn’t remember how he’d got there
Maybe he should invite a tourist over for dinner
You couldn’t just stare into the darkness with binoculars
Nobody has to do anything. Life goes on
Sometimes in the evening he walked barefoot
It doesn’t look right there
There were too many memories
He still dreams of the river
They’ll wonder who you are
I’m frightened of dying
I feel lonely
They sit quietly for a long time
Maybe there isn’t a right word
This is the most frightening dream of all
He wakes in the middle of the night gasping for air
Anyone would have done the same thing
I’m a stone, I’m a stone, I’m a stone
He sits and listens
He sits very still
I’m afraid of being alone
Walls gossip all the time
You’re all right now
He has never felt so old
So many lost things
An ant walks over his finger