Chronicles of the Indescribable (I)
This visceral, Nabokov-esque jotting was born, alliterations and all, while queueing up at the gates of La Cigale, Paris, last 14 October 2017 to access my first Wardruna show. 13×21 notebook flat open on my left hand, my right one fiercely grasping a tiny ball pen, heart running amok, defences shattered. For the only way I know to express my most unutterable feelings is to jot them down—even when I seem to become badly short of words.
Barely edited, what you read is what it is—and what it is bound to be. The image above is a photograph taken that very night at my hotel room, hence the poor lighting.
need of my nights,
gnawing of my innards.
Wander, fly, grow, for wherever you go
I’m taking you with me
etched on my skin, nested inside my soul.