"Little gray things hung weakly within trust and understanding have let me down again. Surrendered, "oh, you blackness, I'll unfold my arms and then you can take all of this." The ocean of love is salted with misfortune, the quilt of content sewn with humanness. I'd say this air were empty, and that'd sound so sad but this air is huge and wide, and filled with engravings floating like ash. Sad reminders spread far and wide so I can never breathe again without remembering. Little gray things lapping jerkily down at me divide trust and understanding. God, let there be something somewhere."
Poitiers (Vienne, Poitou-Charentes, mai 2010) (c) p.o.v.