Unknown territory
It sets off on an adventure
Exploring every corner of this new territory
Creating its own soft hills and valleys
Impervious to the disaster it leaves behind
It sets off on an adventure
Exploring every corner of this new territory
Creating its own soft hills and valleys
Impervious to the disaster it leaves behind
Within the depth of the night
Your spirit in limbos
Your heart, so big and kind,
Decided to let go.
Across the path
A fallen tree
Or is it a branch
This is something I wrote after watching Body and Soul, choreographed by Crystal Pite (one of my favourite choreographers of all times) for the Paris Opera Ballet. A flow of words came to me, raw and underwhelming compared to this mind-blowing work.
“The Monarchs are late.”
All the conversations around the table suddenly stopped. Fifteen pairs of eyes turned, like one of those perfectly synchronized flocks of birds, staring at my great-grand-mother. Nobody had heard my Bila's voice in almost three years. Since her beloved husband had died. We all thought her mind had left with him, her shell patiently waiting for the end.