The road that connects the home of my parents at my home through a dark wood and dense. Some evenings, like today, I crush the throttle more than it takes to climb the steep tree-lined blackened and twisted by the ink night in which they are embedded. Before me, a column of bitumen rises like a monstrous eel j'éblouis that by my lights dim light. I therefore raise the back of my skull on the warm velvet of my lies head sink into my seat and let my car go up the coast alone. Sometimes I dare close my eyes a few seconds to more fully savor this moment of drunkenness mechanics. Outstretched arm, I guide my car with one hand to the top of the hill where stands the great gate of the municipal cemetery. The slightest movement of the shoulder, however small, is reflected immediately in my arms then on the wheel, causing very slight yaw. Reaching the end of the road, finding the light of street lamps, I slowed down and adopt more responsible conduct. Fleeting sensation, exhilarating and illegal to take off straight toward the sky in a roar of engines, staring at this ocean black crush me, dreaming of hugging Nut and drown me in the folds of her skin sky.
0 comments:
Post a Comment