The end is near. Things close. Time is running out. County probably less. The urgency is there. With the fall. The adventure will be closed, will close there. In a room of art school. All traces of my meeting with the territory. Porte du Hainaut and Scarpe Escaut Nature Park. Everything will be there.
Attached. The real work
terminating the residence, conducted, was a passage, a crossing. Canoe, entering the territory to Vred marshes, and across the country, to its other border, Belgium. Just the way a man canoeing on the landscape. The furrow that closes behind him.
The shuttle opened the zipper
space
The path opened by the bow
closed immediately
green again,
color duckweed.
No trace of my passage ...
Just a force that will. Just that. Paddling
. Or pushed by the wind.
Crossing. No trace of my passage ...
No?
If this were the case, exposure would
a tribute to Yves Klein ... Vacuum.
& its metamorphoses.
... but during the crossing (falling?) I could not help:
crunch, notes, drawings, photos ...
if I went into the landscape
the landscape, it is past, I
impossible to be silent ...
silence the meeting
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