Untitled / Émilie Fatton

At the dawn of autumn
Searching for daybreak
No need to besiege it
It’s given to me
Just an effort, an insignificant one,
Extracting myself from bed the moment that the dark starts to die
Not tidying myself up, not cleaning my face up of a night finally granted Unlocking the door
Going down three steps
Walking about fifty meters
Going rough in the raw, radiant and unbridled towards the dazzling light Making serene progress towards the forerunners of fire
Sitting down, unstable, on a large stone; actually more of a boulder overhanging the vastness
Waiting for a handful of seconds
The world awakens so fast
In the twinkling of an eye, the sovereign peace already slips through my fingers
The ghost of Rothko is never a long way off, he’s just down the back,
who wanders across the hills and over the sea;
I reap paths amongst the vineyards
I reap a breadcrumb trail towards the rising sun,
I reap a line to the horizon
I reap the promise of mindfulness
And late harvests as good omens


Émilie Fatton is a misanthropist who falls in love with people every single day, spends most of her time complaining – she’s very French – but her questioning spirit is counterbalanced by daily outer injections of inner states of amazement. She could (probably) live without food for several days but would never venture to try to survive a day without music, images and WORDS. She even gets them under her skin.

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