From wing flap to door slam
The roads of access intersect
The old tracks have been abandoned
There are still traces of my blood absorbed by their asphalt
What is emerging has the shape of a legacy
I have had written my will far too soon
Not knowning how to bequeath what I could assert
Not defending what I could give
I did not know yet how to read
I did not refuse well enough
The insolence of possession
Neither the negligence

February 2015