Cambodge, carnet de voyage, printemps 2010.
Neuvième grain de riz sous la langue
5 AM in the fields
Overpopulated, I flee.
A knife in the hand, a pen of blood, I kill for a living.
I write myself another life.
My hands clench on a neck in hope of a future.
The eyes, the legs, the muscles, the corpse resist, life fights.
Tomorrow will open wells. Meals are awaiting. Sun shines even on our crimes.
How to forget ? Who will remember ? Who am I ?
I am your shadow.
I am your monster.
The corpse is silent.
The corpse is cold.
Inside it, there is a world. Inside, there is the universe.
Inside, there is tomorrow. My meat is yours. Mysteries dried up. My soul is crushed. I hate.
I learn fast.
But I know beauty exist.
Debut de la série "L'AN ZÉRO"