My sister married a kind of lizard, which the stomach sated by its Sunday meal, let down his heavy eyelids falling on his happiness to be there.
|Le jour de l'Apocalypse.|
Vif et habile, comme à mon habitude, j'approche la masse dormante tel un Sioux et j'ouvre un carnet sur mes genoux, puis je transmets sur le papier, tel le roseau au vent, les lignes complexes de ce corps anguleux et déginguandé évoquant souvent, dans l'effondrement post-prandial, une chaise pliante à l'arrière d'un pick-up en route pour la déchetterie.
It is in these moments, in the slumbers of his brain stuffed with melatonin, I use to sketch him.
Bright and clever, as usual, I approach him like a Sioux and I open my sketchbook on my knees, then I pass on paper, like the reed in the wind, the complex lines of this angular body,sometimes evoking , in the after dinner collapse, a folding chair in the back of a pickup truck , on the way to the dump.
|Dernier sursaut de vie avant la sieste.|
And every day (or almost), I thank God for leading my steps on the path of that Don Quichote that I like so much to draw.
And thanks to God, he never looks on my blog, because for a folding chair, he runs really faster than me!