Just let your presence noted. Crestfallen, we watch day and night trying to shelter you from the rubble, while leaving little trace behind you, tracks that make you feel a little less alien to us. Your sleepwalking
zigzag between our routines is confused and shy, is subtly hidden, almost in a whisper, so as not to disturb our daily lives. Only small furrows drawn on tile witness your quiet walk.
However, despite all you are. But you sneak. Withdrawn as a guest, you are. You are in our waking and our yawns. You are in the coffee grounds and tucked between the cushions. Among the pages of our books brownish and with the ink spilled on the desktop, you are. And so I just.
Paris, November 23, 2008
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