25 March - 29 Avril, 2023
"Une ville finit par être une personne" – Victor Hugo
Trudging alone through the heated city, backwards over concrete, dispelled, disheveled, dissolved and disarray. Sirens jet past, in a panic.
Spit out and pitted, like the olive I was stirring, in a flash, transplanted. A cosmic explosion unroots these toes from this cement tundra.
A jump too high propels me to the sun, staying too low sucks me down. Fear pulls me
It’s perpetual. Peeling open the wound as liquid chrome pours out of the crevasse. Tripping over heaps of ash, shattered beneath the pavement.
Asphalt acts as ideal landing. Imploding cells provide a pad for entry. Inner organs harden, soften. Mucous membranes melt into metal. Plastic protects me.
Subterranean layers steal a frenzied pulse. Catacombs, plagued by rats, circumference an eternal shell. Stillness keeps them haunted.
Twitching eyelids stagger sight, blurring earthly matter. Craniums combust, exposing cracks in the network. Circuits break and systems shatter. Seconds left on terra.
The underground makes a final lap around the metropole.
Sanguine I remain. Cellular connection terminated.
Unto Dust was realized during the ongoing protests against government reforms in France, and is guided by similar forces of exhaustion and resilience.
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