TROP PROCHE

„Reflecting that subtle, internal shift 

– touching ourselves not to feel, 

but to understand that we don’t.”

You think you know. And then, no. You don’t. Not memory, not skin, not the weight of another’s breath. Not really. What remains is a presence without sound – a nearness that erases borders, a gesture paused before it becomes touch. We are powerless against our time, but we remember. We remember the trauma, the love, the loss – and we try to understand.
  
(Marguerite Duras knew: Love and war occupy the same room in the dark.)