MEMORIES OF THE MIST
With time, the features drawn by his memory faded.
Flashes came back to him from time to time:
the violence of the torrent,
the sound of the level crossing,
beside which he had grown
and which animated his brief insomnia.
But the corn fields,
the road,
the birches,
the canal of his childhood had also ended up
being forgotten in the mist.
And now the faces
also had lost their features.
And rather than cause anxiety,
this layer of fog had a cottony softness
that relieved him of the torments of his regrets.
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