Thursday, August 18, 2016

LYON - Sortilège




     I was living in a tiny apartment in the attic of a church on Cours de la Liberté during what would prove to be the hottest summer on record.  The roof over the attic was glass, so the heat that would build up all day was punishing – like walking in the summer afternoon sun in Las Vegas.  So I would lay there, listening to The Clientele's The Violet Hour and A Fading Summer EP, and try to think "cooling" thoughts.  I would imagine the view of the church – located in an exquisite district right next to the Rhône – from above, then swoop down, mentally gliding over the two rivers and their many bridges.  Then I would do variations of this process, sometimes zooming out even further, looking over not just the church and surrounding neighborhood, but the entire city, and other times zooming in close to revisit tactile details of intricate walking routes from the church to the city's overlook on Fourvière Hill.  The sensation of old stone walls against my fingertips, waxy green leaves under moonlight spilling over the footpath down from Tour métallique de Fourvière, the immense wash of sound swirling around Lyon Cathedral – a conjuring & ordering of a thousand details to cast a spell of sleep.


C’était loin déjà le Missouri et je marchais là, été plein, couleur mauve, j’avançais dans la lumière du soir et je me souviens avec une extrême précision (moi qui ne me souviens de rien) de mes mains s’ouvrant toutes seules comme actionnées par un levier, je me vois ouvert tout entier comme une prune, dégoulinant, libre enfin : je suis tombé à terre dans l’été, j’ai regardé la Saône, j’étais là.

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