I don’t regret anything, says the famous song. I don’t know if this applies to me, because to regret, you have to remember, you have to be able to feel the still red marks of specific times. I don’t remember anything, barely that’s a literary lie.
By reinventing the family website (http://familleverville.org), I reviewed some of my past actions without really grasping that it was my soul. These pictures, however, I often see them. They are the ones who forged the idea of childhood, of happiness too.
I can’t find any of that right now. My life is not here. It floats in an elusive present, withers, and sinks into the neck of an hourglass. I cannot regret the present, because it is still there. I can’t remember it since it’s alive, fluctuating and mysterious. It escapes all comprehension, quickly becomes a past that I can catalog, arrange over the other images while the present moment, the now of the English, grabs as soon as possible the possibility of the future with a large exclamation point.
However, I regret wasting this time, this water that slips through my fingers before I have had the reflex to put it in my mouth and drink it like an orgasmic liquor.
I want to pray, kneel down, stretch like idle cats, like satiated lions. Sleep innocently in the present. I want to live. Is this a pious wish? I think too much? Am I not animal enough?
Because my mind feeds on insomnia, furious, eager to build again and again, anxious to catalog everything, because it is Cassander, and no one, not even I, really listens to it. There are people who live without thinking, especially the unfortunate ones who struggle to calm their hunger or pain. I don’t know what I’m complaining about.
I can hear that scream anyway. I am here to say and, tomorrow, although my writings remain, I will bump my head on other flavors.
I remember, says the Province motto. What? I wonder. I still don’t regret anything, the song says again. It doesn’t matter, I think, because in any case, our memories, our photos, the harm we have done, the harm we have caused, the good we have eaten, the good we have given, is for the memory of others. We will soon be dead, did you know that, brother?