| Goodbye
for Jannie - 2008 It’s Autumn. Birds have migrated to the beauty of south, the inevitable happening, you too migrating to the most southern part of your tongue, unable to hold on to the sky, escaping the firm grip of our hands, hour-glass of flesh and blood. I dial your number for the last time: ‘Met Jan. Laat asseblief een boodskap*.’ ‘It’s Autumn. Goodbye.’ * Leave a message |