AS HE WALKS AT NIGHT ON THE COLD STREETS OF
THIS STRANGE EVENING, THE FOG BLURS THE LIGHT,
LIKE A STAIN FADED ON THE CLOUDS. MELTING.
EVERYWHERE AND NOWHERE AT THE SAME TIME,
STREET LIGHTS INVADE THE SKY WITH A YELLOW COLOUR.

A CAR SEEMS TO BE APPROACHING FROM THE DISTANCE,
FOR ALL HE KNOWS, IT COULD BE SOMETHING ELSE.

LINES ARE DANCING THROUGH THE NATURAL BEAT OF WINTER,
CURVING THEIR HIPS, ABANDONNING STRAIGHTNESS : AS DOUBTFUL
AS THE SOBRIETY THAT RUNS HIS VEINS.