We move among the things we thought we wanted: a face, a room, an open book and these things bear our names now they want us.

 

 

What we want

is never simple.

We move among the things

we thought we wanted:

a face, a room, an open book

and these things bear our names

now they want us.

But what we want appears

in dreams, wearing disguises.

We fall past,

holding out our arms

and in the morning

our arms ache.

We don’t remember the dream,

but the dream remembers us,

It is there all day

as an animal is there

under the table,

as the stars are there

even in full sun.

 

Linda Pastan, “What We Want”

 

Ο χώρος είναι το Sous Sol.

Done