SUMMER

"The beach burns. Gutted by its rocks. Purity is there thicker, where I drowned: the known of birth. A force from which at each moment and in the moment I forge myself. 

I saw, I can say so: uncovered, this morning a tiny and black crested bird, whose name I don’t know and who has no age. In this bird, the only fire.”

Édouard Glissant - Poetic Intention 

SUMMER

"The beach burns. Gutted by its rocks. Purity is there thicker, where I drowned: the known of birth. A force from which at each moment and in the moment I forge myself. 

I saw, I can say so: uncovered, this morning a tiny and black crested bird, whose name I don’t know and who has no age. In this bird, the only fire.”

Édouard Glissant - Poetic Intention