What is the weather like in dreamland?
In
Before Age
, Cyril Roger-Lacan pushes open the ivory doors that Nerval tried to pass through without falling asleep.
Suddenly the light darkens.
It's about abandoning all your bearings.
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We are in poetic territory.
The author writes as a sleepwalker, he advances in the ravines of dreams.
“
As the sun rises, I squint my eyes
.
» Is it the twilight of the day or the night?
Time passes.
Eternal poem.
Eternal problem.
Cyril Roger-Lacan tries to reassemble it, but only the bird, a statue of feathers, seems to resist his flight.
“
The birds from which stone is made return in the love of age
.”
Also read The Man with a Thousand Faces, by Sonia Kronlund: the lie was almost perfect
The writing mimes this struggle with nothingness.
The author's sentences are short, often without punctuation, as if he were running out of breath.
The words fall.
And sleep returns.
Cyril Roger-Lacan enters into battle with
“the smoker of the dawn
”.
Are we in a dream or a nightmare?
“
Here the suffering is undertow
.”
The eye distinguishes shapes between the eyelashes…
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