In the magic of a summer’s day, I stumbled upon bliss in an enchanted clearing.
Naturally I snuggled up to her, without even turning my headcam off, as if the origin of the world was to be found at the end of the path.
Without so much as a blush, she looked me in the eye and said:
Where are they going in their senseless gallop?
Swapping their skis for bikes,
Running through the hills,
Never fulfilled,
Eyes fixed on the control panel of their social likes,
While the cycloptic eye of their mounted camera,
Captures every detail of their bravery,
Before removing all the dead space,
And serving up a modified version of their chase.
Jag
Félicité : Natalia
Caught off guard, I stuttered that you have to live your dreams and you have to then share it because, if not, how would people know you did it?
Uttering these words, I felt as though I had been transported to the land of dreams and the unconscious. I was at the top of a mountain with magnificent slopes overlooking fertile valleys. Irresistibly attracted by the lush grove below where I could just make out nymphs frolicking through the spring fields and fauns playing tunes of love on their delicate instruments, I set off towards this terrestrial paradise with glee.
But suddenly my feet were stuck in some kind of glue. As I tried to launch myself into the slope I kept getting stopped in my tracks and taken back to the top. A man wearing spectacles and smoking a cigar leaned towards me and said in a Germanic accent: “Turgid thought! The mountain, the glue, the perpetual return, your quest is without question sexually driven.”
Good God, I thought, if the leading figure of psychoanalysis reckons that the call of the mountain is just a derivative of infantile sexual impulses, the world could be crumbling down. Mulling it over, this intellectual development led me to a most sordid revelation. Imagine if the truth comes out, we’d no longer need to go and look for excitement in the mountains. But above all, considering the narcissistic explosion of videos online, we’ll have no alternative but to gorge ourselves on the wealth of intimate footage of everybody else’s conquests…
Translation : Paul MCKeen
Jag
Félicité : Natalia
