abel
it was still a summer evening
even if time was rolling inevitably down the slope of winter
hauling from afar
and the shape of the woman sitting in front of the screen
as if made of cardboard
was full of empty caves
i anyhow found it intelligent to come here
and he was there
working beside her
an ocean apart
but they never thought of those material things
- call me abel she said
and a flow of light went through her
i thought she looked like a neon sculpture
he seemed a margrittean figure made of rock
i remember exactly, i asked them both if they could feel
she was the one who answered,
respect for him
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