The sky has no wrinkles.
Nature, trees,
Plain, forest,
One village,
And the shadow of your passing through.
• • •
Empty sky.
He is still talking.
Empty words too.
I do not understand.
Crossed the bridge,
On the other hand,
Only light.
• • •
Ivan de Monbrison was born somewhere in 1969. But he has never really been anyone. A ghost since birth, he is never really anywhere.