Trafika Europe 11 - Swiss Delights
MY MOTHER’S TEARS (EXCERPTS) BY MICHEL LAYAZ TRANSLATED BY TESS LEWIS
We would have to empty the apartment, of course, and leave the region. A bird flew in through the open window and didn’t know how to get out. Feathers are scattered here and there, on the floor and over the objects. The bird’s corpse is here, too. Objects don’t fade from your mind as quickly as you think. Sometimes the objects remain frightening. We’ll bend down, we’ll gather up the feathers and bury the bird in a forest I love, next to a tree that makes me feel calm, a tree covered in moss that smells of freshly soaped skin, a tree you can climb to breathe in other scents, scents you may not know. You say the apartment is an ideal place to talk. You tell me you won’t let me take you into my arms until you’ve heard what I have to say. You add that you couldn’t care less if it sounds like extortion. You demand words. It’s words you want to believe in.
* THE WIND-UP CAR
My brothers and I had a large collection of small metal cars and none of us felt the need to claim ownership of this or that particular model on the grounds that we
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