“You call me but I can't hear. I speak a language you don't know. The body falling by the side of the bed. Eyes closed contemplating the night. I conjugate language that doesn't exist. The imaginary and its child the… — Jeanne Hyvrard Copy Share Image
“I know nothing but my open body giving birth to words. Until the pain is over. Until the end of living. Until the end… — Jeanne Hyvrard Copy Share Image
“They say there should be no crying out. They say what they had closed should not have been reopened. They say that's why they locked you up. They're right. I'm going to die of these words. I'm going to die of being closed in. I don't want to. It's too late. There should be no consent. But I'm not the… — Jeanne Hyvrard Copy Share
“Here again are the words. My enchanters. My companions. Words winnowing the night. The stones of the wine-press. The blood of the hour-glass. Here… — Jeanne Hyvrard Copy Share Image
“You call me but I can't hear. I speak a language you don't know. The body falling by the side of the bed. Eyes… — Jeanne Hyvrard Copy Share Image
“They say they have remedies. Medicines. Drugs. They say I can be cured. They think they know but they refuse to know. They want… — Jeanne Hyvrard Copy Share Image
