“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
“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… — 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
“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
“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
