I sit in between streets, in between ageing and learning,
learning to forget and trying to remember, eating time
before it’s cleared away as people pass, some looking
and leaning, some desiring to linger, longer, not knowing
I’m soon to be going, not noting I’ve been removed
from the menu, replaced in his city of time forgotten
thoughts; what we heard last night on the wind;
an echo, only, of the applause already appeased.
The bleachers are seats for shadows now, standing
in the fading light; trickling dust in their final flutter,
see the sparkle of the fall,
an acknowledgement of what grounded us together,
once, here, on these streets my shadow is slipping from.
All words and pictures by Damien B Donnelly.
This month is about enjoying my final sparkling meal before I am remove myself from the menu of Paris.
Mike Powell
Once again your long shadow, Damien. You seem to be a fan of them, producing what I called a Giacometti man, when you showed me a similar photo on your phone. I hope there is nothing symbolic about the Van Gogh flowers. I mean, it is ok to leave your heart in Paris when you depart, but you should probably take both of your ears with you. 🙂
deuxiemepeau
Me and the Giacometti man get along very well, he is dark and tall and always almost out of reach and yet somehow still attached. He’s more ahead of me than I am myself, a head or two more in height too!
I will now consider packing the ears! 🤭😂🤗
Mike Powell
I smiled when I read your response this morning, Damien, as I recover from food overload yesterday. It’s a very traditional American thing to do on Thanksgiving–the turkey is not the only thing that is stuffed.
Paula Antonello
🌟Incredibly powerful and moving! I will definitely miss these fine brilliant observations of daily life. I wish you the very best my dear friend and hope to stay in touch on other platforms. Best of luck ahead. 🎈
deuxiemepeau
Thank you Paula. Don’t worry- we will definitely stay in touch! I promise!
Now off for my last day at the office 😱 😘