dans ma rue — (at)willi_wonka on instagram

She didn’t see anything besides crammed garbage and dust.

Suddenly, Vivian saw all her days inundated with a lazy, rotten, deep black emptiness.

Usually, she was the most normal person you could imagine, but now, without any explanation, Vivian had simply opened her eyes and seen all the things that she hadn’t done, that she’d forgotten on the road to the bakery, in the papers of the office, in her youth’s faith, that had died without a worthy funeral, years ago.

Vivian looked around and didn’t see anything, anything besides crammed garbage and dust.

So, she got scared and she cried.

After that, Vivian took a few clothes, her favorite shoes, some photographs — too old for someone else to see anything -, all the money that she had, and a dissonant violin that was under the bed. She left and closed the door. And she didn’t look back, and she never came back.

Suddenly, Vivian had stopped dying. 
Now, Vivian was a symphony.

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