Toufic Izeddiou

“Spaces shrink, imaginations grow.

The doors of my presence are closed, the doors of memories open.

Plenty of time to have things in order.

I hear my inner voice talking.

Talking now after all this time of reaching out to me in vain.

I am sitting in front of it, day and night.

How tired it is of my insistent presence.

How I hear the sound of irony in its vibrato,

Making me understand that I am nothing and everything.

All the same now.”