Sleep of history. The cards views and prospects
were out of print, or they were fakes, put into circulation
with an official stamp.
Memories? Memories
of family affairs that became public
by the back door; it was only later playing in the sandpit
that national interests came into it.
For a long time the roles
were vacant that were supposed to speak on stage and behind
the scenes, get something moving, animate the emptiness
with the stuff of conflict, manoeuvres, negotiations, with people
who bowed in every direction when
another war was over -
Faceless delegations, car parks
beyond the hills. In winter the green glass cases
are closed. What matters are the moments of being alone
awaiting us beyond the bend in the avenue: it's
like a sudden encounter
- you know that after waking up
everything stops, everything starts, the search
for the right sequence, joining in and playing against the rules.

Translated by Catherine Hales