I am living in front of the ocean, I don’t know which one, only “the ocean”.
I am living near the river. I am living and everyday, it’s rainning.
Everyday I look for the ocean, for the line formed between sky and sea, and for hour I don’t know what’s happend
somewhere else, and I don’t care.
From the moment of my first remenber , I mean consiously, I feel like this, don’t care about nothing.
More than a memory, it’s the only feeling I always keep, before identity, or consiousness.
My world ‘s apprehension had only this general line: nothing.
I live in front of the ocean, but it’s not ocean, or water, the most important is the front, and I never wanted to know what was the back, so I look at the front.
I am not loving the ocean, I’m feeling the ocean, I’m feeling him. All his molecule are in conversation with mine,
from his origine to his end, when it will come.
My knowledge grow then disepear, as cloud arrive, obscure sky, and leave, letting traces behind them.
In the past I had a lot of visit, people come from far away to know me, to discover freedom sensation; or lost interior landscape, things like this.
In a far away past I had value, because I was synonymous with liberty, all horror or happiness that was associate. War, conquest, blood, freedom, hope.
During a part of humanity history, I had been ignored, forsaken. Not a question of mode, just a decadence of
imagination. During this hard time I had learn how much powerfull I was. I prepared a revenge.
My power is silent, and my force is without limit. Empire they had build could collapse at every-moment.
Now, I had extended myself on a big part of the world, my loneliness had grow and grow, perhaps am I totaly alone.
Everywhere I had risked my presence I was received with fear and flight.
It’s too late to look back, I am the last emperor.
I am the ocean, in front of my own reflect in the sky, feel alone in the deep of the galaxy…