COVID 19. The TIME.

In the light of my candlestick, three candles, only one is lit. The window is open, two kids, with hoods up, for better protection, pass in front of my window. They escape the curfew to love each other perhaps. All is silent, the two trees, which remind me that we are so far from Paris, do not seem to move any more and the flame, which illuminates my modest residence, dances from right to left and again from left to right; it seems to tell me: "I do not have a mask", by taunting me to be able neither to dance nor to breathe. Ticking like the clocks of another era, time has stopped.
Diane Grimonet