BOJANA’S SELF-ISOLATION TREATS >
She picked completely different pieces and layered them with artistic flawlessness. Moreover, all that opulence looks even a bit minimal next to her glaring Bulgarian eyes. These magic series evoked in me a feeling of infinite intimacy. Nelson Algren wrote a poem to Simone de Beauvoir when he fell in love with her in 1947. It was put dow on a little piece of paper. He inserted it between the pages of his new book and gave her before that Air France flight from New York to Paris at the end of their summer romance. She found it in the air and started to sob. It’s about two lovers divided by miles of oceans, kilometers of careers, barrages of languages. But it’s transcendent, I cover myself with that blanket of intimacy in the evening, close my eyes and think about everyone I love around the world. AND how I can’t travel to hug them. Yes, sometimes I travel just to hug people. Is that shocking and unviable? Or is it the only thing that matters?
// à Simone:
I send this book with you / That it may pass
Where you shall pass:
Down the murmurous evening light / Of storied streets / In your own France
Simone, I send this poem there, too, / That part of me may go with you.
