Corinna danced with the shadows while Coenonympha, the immortal butterfly, just watched. In the meantime, the passengers gathered in silence, watching the blank canvas and waiting for the first stroke.
“I could paint for a hundred years, a thousand years without stopping and I would still feel as though I knew nothing.” 1
said the painter, whose hands hovered in the air, ready to kiss the void, but unable to touch it.
The passengers nodded, their heads a sea of assenting waves, and yet their affirmation was empty, for what is a nod if there is no above and below?
In this void, where time and space were yesterday’s concepts, Corinna wondered if Coenonympha ever really fluttered or if we were all just passengers on a never-stopping train.
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Paul Cézanne ↩︎