Portrait at night, with vulnerability

//Portrait at night, with vulnerability

Portrait at night, with vulnerability

The cat is asleep beside me.
Music drifts in from a café somewhere down the street.
Someone calling from another part of France tonight told me he could see what looked like a full moon. I can’t see it from here.
Someone calling from America told me it was a fine morning in the streets of New York and brings some news, good and not so good.
Someone sends me an email from a train en route to Frankfurt and offers to talk by Skype.
Earlier I did Skype with someone more than a thousand miles away. The sound was unstable and the Webcam image shaky, making my correspondent (and probably me, too) look like a Cubist painting in warm gold and ocher tones.
I answer emails to people on three continents and say goodnight to my son in the next room.
Throughout the time and across the space, I sense not what separates us but rather what we have in common, all vulnerable, nothing to hold, together in this moment slipping endlessly away and forever arising anew.

By | 2017-04-04T06:58:17+01:00 octobre 13th, 2011|Textes|2 Comments

About the Author:

Enseignante Zen et poète, Sensei Amy “Tu es cela” Hollowell est née et a grandi à Minneapolis, aux Etats-Unis. Arrivée en France en 1981 pour étudier la littérature et l’histoire, elle y est restée, s’installant à Paris, où elle élève ses deux enfants et gagne sa vie en tant que journaliste. The Zen teacher and poet Amy “Tu es cela” Hollowell Sensei was born and raised in Minneapolis, but came to France in 1981 to study literature and history and has lived in Paris ever since, raising her two children and making a living as a journalist.


  1. Corinne 7 janvier 2012 at 9 h 54 min - Reply

    I really like this text too. I don’t know why. The first sentence feels like a soft stroke on Sati’s head and goes down to the very center of my heart. The music of the café soothes my mind, while reading about it. It’s dark and gloomy outside though 10am in the morning – a tipical day of January in Hamburg. And I read this text and feel at peace. That’s really the power of poetry – thank you Amy!

  2. Tiago 22 octobre 2011 at 23 h 37 min - Reply

    I really like this text. It’s life just at it is. Just this. Beautiful.

    (and the internet keeps coming and going without having ever left)

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