LEGERDEMAIN

frost eats away the fingertips of one crisp cold morning

sharp

cutting through yesterday’s dreams frozen to an impasse

tram of thought moves the Prague night to the 5 o’clock sunrise

where I am the audience

overwhelmed by the ignis fatuus

L’Arivée d’un train en gare de La Ciotat

I’m every man peering through the unedited view of everyday life

black and white

and splash of grey

the Lumière brothers are nowhere to be found

whilst in the brittle morning

life readies to continue rolling and be captured by the dichromatic lenses of passers by

and so I shake the hand of Henry de Parville

What a power of illusion!

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