A curious hot winter - At the turn of the year - Sand from the Sahara - Has come to us while we can’t fly - Blown away, it’s now pouring from above - Weeping snow - Weeping sand - Losing notion of geography - Either of the seasons - Knowing indeed - That the river floats decidedly, - Seeing only - The abstraction of its stream - Shall we rely on unfixed things - To make our present real ? - Yet, reality overpassed my imagination, - Light and colors - Like painting strokes - And fishes lighting up the sky - Statistic waves, - Roller coaster of cases, - Park us indefinitely - On the side - Of a road being built - My body is stationary but - Everything moves around, - The invisible above all - Is motionless only in my dreams ? - Cause I do see and feel - The seconds are running - January 2020, Geneva