The End?

ARTIST'S JOURNEY


One-and-a-half days in a two-room flat

Sharing his space, his shirt,
his sofa, his mug and his fire;
his rug, his bath, his toothpaste

Her canvas...


Then he left:

Passing the pub, the betting office,
the launderette - all was the same,
but he was strangely different

Absent

He bought without thinking
baguette, Brie, red grapes, Burgundy...


It was the greatest distance
he had ever travelled
in the space of only eight minutes:

Returning, he found her
right where he had left her

And when she smiled, he knew
that he had never even been away;
that he had remained all the time

In a place he now knew as

Home