Mise and Abyme


The couple left the gallery at 7 pm and walked arm in arm with each other to the opaque bar at the corner. It was a winter evening, when the streets were empty but the rumour of the city remained in the echo. The couple sat at counter and adjusted their legs; he lighted up a cigarette and then ordered a coffee.

-Thanks, Erwin

– Did you like the exhibition, Poppy?

– Oh, yes of course, I used to see this Hopper’s painting in my art class, and staring at it I believed I could have done it, so easily, but today I realized I couldn’t have: he is a genius, so precise and so sensitive to light…pfff, I don’t know how to say it, really, I would like to sound as an art critic, but I can’t!

-Well, what did you like the most?

– Oh, I couldn’t find a favourite one, but I like the fact that they are so silent. Do you like this one of mine?

-I wouldn’t sa…

– Maybe I am confusing you again, I didn’t mean to sound pretentious, like that small high school girl.

-I meant, I wouldn’t say so. Hopper’s paintings speak a lot to me, I can begin a proper dialogue with them… maybe you look to much, suspicious monkey; Instead, you should approach his paintings with your soul.

-How can you have a conversation in those static and surreal landscapes? They make me feel excluded. Moreover, Erwin, you communicate only when you need to, otherwise you keep quiet.

She glances the barman; he is bewildered. She lowers her eyes towards the lighter in her hands.

-You know, I believe that everything we see is a prediction

-ah, like me! Am I so predictive?

-Well your harassment is, eheh.

-Would you like me to leave you alone in this solitary place now?

-No, please, Poppy come on, stay.

-Okay I won’t leave, but you are wrong because you could not predict whether I’d stay or not

-What do you think, I know you have finished your cigarettes and that you love smoking at night, in bars…

Ding Cling

A man enters, shadows are behind him and the fresh air finds its way through the door, the lights tremble softly, Poppy clings her head, the man goes strictly to the stool. He too, lights up a cigarette and then orders a coffee rising his finger above his head.

-She catches a glimpse of the smoking lips at her side and then goes back to the lighter, lights it up and looks in front of her.


Dällenbach, L. (1989). The mirror in the text. 1st ed. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Blnchot M. (1993).The infinite conversation. 4th ed. Minneapolis and London: University of Minnesota Press.



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