Gyorg Kiel

Gyorg KielThose last few weeks, I
raced to finish
writing my memoirs
before wasting
away completely.
But every night
in the hospice, I
had the same dream.
I was writing on
parchment, which was
really my skin. With
a fountain pen,
that I kept dipping
in an inkwell,
that was also a
canal like in
Venice. And I’d hear
Dietrich say that
line from the end of
that movie. “What
does it matter what
you say about
people?” Over and
over, every night.
When I woke, my pen
was stilled. Every
day, I wrote less and
less. It was still
unfinished the day
I did not wake.

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