NOUS NE SAVONS PLUS LIRE______________________________________
WE ARE NOT HERE
Jenana, an allusion to the unknown. We are not here, a profession: we are not from here. Port-Bou. I walk down a flight of stairs; claustrophobic, alone, in the dark, but full of hope, for: glaring light at the end of the corridor promises the end of the night. Then: the sea. In the night surrounding us, which is day, a portal uncloses, but, heed!, not for long. From the unknown widths, beyond the wormhole, sounds come to our sightless ear; it is Jenana, they sing us songs, like the sun over Port-Bou sends us light, us, who escape, alone, stumbling, Step by Step down those stairs, from the ground of actualities. Truly, Jenana are not from here, their essence exists only beyond the portal; a place where the feedback of their guitars becomes a delirious promise of bliss, for which the are called liars. But Jenana know: only they who lie, love. We are not here.
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