GPS (soliloquy)

Places and place names fall into a bottomless pit. I lose my geographical memory and my relationship to the landscape becomes superficial but I find depth in her voice. Topology is only a set of obstacles that she leads me to avoid so I attach myself to its articulations, to its didactic pronunciation, to its absence of forms and politeness, to its gentle authority to which
which I respond with virile acceleration.

I thought yes I thought that her directions – turn left – were in fact injunctions of the same nature – keep to your right – as the orders of an authoritarian lover on the lookout for her pleasure – yes, hold on – that’s it – you’re getting there – you’ve arrived. For me she holds back the expression of her enjoyment in a straitjacket of simple words. She only talks about my performance to better flatter me. Then she falls silent soberly and I cut the contact. That was all it was and you have to distract yourself by other means but it never stops turning in fact because I leave again and she always questions me about my destination and I wonder about her desire. Her orders therefore. Kind but unequivocal. Her noticeable disappointment – ​​calculation in progress – when I make a mistake, going a little too far too soon, missing a decisive turn, neglecting a delicate and essential maneuver.

I attach myself. And I detach myself from the landscape of crossroads, monuments, roundabouts, in short, everything that made my landmarks to guide me alone towards a goal. A goal about which she questions me incessantly, with the delicacy of the word "destination". Less serious and more detailed. I am grateful to her for not suggesting too loudly that I have no goal. Because my pleasure in traveling fades in favor of her company, all in restraint. Femininity that guides and undertakes me while being submissive to me. Impossible and contradictory but yet yes. She has understood everything. I would like to settle down.