Pascale Petit: Fauverie - Emmanuel
In the last days, after all he said and didn't say, his iron tongue resting in the open bell of his mouth, the belfry of his face asleep, I climbed the spiral steps of the tower - up the steep steps of the bell cage, to the bourdon the great bumblebee, Emmanuel. I stared at that bronze weight, the voice of Paris, as if it was my father's voice and I had climbed up his spine, all thirteen tons of