The lizard bites his leg, and finds out he’s wounded. Oh, he says, I won’t do it again. He bites his belly, same result, bites his friend, bites a stone, bites a lamp, bites a cat, bites a man, and again, he’s wounded. Why ? He won’t do it… again ? But when he bites his tail, the tail falls off, and then ! is born again and is his and here again. Is it a miracle, is it possible, without blood ? For me, asks the lizard, who is not made of warm ?
The lizard within, my organic Mary Poppins, my salt of air, my shoes in the trees.