Breviary

It took me several decades to be fully convinced of this: poetry dictates my relationship with time, which is the very act of living.

Far more than a fleeting state of beatitude, it is an aegis—the granddaughter of a brash yet dauntless indifference standing firm against the disappointments lurking in the folds of the future. Coupled with an intensive use of "no," it has served as my compass amidst the howling of adverse winds.

This personal breviary, this language infused in the unconsciousness of childhood, is a guano that surreptitiously lines the depths of our identity, possessing the non-negligible quality of severing all alternatives. Thus, I cling to my language, gripping it with all my strength, lest it melt from within and vanish forever. Words are images; their assembly, emotions. The thought of losing them is unbearable to me, far more so than the loss of speech itself. Living in abstraction, this rampart is impregnable, for beyond softening what it clothes, it constitutes the only true backbone: beauty.

It is by following this path, often semi-blind, that I have built all my projects. Regardless of their form or tools, they weave a single intimate tapestry, indivisible and complementary. I embrace this universe, now approaching its forties, missteps and wrong turns included; life and creation are one, and the refusal of immobility entails a share of risk and error that I have never feared to assume.

The impermanence of all things invites humility; neither the fanfares of the finish line nor the confetti of ephemeral victories have ever mattered to me. What animates me is the journey itself; that sacred place where one has nothing to prove to anyone, except to oneself.

Bruno Green - Lennoxville - juin 2026