Adelheid DuvanelLa maison disparue

Twin sisters gently rub geranium leaves on their faces. Every morning a man waits for the newspaper as if it were a love letter. A little girl runs away from home after writing “I am going to Singapore”. A woman has the fleeting impression of being a fish living in a hollow tree. In Adelheid Duvanel’s short, miniature stories, everything is there, right from the start, dense, compact, collected. It is as if we were in the presence of small photographic snapshots, slices of life whose interpretation is to be sought in the off-screen, the unspoken. To tiny lives, miniature texts, where prose and poetry intermingle in a choreography of poignant intensity.