Near the immense door
the little one from the South
waited for her painting
as if it were
a window on the universe
invisible to the others.
Only the artist was delaying
the mistral bothered him
and he was clinging onto his canvas
in order not to sink inside the oblivion
of an injured humanity
from the barbarity of society.
So when he finished his work
right before dying
he received the smile of the little one
with ultimate thanks.