Languedoc
Erat quippe in ipsa civitate Parisius adolescentula quedam nomine Heloysa, neptis canonici cuiusdam qui Fulbertus.
Why do I seek the living among the dead she is not here she is In Paris I was aquiline my face eagle, noble, trimmed in that place of rolled scrolls I left the iron mittens of fine lineage sold my birthright and bought books. The stain of bells rung out in filigree bells and boredom those brands of breeding, pedigree. When she was there— she had a face like war— blessed be war, blessed be the name of war. Gossamer-terror. Such a tenor to her jaw her arms were like rods of gold the grille for treasures, fin’amor. It was the yellow of accidents that underlit her chin and the overheated sunlight seared my misfortune and my fame.
—Gabriel Olearnik
Gabriel Olearnik studied medieval history at University College
London. He is currently an attorney and practices corporate law.
