Forgotten Measurements
after François Villon
In the dimly lit room, 47 steps from the door I find a worn-out ruler, its edge frayed A remnant of a life, where 13 millimeters made all the difference, and 27 centimeters meant nothing at all
In this space, where shadows stretch 92 inches long, I search for a reason, a reason to stay But the only sound is the creaking of the floor under my feet, a reminder of 17 uneven boards
I borrowed François Villon's use of concrete, everyday objects and his tendency to weave numbers and measurements into his poetry, often to convey a sense of melancholy and nostalgia. I took this style and applied it to a modern, mundane setting, exploring the emotional weight of forgotten measurements.