I like to get up at night and watch it at leisure. It soothes my burning spirit.
I light a cigarette having taken care to roll it just to the right size, not too thick not too light, I scratch my lighter and I hear the crackling of tobacco creaking under the orange flame, scattered volutes melt in the night, my friend.
I then immersed myself in his deep and impenetrable gaze and tried to extract from him the answers that I would never get.
The serenity of the night soothes me and refocuses me on the essential: the breath of life.
I loved to call her and chat with her for hours, but Chouch is no longer there to talk, I miss her so much but I learn day after day, second after second to live with her memory and I can tell you that she shines with a thousand lights, this unforgettable memory!
She was splendid, a radiant physique, a beautiful soul; my words are only there to revive her a little.
Neither life, let alone depression, broke me and the night resurrects me. The music feeds me; the writing revives me, the dance allows me to forget myself, forget a few moments that it is no longer there and that this other one does not speak to me, forget a time that my brain is in constant boiling point, and forget to think.
On my bike, in my pyjamas, in my bed, in the street, with my children or the shopping bag sawing my hand, I dance to forget the vicissitudes of life. Dance tells me to myself, to disarticulate this body which is mine, reminds me that I am lucky to be still alive and that for this simple reason, I owe it to myself to honour it.
O life I cherish you!