Just two leafs.

Floating.

A wind from the sea which is furious right now.

A tree has fallen.

He will never wake up.

A lightning.

Everything become gold for two seconds.

The sound.

Roar of the death.

A tree has fallen.

He will maybe wake up.

As the wind...

"If you iron your own clothes, I will maybe accept!"

"If you learned me, I would probably!"

"You never asked me to!"

"You never had time!"

"That is the most stupid excuse I have ever heard!"

"Ah! Listen. The question is simple. Would-you-marry-me?"

"...If you iron your clothes!"

I'm jealous.

Everyone, here, is making long and longer texts.

Why I cannot ?

I'm as good as all of you, am I right ?

(Don't answer, it could irritate me)

I know, I'll write down what I am thinking.

Even thought I hate this idea.

I hate a lot of things in fact.

What was I thinking ? Oh yes, I thinking of I was thinking.

So, a bicycle...with a giraffe... who smoke...and...dammit!

That's why I hate this idea! Because that doesn't have any sense!

So, is it long enough ?

No.

But I don't care. I will be the one with the shortest...Texts! Of course....

Someone told me to tell him my worst nightmare.

But I don't want.

I want forget nightmares.

Even thought I will never.

But why do we always remember nightmares and never good dreams.

Why do I wanna stop sleeping just because of nightmares.

The good. The bad.

Balanced

If you stop something for the bad sides,

You stop it for the good too.

There is no truth.

There is no lie.

Everyone as is own advice.

That is called subjectivity.

There is one truth.

Everything else is a lie.

That is called objectivity.

That is maybe not the truth but everything thinks he is like that.

That is called the Doxa.

So I am a paradox.

Sa démarche.

Je pourrais la reconnaître au milieu d'une foule de personne aussi pressés que les bureaucrates dans le métro de Paris.

Elle est élégante, décontracté, insistante, légère... Équilibrée.

La façon dont elle peut-être sévère et douce m'intrigue.

Elle a un tel pouvoir sur moi, sans même le savoir.

Son indifférence me blesse mais me fait aussi apprécier chaque moment, de contact ne fusse-t-il infime.

Elle me tue.

Elle me fait vivre.