the red wine has been spilled, a hurrican came and left me, who’s been on the wake, setting the alarm on fire, the earliest hour, get up and follow me, iron and spears have taken me,
away.
i’ve grasped another morning, silent burns threaten to split your decisions but i’m with you now, fear nothing i see your golden hand shaking, we’re rising, your medals failed to explain what you’ve achieved, there’s only one sound
and pinned to my screen, a lock of your hair, waiting.
the longest years have fallen on me, i feel a deep breath on my chest, it isn’t you, it’s the music of tides, i’ve been hearing it ever since you’ve made your mind and stayed,
away
let me change the orbit, our concussions lost for our attention, i’m drawing these places closer with every heartbeat, and through the tones i gather and staple, i look for a second of shrill desire, drain your toy towns i’ll keep your senses clean,
and pinned in the air, a lock of your hair, waiting…
soundtrack : cyann & ben – i can’t pretend anymore
cette nuit j’ai r?v? que j’?tais jolie.
c’?tait agr?able.
apr?s je me suis r?veill?e, j’ai une cr?ve m?taphysique, la t?te dans un ?tau, les yeux en couilles d’hirondelle et le nez qui coule, c’est encore pire que samedi et si je retrouve le mec qui m’a balanc? la moiti? d’une bouteille de flotte dessus depuis la sc?ne hier soir, sous pretexte que ouais, t’es chaud le public ? ?a va chier. ben nan, je suis pas chaude l?, je suis tremp?e, je me les g?le, il fait moins quatorze dehors, et si la flotte a endommag? mon appareil, je te fais bouffer ton micro.
demain, je serai facile ? vivre. ou vous en r?verez. au choix.
soundtrack : errr…du classique. c’est bien aussi le classique. on va dire vivaldi – concertos pour mandoline.
j’y pense. un peu. parfois. ?a d?pend. la plupart du temps je n’y pense plus.
si mes souvenirs ?taient plus frais, j’y penserais sans doute un peu plus. mais l?, non. ou alors c’est tr?s vague, tr?s diffus. et puis ?a s’?loigne, sans le moindre effort. sans le vouloir, presque sans le faire expr?s. sans m?me parfois que je m’en rende compte.
et c’est quand je r?alise ou qu’un evenement ou une phrase me fait r?aliser que je n’y pense plus que ?a revient, un peu. mais pas tr?s longtemps. j’ai cess? d’y accorder de l’importance. c’est un peu comme des impossibilit?s qui s’encha?nent, un peu comme des perles qu’on enfile pour faire un collier.
quand j’y pense, ?a ne me fait plus grand chose, si mes souvenirs ?taient plus frais, il y aurait sans doute quelques regrets ?pars pour se faufiler dans des f?lures, pas des regrets pr?cis, juste des formes de regrets, ou une forme de regret, rien de tangible, des morceaux d’impressions tout au plus. si je pouvais me rappeler de plein de petites choses, je n’aimerais pas trop je crois, ?a serait fatiguant ? force, je ne voudrais pas qu’un rien me fasse sursauter, je ne voudrais pas m’enfermer dans ma t?te, pas plus qu’? pr?sent du moins.
quand j’y pense et si j’y r?fl?chis un peu, je sais bien ? quelles conclusions j’arrive ? chaque fois, les conclusions n?cessaires, je les contemple en me disant, so what ? so what si j’ai peur ? ?a ne change rien au cours des choses, c’est bien de le savoir, c’est d?j? bien de le reconna?tre, c’est d?j? bien d’?tre honn?te, mais ?a ne change rien. je ne sais m?me pas si j’aurais tant envie que ?a de changer ?a. oui, un peu, parfois, j’ai cette envie l?. et puis finalement, non, je ne sais pas. pour quoi faire ? c’est toujours mieux quand on y croit ?
j’y pense un peu. parfois. et ?a me fait sourire. je n’en suis pas ? une improbabilit? pr?s. je me revois ? 17 ans et m’excuse un peu ? l’ado mal dans sa peau que j’?tais, je m’imagine dans 15 ou 20 ans, et ?a me fait rire toute seule.
ce n’est pas de la facilit?, la facilit? ce serait l’inverse, c’est juste un constat, je crois qu’en fait, je m’en fous un peu. des fois je m’en fous moins. et j’y repense.
et puis ?a sombre dans l’oubli.
un peu comme tout.
soundtrack : pinback – prog
six for the fear…
i’ve lost my carelessness when i’ve realized how much i was craving to live and that i didn’t have the time to wait to be taken away just to never wake up and keep up walking through a dream where i can’t grasp anything, it’s been awhile that i’ve started to think about the little things we try to create wishing we could relate to something we’d call our own, i don’t believe truths that drop down in your palms, or answers that come easily found, but i have lost my thoughts at the point where it all began, i sort of hope that someday i will sit down in a desert far from here and discover that i’ve still got the time.
i’ve lost my thoughtlessness the day i’ve found out that never is a slow poison of the mind and that i’ve used it more than i can count, i’ve got my life to remember how my innocence has been shattered and how no matter the way i consider it, i’m responsible for most part of the crash, i’ve lost my thoughtlessness the day i’ve decided which part of me wouldn’t recover and which side of myself i would keep secret.
…and there are four for every morning being just another monday morning…
i’ve lost my lightness the day i’ve found obvious that photography was the most serious thing to me, i’ve put myself away and told everyone i needed to concentrate, i’ve set my goal to an ideal but partly abandonned faith and illusions at the first wall i’ve encountered, i hit the ground ten times a day and i get up i don’t know how, i’ve lost my lightness the day i’ve cried that there were things i wouldn’t bear, i’ve lost my lightness the day i’ve said that i wanted to travel light, and so i’ve put down carapaces and i’ve set fire to my burdens, but i didn’t know how much losses weigh, i’ve sacrificed colors in my eyes for a sky heavy with smoke.
…and then there are two for the thoughts running in circles…
i’ve lost my patience when i turned twenty two and twenty three and twenty four and didn’t want to spare any more minutes and hours, i’ve stretched out my borders and went back in and forgot to take my breath, catching headaches instead, i’ve placed myself at the center of a maze and then i complained that directions were missing, while it was me i missed the most, so i told that myself was gone and filled all the reports, maybe no one has found it yet, maybe no one could catch it yet, maybe no one can bring it back.
i’ve lost my eloquence the day i discovered what passion means to me, i thought i would better walk by mute than compel myself to tell how i see, i’ve lost my evidences when i’ve looked deep inside of me, when i’ve found out there are feelings that i wish wouldn’t be here, and when they surface i learn to accept them, i hate them, and i hate hate and i hate me.
…and there’s one for resent.
i’ve found where my balance is the day i’ve lost a part of me, i’ve left it in the way to attest the changes and when i look back i see where i am and where i’ve been, tomorrow i’ll be doing an interview, a photo shooting and a photo report and i look at who i was some years ago, my regrets are at rest and i can’t help but grin.
