{"id":112,"date":"2004-01-30T01:55:14","date_gmt":"2004-01-30T00:55:14","guid":{"rendered":"\/?p=112"},"modified":"2004-01-30T01:55:14","modified_gmt":"2004-01-30T00:55:14","slug":"you-can-run-but-you-cant-hide","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/julietterobert.com\/blog\/2004\/01\/30\/you-can-run-but-you-cant-hide\/","title":{"rendered":"you can run but you can&rsquo;t hide"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>(&#8230;)<br \/>\nthere&rsquo;s a piano inside my head that won&rsquo;t stop its solitary breath, and my work isn&rsquo;t finished yet, and i feel that it&rsquo;s still not time for bed. there&rsquo;s a broken voice inside my head that won&rsquo;t stop its solitary moan, and now the guitar stops but the song isn&rsquo;t over. it&rsquo;s never over.  there&rsquo;s never any good time for bed. i can&rsquo;t stop shivering when i think about the broken voice, the unfinished song. god&rsquo;s note, G. i smile. do you want a slow one or a fast one ?<br \/>\n(&#8230;)<br \/>\na few meters in front of me, the street was as empty as if the whole city had died in a second. but where are the bodies ? i said i could run wild in the middle of the avenue, if i wanted to. he laughed and said maybe we should. maybe we should.<br \/>\n(&#8230;)<br \/>\nam i disturbing ?<br \/>\nwell, kinda, i&rsquo;m working.<br \/>\ni have a twenty minute walk to go home, she said, would you keep me company ?<br \/>\ni said yeah, of course i would.<br \/>\nso i walked with her, in my mind, while she told me about her day, and she described me the restaurants and menus, people playing cards in a bar, the shop where she buys her cigarettes, what she&rsquo;d offered to her friend, it&rsquo;s -4?C outside. i should buy myself a coat for montreal, i said. i didn&rsquo;t mention my hesitations about the trip. where will i be in november ? where will i be this summer ? juggling with trains and destinations, hopefully.<br \/>\nbut i said nothing of it. just that i needed a valid passport for whatever plan in the making, of which i know nothing.<br \/>\nnah, don&rsquo;t buy yourself a coat, take what you have and we&rsquo;ll manage.<br \/>\nand i need to be sure that we&rsquo;ll have enough money for toronto, too, you know how it goes.<br \/>\ndon&rsquo;t worry.<br \/>\nbut i do worry. who knows where i&rsquo;ll go once i&rsquo;m free ?<br \/>\n(&#8230;)<br \/>\nand i can already guess their words tomorrow, their appreciative looks, i can already see their smiles, hear their funny jokes. and all the words that i need and don&rsquo;t want at the same time. no, it&rsquo;s not my fault, it&rsquo;s not me, i didn&rsquo;t do anything, i swear. they won&rsquo;t believe me, so i&rsquo;ll just smile, and put their words in a box for the time when i&rsquo;ll be doubting.<br \/>\nand now, i almost don&rsquo;t want to show them the pictures. i can&rsquo;t help it. because i can already guess their words, and it reminds me when p. said i adore you, and i only wanted to run away. we were in bed, half asleep when the words fell from lips too close to mine. it&rsquo;s just like j. holding me and kissing me on both cheeks once again, saying you&rsquo;re too adorable.<br \/>\nand all the times, i just want to run away, just run away.<br \/>\nand one day, i might just do it, i know i might and you know i might&#8230;<br \/>\n(&#8230;)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>(&#8230;) there&rsquo;s a piano inside my head that won&rsquo;t stop its solitary breath, and my work isn&rsquo;t finished yet, and i feel that it&rsquo;s still not time for bed. there&rsquo;s a broken voice inside my head that won&rsquo;t stop its solitary moan, and now the guitar stops but the song isn&rsquo;t over. it&rsquo;s never over. 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