is a book that one leaf vacuum here. We hear the wind blowing almost on the dunes a few bulging. And there is no trace of life, no footprints, only mine: they fade gradually.
I started this diary, I still do not know why. Want to expose my words. Want to remove their dark cave my few words. For whom, for what? It started in Montreal during the winter strangles.
No utility EXCEPT Perhaps for myself. The night life of NYC, I'm not best placed to talk about it. I'm not a geek over. The scientist in me, half stunned would teach, or sometimes write THE book that explains everything about everything. But not here, not on the airwaves of the blog. My creativity is very poor, we will not see me stick me in my office to write the novel / the stance of the year either.
narrate adventures of expatriate ties? Grmpf. I left France, a few moons ago now. My scenery is now so pronounced that even France is a country that is foreign to me. Moreover, it was wrong party; being born on Earth with three different backgrounds, all in Britain.
And here I am, in recent months to wander. My family has been eroded over there. I live here I see that without any anchor who decided to attach myself a little on earth Americans. I think I fail.
I grumble, I storm. I do believe that any other out there waiting for me, he is sweet. I deserve it. I look away. I think. But I decided not to dive. I am weak?
Seen today "My life without me . I also see myself sometimes leave words, bits of tape post-mortem, to those who mattered to me. Maybe there's a bit of that in this blog. Alpha sings twice Sometime Later, I remember now that it's the only piece that really touched me. And then I listen
Françoiz Breut again and again. Amazon (without the right breast) has kindly supplied "20 to 30 000 days" today. Another album from one of two A-Dominique F. Breut who once accompanied me hours and hours.
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