I might one day throw everything I have, I doubt it, I do notlike to vomit, then I lie down on the floor and I watch the chandelier above my head wondering when it will falling and crashing to the ground, will I be there at that time, tragically me lying on the ground receiving the gloss on the head end of me because a chandelier, others it is due to a car, others because of an incurable disease, others because of nothing, life passes, it reassures me, I do not like surprises, I was born one day in January, long time ago, now I live quietly in the suburbs of Paris, I love french fries and red meat and red wine and red trousers and a red light to cross the street, the cars are forced to stop, otherwise it is crushing, better a broken leg, at worst a brain crumbs, and then it's screwed to a simple life of brain surgery, medications to stabilize life for an energy less fatigue, why so much hate, I was happy and I suddenly tumbles mas peace, I must beat me, I must be still better otherwise I sink into depression, it 'is hard to live when you are more carefree, I see the years behind me, I do not see the years ahead, I'm a reason for me, very personal, something in me that does not bother anyone, polished by years hidden in a corner of my brain failed, but I see the blue sky and the sun shining, what a beautiful day