long ago I think the first day it was a surprise, how I can understand with my thoughts, I can analyze situations to try to pass through the midst of uncertainty, while it was in the distance parents an opportunity to believe in his destiny, something simple, morning, afternoon, evening, morning, afternoon, evening, morning, afternoon aprpès the evening for a week and I start as if it was new, that's what's really amazing, the human is able to move by erasing his tracks except of course those who remain, the memories of yesterday when the sun is yellow and the earth is brown, days bathed inconsistency and yet it has nothing to do with before because then we can always try to catch up but how when one is unable to understand in which direction we are going, it takes time see what is seen as the habit of believing what we see, ie one puts everything but the truth, pieces of experience, the risky choice, passion for chicken tarragon and around noon the appetite returns, it comes and it goes, every day, no interruptions, a stream coming down from the mountain and arrived in the valley without having had time to change because what is known is always accompanied by a moment of satisfaction, as being what is possible, how to see the opening that is not larger than a good in a swimsuit, what chance to see it a stranger who takes the train, accompanied baggage and finally a love story for the chocolate dessert in the room when I start to sing, for this or that, it depends on the time when I'm glad I think only of myself, and when I am in a state approaching the precipice to calculate the distance, but before continuing I would like to pause