Where to go?

I sleep at night not know­ing what to do with my body. I, the hyper­ac­tive one, look more like a cucum­ber that absorbs all the time it needs before end­ing up in a sal­ad. To say that my life is bor­ing would be a lie, to say that it is abhor­rent would be pre­sump­tu­ous. My life is what it is in its ordi­nary and in its great smallness.

I am still try­ing to shake this lethar­gy even if the list of things I should do is get­ting longer. The fin­ish of my apart­ment became a nice joke that peo­ple keep telling me from time to time, I was good at pho­tog­ra­phy and I dropped out, I was good at romance and I have no plans in that direc­tion, I was good at singing and I quit the choir.

My sis­ter Dominique told me that I had to accept that things had to end in order to start new ones. I agree, but I don’t like to leave it out either. I like to go all the way with my adventures.

It may not yet be time to go back on a trip, I may have to draw the frame­work of a gar­den, I may have to cul­ti­vate the land a lit­tle, sow it and see what hap­pens. There’s no point in run­ning, you have to start on time. Who­ev­er risks noth­ing has noth­ing. Help your­self and the sky will help you. Have I become that too old that makes me want to length­en proverbs ?

Nen­ni. I chirp because I left in the shad­ows this part of the orig­i­nal youth that nour­ished me. I agreed to reduce my col­ors to bet­ter weath­er the storm. It will have to come back to haunt me. My ghosts, dreams, and desires are my survival.

Where to go ?

Prob­a­bly nowhere, because where I look for myself is where I live, I am. No-fuss.