existence

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Stronger than us — 2019/08/31

Within us are the reflections of an ocean that will always submerge us. Everything is stronger than us. When we are born, the cycle of planets will have impregnated its bucket into our DNA.

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Each of our mornings — 2019/08/11

Time may be, at the end of the day, just a long corridor immobilized in the matter, a train with no head or tail. The matter is slower than our humble steps. We run, dance, frolic, having no echoes but this silence higher than our natures, more immense than our hopes, just as profound as our ignorance.

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Our fire — 2018/11/11

I was particularly sick for a month. First of all a partial angina of the throat which made me lose two kilos so much that I couldn't swallow anything. Then, two weeks later, mysterious spikes of fever.

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And remember again that everyone lives only in the present — 2018/09/30

The leaves do not seem to be ready to fade. However, by the end of September, they should already have a sense of the end. There are some of these unblemished autumns and this one may be one of them. The antlers will turn brown and will be bald by one or two gusts of wind. The next day, it will snow and we will not yet have our boots at our feet.

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The two roads — 2018/06/11

What are we? What do we do? What will we become? It is quite rare for us to ask ourselves these questions. They usually arise during times of crisis, when a hurricane comes to whip up life, when the ocean swells immensely, but also, sometimes, when everything seems calm on the surface, when under miles of oblivion a threatening plasma moves that we readily ignore.

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My singing, my voice — 2017/07/01

Last January, a post on singing, then nothing more on this theme. I make myself frugal in everything, silently questioning myself about the meaning of doing as much this as that. 2017 has its surprises in store for me.

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I dreamt of him — 2017/06/23

I dreamt about him. He stood next to me, I couldn't see his face, but I could observe his hair, guess the strength of his blood through the pulsating vein on his neck.

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Celebrate the chlorophyll — 2017/05/13

I am made more of silence than flashes. I have told so little about winter, not at all about the spring that is coming to an end. My days were no less noisy, enriching, anxious, cloudy and blessed. The ordinary life of a man who feels the fatigue of near-finished duties.

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Engraving — 2016/05/28

I would like to engrave my steps in a benevolent ground that would show future generations that I have been there, that my soul, dressed in its ancestor's body, has bent over the footsteps of others, will have breathed an air that had already made thirty billion songs (I have counted them all), that there were, above these footsteps, dreams that were only wandering.

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Luminous clock — 2016/04/09

The sun casts its light daily on me, on us and on you. My gaze inevitably turns on me, on us, on you. The existence is incredible, the reality so pregnant, beautiful, implacable, heavy, uncompromising.

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Spring, slowly — 2014/05/11

Spring, slowly, achieves its goals. Winter stretched its rainy, cold marshmallow until the trees, daffodils, crocuses, flies, and whatnot managed to claim their playground.

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Radioactive epidemics — 2013/01/18

If a few atoms can destroy an entire city, imagine the power of the drugs that flow through our veins. I am easily surprised, my thinking is radioactive and unstable. The perimeter of a lamp reminds me of the bitter lips of a volcano, the contact of a body announces an epidemic of sensations.

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Oxidizable — 2011/12/11

Since life is a perpetual restart, it is necessarily constant oxidation. What-it-is no longer becomes. Sometimes, this is gradually reduced, slowly jammed, oxidized, and then stopped. But sometimes, the breakage occurs, and it is already no longer, in a great crash of indifference since it is now elsewhere.

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Are we? — 2011/11/13

I dreamt that a well-known publishing house would return my manuscript to me with a letter of vehement nonsense and tell me not to write a single word again. I was new in a convoluted office. My colleagues looked like people I knew.

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Reaching — 2011/10/25

Every morning, when I open my eyes, I reach out my hands. The dawn that is taking shape in me is trying to open my arms. While the already forgotten dreams unravel in the magical purgatory of the unconscious, I have to get down to earth, return to this life.

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