getting old

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No boyfriend, no dog, no cat — 2019/07/13

Who am I, by the way? I jokingly exclaimed while putting the cutlery in my neighbors' dishwasher. And one of them answered me: "No boyfriend, no dog, no cat".

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Our seasons — 2014/09/28

Of course, autumn inspires the poet. It is a sweet season, heralding the bitterness of winter, but, with good weather helping, we are not yet concerned about it. The weather is fine, death is there to diffuse perfumes of appeasement, the air is warm, the light compresses the shadows, skilfully mixing the colors. Everything is in its place, in the order of things. You feel almost eternal.

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Is that aging? — 2014/04/09

I was not really focusing my attention on something. It was still raining at the beginning of the evening, i had this little cold that weighs down the bladder, tickles the nose and bugs the throat. In the office, the air conditioning system did not help, unable to decide between spring, winter, maybe even autumn.

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The old man with the missal — 2013/12/15

He must be 80 years old, his spine broken, weakly leaning against the train seat, his belly serving as a table on which he has secured with one hand a used missal, adorned with some paper clips that group pages.

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The gesture — 2013/01/01

I had the privilege and happiness of talking to my parents for the arrival of 2013. I say this with pomp that may seem excessive. It is only the unrestrained observation of the feelings that inhabit me. I am 53 years old, and I am still in front of them lowliness that only seeks to be loved.

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Happiness destroyed — 2012/03/17

Hot against cold, spring tends to kill softly winter, morning fog acclimates our eyes as soon as they come out of the dark tunnels of the night. Tomorrow, I'm going to a funeral. One of my mother's brothers died after the inevitable fight against cancer.

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Past, future, present — 2012/03/13

The annual visit to the doctor. Analysis of the various components listed, observation of the losses suffered; the machine ages, slowly, inexorably as the saying goes.

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The elusive knowledge — 2012/02/27

I met W. at the grocery store. He's the same age, a few days apart, like my father. W. was a member of the Ensemble vocal Ganymède for a few years. He left last year. I saw him tired and, to be honest, on the decline.

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