Fading. I feel like I'm fading. Paris. So much
to do. I don't want to do. And I miss you. A little.
Too much. Too. I just want to be. With you. Or with
the children. Right. This second. I don't want
to be. On my own. Though I know. I must learn. To
be. Comfortably. Again. As I have been. Trying. Since
I was five. I almost lost. Everything. I recently
built. Recently. And I was too hasty. To prepare
myself for the worst and for the best. I had
gone through all the scenarios. In my head. On
my long walk. And I had come. To accept them.
But little by little. And a little suddenly.
Everything came back. To me. For me. As something
real. Or something to believe in. Don't know for
how long. But that's not unusual. And in the
process. Everything. And everyone. I recently believed.
And believed in. Had to be. Challenged. Forgive
me. For being so vague. And hazy. I've been having
difficulty. Distinguishing reality. From all its
opposites. My nightmares have gained. An immoderate
amount. Of ammunition. My dreams have been. Fuelled.
unsustainably. There is a strong pull. Toward
the old. And the unknown. And it makes me feel.
So unfamiliar. With where I am. A little bit lost.
Wherever I am. A little. I feel like I'm fading,
Paris. Gasping. For air. Gasping. For certainty.
For my brave. scared. little. heart. Part of me
thinks. I should have been relieved. By the so
-called cancelled losses. The other part finds
it tedious. Having to deal with. What I already.
Albeit hastily. Let go. in my head. Again. If only.
Emotions. Could be undone. It's like... you were
told that someone couldn't pick you up. At your
transit. And your clever little brain immediately
took initiative and booked an expensive ticket.
For the last train of the day. And now. That
was done. You're told. They'll pick you up. Because
their guest has left. Finally. Or some other
silly reason. Should be good, right? Except the
train ticket was expensive. Non-refundable. And
non-exchangeable. And there is a possibility.
The pickup you're hoping for. Might arrive. After
the plan-B train. Has left. Your transit. It's
like that. But it's not that. Is this the price?
You pay. For not choosing. To walk. In a previous
scenario. Where the weather was rough. The road
was dark. But the distance was short. Potentially
short. And you said yes. To a fast drive. That
took you. to this transit. In the first place.
I guess you just have to wait. A little longer.
Now. Wait for everything. Wait for everyone else.
To be ready. Or to leave. And there will always
be the next. Day. I guess. For anyone. Who can
survive. The night. The wind out here is fading
me. I feel. A little. Uncomfortable. Paris. I hope.
You don't. Feel. The same. Though I wish. You could
sense it. A little. A little better. A little
closer. To the source. Of the ache. Where it
could be. Just you. Imagined you. And a little
bit. Of me. The salvageable bit. Of her. Je vais
bien. I'm going fine. The five year old. At the
door. Learned. That everyone came back. in the
end. In the end. A little later. Later. Than expected.
"Shouldn't have cried. Too much." "Shouldn't have
got exhausted." The bed was made. On the cold cement.
You made it. Forgive me. For being. Incoherent.
For my broken-up. Sentences. For my unbearable
consistency. For my insufferable conviction.
For the pain. I'm about to cause. All of it. Better still. Simply. Understand.
A little. See me. A little. Here. And there. Every
now. And then. With your imagined eyes. That never
overlook. My mistakes. And faults. That never overlook.
Your mistakes. And faults. Yet. Never. Change. Everyone.
Came back. In the end. To catch. The shadow. Of someone.
Who used. To love. Them. Who was. Desperate. To be. Picked. Up.
Don't. Pick me. Up. You are fading. Because. I am. In. The end. londres, 29th June 2025, je t'embrasse!