WEBVTT

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Fading. I feel like I'm fading. Paris. So much

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to do. I don't want to do. And I miss you. A little.

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Too much. Too. I just want to be. With you. Or with

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the children. Right. This second. I don't want

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to be. On my own. Though I know. I must learn. To

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be. Comfortably. Again. As I have been. Trying. Since

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I was five. I almost lost. Everything. I recently

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built. Recently. And I was too hasty. To prepare

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myself for the worst and for the best. I had

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gone through all the scenarios. In my head. On

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my long walk. And I had come. To accept them.

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But little by little. And a little suddenly.

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Everything came back. To me. For me. As something

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real. Or something to believe in. Don't know for

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how long. But that's not unusual. And in the

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process. Everything. And everyone. I recently believed.

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And believed in. Had to be. Challenged. Forgive

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me. For being so vague. And hazy. I've been having

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difficulty. Distinguishing reality. From all its

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opposites. My nightmares have gained. An immoderate

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amount. Of ammunition. My dreams have been. Fuelled.

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unsustainably. There is a strong pull. Toward

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the old. And the unknown. And it makes me feel.

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So unfamiliar. With where I am. A little bit lost.

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Wherever I am. A little. I feel like I'm fading,

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Paris. Gasping. For air. Gasping. For certainty.

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For my brave. scared. little. heart. Part of me

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thinks. I should have been relieved. By the so

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-called cancelled losses. The other part finds

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it tedious. Having to deal with. What I already.

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Albeit hastily. Let go. in my head. Again. If only.

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Emotions. Could be undone. It's like... you were

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told that someone couldn't pick you up. At your

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transit. And your clever little brain immediately

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took initiative and booked an expensive ticket.

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For the last train of the day. And now. That

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was done. You're told. They'll pick you up. Because

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their guest has left. Finally. Or some other

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silly reason. Should be good, right? Except the

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train ticket was expensive. Non-refundable. And

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non-exchangeable. And there is a possibility.

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The pickup you're hoping for. Might arrive. After

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the plan-B train. Has left. Your transit. It's

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like that. But it's not that. Is this the price?

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You pay. For not choosing. To walk. In a previous

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scenario. Where the weather was rough. The road

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was dark. But the distance was short. Potentially

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short. And you said yes. To a fast drive. That

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took you. to this transit. In the first place.

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I guess you just have to wait. A little longer.

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Now. Wait for everything. Wait for everyone else.

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To be ready. Or to leave. And there will always

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be the next. Day. I guess. For anyone. Who can

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survive. The night. The wind out here is fading

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me. I feel. A little. Uncomfortable. Paris. I hope.

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You don't. Feel. The same. Though I wish. You could

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sense it. A little. A little better. A little

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closer. To the source. Of the ache. Where it

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could be. Just you. Imagined you. And a little

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bit. Of me. The salvageable bit. Of her. Je vais

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bien. I'm going fine. The five year old. At the

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door. Learned. That everyone came back. in the

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end. In the end. A little later. Later. Than expected.

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"Shouldn't have cried. Too much." "Shouldn't have

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got exhausted." The bed was made. On the cold cement.

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You made it. Forgive me. For being. Incoherent.

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For my broken-up. Sentences. For my unbearable

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consistency. For my insufferable conviction.

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For the pain. I'm about to cause. All of it. Better still. Simply. Understand.

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A little. See me. A little. Here. And there. Every

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now. And then. With your imagined eyes. That never

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overlook. My mistakes. And faults. That never overlook.

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Your mistakes. And faults. Yet. Never. Change. Everyone.

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Came back. In the end. To catch. The shadow. Of someone.

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Who used. To love. Them. Who was. Desperate. To be. Picked. Up.

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Don't. Pick me. Up. You are fading. Because. I am. In. The end. londres, 29th June 2025, je t'embrasse!
