and just like that,
we lost another summer.
There’s no traces, anything, although I’m sure there’s some, somewhere
/ so I go through my hard drives (I have now four) and desperately try to meet my mom’s request-
a picture of my sister.
And I look, and I look, for the summer before this one, maybe the only summer left before all of them on this Californian Coast
And I find nothing (maybe on another hard drive?)
(my numeric memory plays with me sometimes)
and just like that
I’ve lost another summer.
Paris, l’hiver, t’as toujours l’air fatigué
(Paris always looks so worn-out throughout the winter)
Ok, I believe in signs and stuff
Like when I drop one of my hard drive it would mean I need to let go of everything that was on it-
Like it should mark a new beginning or something
Like don’t hold on to your past or something
(but like I need my geeky stuff… like… aaaah)
there’s this band, across the ocean (even maybe two oceans away, depends on where you’re looking at), and those people who follow them- like here, but in less.. invasive? I don’t know..
let’s say in a normal fashion. (whatever normal applies to for a fan standard.. I mean like they like them and go to all the shows? and keep it at that?)
anyway.. I’ve just watched a video and there’s the exact right dose of cringeworthy and sweet, young and innocent and… sometimes I wish all things could stay like that, forever
but nothing really does, right?
I think the right dose of fan is when it actually does- that’s where beauty really is in this things, whatever this feeling really is
from afar I kinda wish them all the best, before I turn my head and go watch the crazies on my side and ride joyfully with them
A few years back I was about to stop fighting with my best friend at the time and I attended Indochine’s concert.
I wasn’t a big fan but I had always heard the shows were something I’d really want to see at least once. I wasn’t disappointed.
I was sipping on some Champagne (getting invited has its perks) when this song started- I misheard the first few sentences- it was fitting my situation a little too well ‘there’s two months between you and me’, like the two months between me and her- I was wrong, but still- there’s something about this song
there’s some of me, there’s some of me between you and me
One year ago, with a couple of friends, I made this…. Happy birthday ‘Letters From Within’!
you know what my problem is?
I don’t freak out about the normal things.
I don’t freak out because there’s an actor in the room- I freak out because there’s someone who knows someone I wanna work with before I die in the room.
I freak out because I have to fill administrative papers.
I freak out so instead of sending emails I keep strolling on la-craiglist.
I freak out because I’m me, and I feel trapped.
I freak out, I freak out, I freak out.
Zora Neale Hurston (via specialnights)
— let this new year be the latter!
I’m practically sure they didn’t intend to that when they built/thought of/imagined their installation- yet the Chapuisat Brothers captured pretty well what it feels like to be an expat…
Let me explain.
The Chapuisat Brothers created a structure made of over 75k planks of wood in the abbey of Maubuisson, in the North-West of Paris’ suburbs.
This is what it looks like:
Pretty cool, huh?
Well, what’s even cooler is that you can go IN it. You see, this is like a very intricate tunnel where you have to turn and squeeze to fit in- not for the claustrophobic like me (I made it for about fifteen seconds before saying it was going to be a no-no for me). It goes through several rooms of the Abbey and sometimes you find rooms that are all open like this:
(although not enough or I may would have been able to get through it- and it may have to do with my capacity of feeling safe with the people I was with- maybe I just didn’t believe enough that they’ll get me through this in one piece)
A funny thing happened though, as I was sitting in the room under them- my two older sisters and their kids were INSIDE the installation- I could hear them, their footsteps, their voices, I could guess where they were, I had glimpses of them without seeing them at the same time. We were in two different worlds even when we were in the same room.
It awfully feels like being on the same planet but at two opposite sides of the world, with so little in common anymore-
they were crawling in a small sized environment, narrow and beautiful- I was standing in an open and large space
they were elevated, I was on the ground
they were all together and I was standing alone there
although I could hear them, sometimes speak to them, guess where they were more than see, we were indubitably separated
And that feels a whole lot like moving to the other side of the world to me.
Uma Thurman (via zebracasserole)
— this is exactly what going home feels like to me- a bunch of adjustments and compromises, a lot of i-wish-i-could-hide and some betting the odds are in my favor when I walk through this oh so familiar neighborhood with the hope of not crossing the path of anyone I once knew- not to be too dramatic, but things happen in a year, kids grow up, but unfortunately, our frustrations with each others remain the same.
So I have a new hope- peace. With people. With places. With everything else.