September 7, 2005.
... I write a letter to the woman I love.
I was there that day.
Not even a passenger.
Not even a man.
I will never forget that phrase, "Is it worth the 1102?". I'd love
she tells me.
Was not: "Is it worth the room 1102?".
I think it was rather the first.
I had not seen this face for so long.
Before that day, I had glimpsed in my amniotic fluid.
Before that, I talked to him every day. For thousands of years.
Dieu, jaloux, nous fit naitre.
Il créa d'abord le centimètre, puis la minute, ensuite il decréta un océan.
Pourtant, je la savais.
Inédite parce que familière.
Lorsque mes lèvres se sont posés sur les siennes, mon cerveau n'existait plus, j'avais repris vie.
Comme avant.
Son souffle dans ma bouche.
J'étais au pas d'un gouffre.
Jamais chute ne fut plus douce.
Nous nous étions retrouvé.
Malgré nos corps.
Nos corps s'épousent.
C'est à cause de nos âmes,
elles veulent se retrouver,
alors his skin against mine, as they speak
two sisters that were separated at the hour of sleep.
Their murmurings are butterflies pleasures, which flap their wings at every stroke.
I could never forget.
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