Reflections that don’t come from the heart of Africa but from a rather forgotten part of America, in a night that prepares herself to socialize. There is always a precious moment, one where what will happen in the night rests on the clouds of uncertainty. Most of my days are mass, count as volume far more than for their quality. But still a reason to remember becomes the theme of many days and nights that I no longer spend confined in the safety of a voluntary exilie. Strive, dare and attempt, they all make sense in the face of success, but in the face of its opposite they appear in all their childishness. It’s only in the weight of solitude that it’s possible to deal with them. Tonight I postpone, tonight I go out. I’m taking a break.

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