Friday 5 January 2007
It's weird how leaving this apartment I've been living in for 3 years is giving me a melancholic feeling. I really had enough of this place, and therefore I had decided this move for a long time. Now that the day have come, each piece of furniture that I'm removing reminds me of the moments attached to it.

This place has been, somehow, the shelter inside my exile. I had never really bared the city and the surroundings. The view from the third floor's balcony wasn't something one could call beautiful. It was grayish, tasteless, uninspiring, thus I've always had a tendency to shut the windows and live confined between those walls, with my paintings and my inner visions. With time this apartment turned into a painter's workshop. When I think about it, I have painted seven canvas there _ almost all of them. Not a lot of people have passed that door, but those who came hav approached closely my artistic cell, and somehow, played a role in it.

At last. This isn't that easy to deconstruct piece by piece this little universe. Somehow, it was the symbol of my resistance to the void and the gray that resided outside; this place has accompanied me all along my interior quest; and here, through those endless moments of loneliness, through the music that was played, and with the ones that were beloved, I've learned so much about myself. I've found how rewarding were the struggles, the pains endured, the doubts, when eventually you become your true and sincere self _ and not what the outer world urges you to become.

I've hated that place. As contradictory as it might sound, the rage I felt towards its emptiness, its cold, has pushed me towards a better me.

Exile, I'm leaving you.
But I thank you too.
I've been lonely but safe. I felt angry but loving too.
I'm leaving you and I am freed.
I'm a bird.
Except that now,
I am able to fly.

Jan. 07
1/1/2007 I wish you love
5/1/2007 Leaving
14/1/2007 Endormie
31/1/2007 Port de la Lune