Back to the wall, my name is Remi, I face the black immensity. I see nothing. on the ground, I sit cross-legged. There, I observe my thoughts dancing in my head. If I could, I sing the melody that keeps going.
No, I’m just me. I see a runoff pours guitar notes of his reach. Sometimes absently, sometimes black vote, in a sense, the way of the music. I can enjoy peace and silence. I love this arc without racism. I’m fine.
I do not feel neither weak nor standard. I beat the sounds of the worlds. I visit this place in the world. I steal a deal. I fly under the influence of world music. I’m here, but elsewhere. I’m listening to the vibrations that cause me. An understanding that moves my body.
I’m not human. I am the puppet of the instrument. Detune the guitar connects me all the parts that make up my being. He has control of my movements. As soon as he begins to play, scratched his strings I dance. I am the pen that made the score. I sing the notes in my slow movements by time. Turn in me the joy of living among you. I live by the spirit of the music.
Sometimes the simple things forgotten. Improvisation of my body as a musician, I Vaulting without thinking. I am this movement to escape this life. I’m not me. I dream that I am far from such a drug, I’m fascinated by the rolling sensation. Suddenly! Nothing comes! She entered without knocking. My mother said, « You have done your homework. »