September 11 2011
He is sitting on the edge of the bed. He stands and goes to the living room. Naked. He takes a pen, and a white page. He looks through the window. He looks at the night outside. He comes back to the bedroom. He is lying on the bed. He finds a shelter in the bed. He wants to start writing. He does not know where to start. He puts the white page on the pillow, he keeps the pen in his hand. He looks at the lights outside. He takes the white page. He decides to write. He tries and remember. His French lessons. He looks at the night again. He starts writing. The naked truth :
" Bonjour, ca va ? Tout est bien, ici. Maintenant il est minuit, et il pleur, mais pas beaucoup de vent. "
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