I'm confused. I shouldn't. My look is direct, my speech is clear, my thoughts are not. They shouldn't. I should talk about this afternoon, sun under the 'tour Eiffel', wrote a poem for a girl, she loved it. What more can I ask from life? I don't know, but I'll have to figure it out. Right now I'm... confused. Whatever, I'll sort it out myself. Rob D, Clubbed to death. Go and listen to it, 'cause that's what I'm listening to just now, I'm gonna switch on the matrix2 soundtrack, that will change my mind. Not for the better I fear. I'm stuck in front of the screen, reloaded in my ears, my thoughts are running around in a large circle, getting smaller and smaller, narrowing to a little node of dark smoke, madly shimmering and glittering the doubts and regrets. Hell. Why?
Something is bothering me, in a way, (no link with the previous part, I've switched brains): Some days ago, I was writing knowing that nobody but frenchy could read what I was writing, that was a 'silent start'. Now this blog has gone public, everybody, that's to say anybody, can read it. I know frenchy and he knows me, I know he will think twice or more when reading me, he won't take anything granted, and will ask me if any doubt. But for every one else, what does the previous part (confused stuff, just up here) does mean to you? You can't know anything about it, three people have a clue, one each, maybe two of you can build something out of it, and I'll deny. Because the truth is something else, the truth lies elsewhere. Deep in my mind. Nobody can reach it but her. And I don't know her yet.
[...Listening to the music...]
Never underestimate the power of music. My thoughts are getting clearer. I hope you'll make the most of it.

Chica, I really was pleased to write that for you, a smile is the best gift an author can have, ever.