I will remember the gray and muted day when my life talking ended.
I will remember the gunmetal-gray BMW that was a good car with that special click.
I am a piano that crashes down seven floors during “A Day in the Life”.
I am the vegetable that everyone calls me because they don’t know my case, locked-in syndrome.
I remember “A Day in the Life” which brings me back to room one nineteen.
I used to be talking; now silence is my word.
I am an Oak tree that will crush the doctor’s hand.
I am the sufferings that are brought among my daughter, Celeste and my son, Theophile who are noisy and energetic.
I want to be the ocean that is neutral and every wheelchair is a chariot when turned by a fairy.
I will be at the Cinecitta eating my dozen snails watching my favorite films.
I want to be the circle that is always the same on the outside, but on the inside, anything can happen.
I want to be the butterfly that takes flight.