The alarm clock breaks the nightmare of last night. One of many nightmares. He's here, fadding away, he's here, hurting her, he's here, distant, he's gone. It's always about him. Slowly, she'll stand up, eat some digestive, take a shower. Her body knows this routine she repeats every day. But today she doesn't wonder what her day's gonna be made of. The nightmares are still bluring her mind. This whole story is blury. She's not sure what happened. She doesn't try to remember.
The bus crosses the Bridge, her eyes plunge in the Thames's dark water. Standing on the train platform, she wonders how she got there. It's like she's on autopilot. People walk around her, off the train, in the train and again. Buzzing around her, they don't see her. Buried inside a book, she doesn't see them. She's far away in another story. Anything but hers.
During the day she could almost forget. She works, socialise, laugh, goes to the gym etc. Her life hasn't stop. But her body can't hide it. She looks at her pale reflection in the bathroom mirror. She didn't cry but her eyes are red. She had lunch but her body feels weak, almost sick.
She goes out in the evening, mets her friends for a drink in a busy Australian pub in Shepherd's Bush, or a small Italian coffee in Richmond. Life goes on as before.
But it's not as before, she knows it. She could hear the sound of another piece of her heart hitting the floor.
She can feel the emptyness. She misses him. He wasn't perfect, maybe he wasn't the right one, but he was hers. She loved him for what he was.
She has learnt a long time ago that love is not enough. But every time it's like a little death. The other kind.
She is not scared of being alone. Living alone in London, dying alone somewhere else. She thinks everybody does anyway or only few don't.
She's strong, fer friends don't need to worry.
But sometimes she'd like to be weak, break into thousands of pieces and be carried away by the strong wave of the Atlantic. Disappear to be something else.
27 May 2010
24 May 2010
The Singing Talker
Walking in the street of London, you hear many different accents. Scottish, Welsh, South-African, Indian, Australian, Italian, Polish, French, American, etc...After a few years it becomes quite easy to recognise them and can even become a game (like French do with the number plates on the motorway).
My personnal favourite has always been the Scottish accent. First, it always amaze me that after all these years I still have NO idea what they're saying. Second, they sound to me like a Belgian talking English while eating a potato and that never fails to amuse me (I know I know, my sense of humour is all about subtilities).
The Singing Talker was born in la ville rose de Toulouse, South of France. Or shall I call it, la ville rause as they would say over there. Like Mancunian or Scousers, Southerners French have a particular accent. For Toulousain, the silent "e" or "s" are not silent ( eh non ma petiteeeeeuuu sinon c'est moinsssss joli); words ending with "in" or "ain" gets a free "g" (du bon ving et du bon paing) and "r" are prounonced the Spanish way.
Sunny and pinky, the Singing Talker is like her city. She moved to London over 6 years ago. A bright, hard-working Biology student at the Imperial College, she got her PHD and was soon employed by an independent laboratory.
Like many people, after few years in London, her Southern accent got smoother. You can still hear she's French but being around many Northener, her Toulousain accent fadded. Everytime she goes back home though, it becomes as strong as before.
For a non Francophones, it's quite hard to hear the difference between a French Northener and Southern accent. It is much easier, to recognise an Indian accent (velcome to vaterloo my French friends, ooh mah goosh, dat ees der veree offenseev).
In her lab, the Singing Talker works with Indians. She's never been to India, takes Spanish lessons with her boyfriend. But guess what happened ? Her natural predisposition to get an accent means she caught her colleagues'. Imagine the reaction of people being introduced to a French girl speaking English with an Indian accent ? They often doubt her when she insist she's never been to India. Hard to believe ? Well, not so much in London.
My personnal favourite has always been the Scottish accent. First, it always amaze me that after all these years I still have NO idea what they're saying. Second, they sound to me like a Belgian talking English while eating a potato and that never fails to amuse me (I know I know, my sense of humour is all about subtilities).
The Singing Talker was born in la ville rose de Toulouse, South of France. Or shall I call it, la ville rause as they would say over there. Like Mancunian or Scousers, Southerners French have a particular accent. For Toulousain, the silent "e" or "s" are not silent ( eh non ma petiteeeeeuuu sinon c'est moinsssss joli); words ending with "in" or "ain" gets a free "g" (du bon ving et du bon paing) and "r" are prounonced the Spanish way.
Sunny and pinky, the Singing Talker is like her city. She moved to London over 6 years ago. A bright, hard-working Biology student at the Imperial College, she got her PHD and was soon employed by an independent laboratory.
Like many people, after few years in London, her Southern accent got smoother. You can still hear she's French but being around many Northener, her Toulousain accent fadded. Everytime she goes back home though, it becomes as strong as before.
For a non Francophones, it's quite hard to hear the difference between a French Northener and Southern accent. It is much easier, to recognise an Indian accent (velcome to vaterloo my French friends, ooh mah goosh, dat ees der veree offenseev).
In her lab, the Singing Talker works with Indians. She's never been to India, takes Spanish lessons with her boyfriend. But guess what happened ? Her natural predisposition to get an accent means she caught her colleagues'. Imagine the reaction of people being introduced to a French girl speaking English with an Indian accent ? They often doubt her when she insist she's never been to India. Hard to believe ? Well, not so much in London.
6 May 2010
Hands up and Hands down
"-It's coming up, everybody's talking about it, on TV, on radio ...
-That's not true, nobody's talking about it ! The biggest election are coming up and nobody seems interested about it" Hands up doesn't like being interrupted. Especially by this politician to be, always here to tell people what to do or not to do. Such a twat. It's enough to have to hear about it all day long without having somebody lecturing you on how you should care about it.
-"Why should we talk about it ? There is nothing to say. Always the same liars, the same fake smiles, the false same promess.
-So doing nothing is your solution ? How is that gonna help ? You complain about everything and when you have a chance to be heard you just lie down and hide".
This lazy moron. Hands down can't bear people like him. They ruin democracy. For century people fought for the right to vote and look at this lazy bastard happy to shout that all those fights have been a waste. As short-sighted as a little worm.
-They will know we are unhappy, a massive abstention sends a clear message.
-It doesn't stop political parties from being elected.
-So explain to me, you who knows so much, who should we vote for ? Which party is going to be different ? Come on, they even have the same program !
-Do you want to give the power to somebody from Right or Left ?
-Stalin or Hitler
-Very funny. It's not black or white and actually it doesn't have to be so binary either.
-Why don't you do politics since you like so much ?
-Can't I cook if I'm not a Chef ?
-Are you 5 or something ? You do realise that power fucks up everybody; none of them even remotely cares about what happens to us. Why do you care about them ?
-Because it's my money, my education, my job, my pension they're dealing with, surely I should care and so should you !
-When they will stop being so fake and do their jobs, surely I will do.
-Let's hope it won't be too late then".
-That's not true, nobody's talking about it ! The biggest election are coming up and nobody seems interested about it" Hands up doesn't like being interrupted. Especially by this politician to be, always here to tell people what to do or not to do. Such a twat. It's enough to have to hear about it all day long without having somebody lecturing you on how you should care about it.
-"Why should we talk about it ? There is nothing to say. Always the same liars, the same fake smiles, the false same promess.
-So doing nothing is your solution ? How is that gonna help ? You complain about everything and when you have a chance to be heard you just lie down and hide".
This lazy moron. Hands down can't bear people like him. They ruin democracy. For century people fought for the right to vote and look at this lazy bastard happy to shout that all those fights have been a waste. As short-sighted as a little worm.
-They will know we are unhappy, a massive abstention sends a clear message.
-It doesn't stop political parties from being elected.
-So explain to me, you who knows so much, who should we vote for ? Which party is going to be different ? Come on, they even have the same program !
-Do you want to give the power to somebody from Right or Left ?
-Stalin or Hitler
-Very funny. It's not black or white and actually it doesn't have to be so binary either.
-Why don't you do politics since you like so much ?
-Can't I cook if I'm not a Chef ?
-Are you 5 or something ? You do realise that power fucks up everybody; none of them even remotely cares about what happens to us. Why do you care about them ?
-Because it's my money, my education, my job, my pension they're dealing with, surely I should care and so should you !
-When they will stop being so fake and do their jobs, surely I will do.
-Let's hope it won't be too late then".
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