Pontaillac, June 1985
I drank a little bit this evening ; my confused mind doesn’t find the sleep refuge.
I hear , in the distance, the murmur of the sea.
Leaf shadows dance in the glow of the moon, on my ceiling. Their slow movement reminds me of Capucine who held me in her arms while we were dancing , still wet, by the pool, on Shake The Disease.
When I close my eyes, snatches of conversation arise.
Colin, explaining the words.
It is like a substantial discomfort, which takes hold of our tongue everytime we try to say what comes out of the smooth circle of agreed language.
The character speaks to his love, but doesn’t say that she is. He needs understanding on her part, she, who knows him better than anyone.
Their love is something extraordinarily strong; but it must be felt in the absence.
That’s how it has to be built and shaped, some spiritual stream, eternally growing between them; even if they are not together.
Apparently, this is not their first conversation about it; but there they are about to separate. And for him, it is vital that they separate; but at the same time, his heart begs her stubbornly for comprehension.
I don’t know what happens, but Edouard, who hardly speaks to me usually, turns to me and tells me:
– It talks about you, Eponine.
It throws like a cold in the assembly but for once I’m not looking at my feet:
– It doesn’t have to be necessarily called poetry. That’s just what we can feel for each other.
– What absolutely everyone can feel, adds Colin behind me.
And at the end of the evening, after all this delicious food; and those evening swims, they play it finally; my record.
Nobody really dances in rhythm; because it’s not one of these easy summer songs which cadence nicely suits to friends meetings.
Besides, Colin doesn’t dance; he’s like collapsed on a reclining chair by the indigo water , staring into space.
And it’s Capucine who accompanied me this evening on my song; I can still feel the freshness of her wet arms .
– Are you sleeping, Eponine?
– Not yet, I can’t.
– You can come and use my record player; with headphones of course to avoid parents’crisis … But I’m sorry, I didn’t find “Some Great Reward” in my board School boxes.
It will be for tomorrow, I really need to rest …
4 commentaires sur “You know how hard it is for me …”
Moi j’ai toujours trouvé les paroles de cette chanson terribles même si elle est très belle..
Ben , il y a bien quelque chose d’amer dans leur situation mais en même temps il est tellement sincère …
Here’s a good brother !
Quite a good brother but with some ice tea and a perfumed candle it would be nicer I think …