Letter to Angèle4 reading minutes

Le Regard Libre N° 65 - Loris S. Musumeci

Special file «Generation Angèle»

And what's the point, I'm so alone in front of my screen... But I'm writing anyway. A few words that come out, without knowing if they will ever reach the woman who inspired them. Angèle, I've been following you for over a year. Ever since I discovered a song on the radio that shouldn't have been played because your words aren't very beautiful... on May 29, 2019 - which, if I remember the date, means it's a big deal - my stomach has lightened. I trembled. My heart went to pieces.

YouTube, I type «Throw your what», and I listen to you thirteen times in a row. I love it, I love it, I love it. After an hour, I stopped, but not without difficulty; it was past my bedtime, a long time ago. It was nighttime. I was falling in love in bed. Eyes open. Emotional. In tears. Because I listened to you, but I also saw you. Dancing, singing, purple polo, white skirt, then in a farandole of costumes.

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«A simple sentence that I can't get out of my mind».»

I've seen you aggressive, I've seen you rude - or almost. I've seen you still young and fragile. But I've also seen you strong and mature. I've seen you assertive. I've seen you sensual. I've seen you funny. I've seen you blonde. I've seen you fresh. Like your beer. I've seen you slender. I've seen you offer your body to the screen, in movements that have become caresses for my pupils, in movements in which you nonetheless retain your full and proud modesty. Which makes you all the more charming. 

I heard you. A soft voice. A voice that scratches a little, and feels good. I heard you in the text, definitely feminist, I heard you in the interpretation of the text, definitely feminine. Mmmmmmmmh... you're going to make me vascilleeeeeeer. I'm cracking up. Your voice takes me away. Gone with the wind, and your voice too. Right down to the details. I heard you with a hint of Belgian accent, in a sentence, a simple sentence, that I can't get out of my mind: «I'll be polite for TV». Hook on the «s» and «r» that scratches that phrase in me. It's silly, I know, but that's the effect you have on me. Faced with you, I go into a daze.

«Far away from you, I too live in the spleen»

Ever since I met you, everything has been a blur, a little too blurred for me. Since I've known you, it's insomnia, the city sleeps, I see shadows as bodies. Your body dancing, melting, flowing into me and filling me up. I'm full of love. I'm full of you. I would like you to return to your kingdom tonight, to be my queen tonight. I wish, I wish, I wish. And yet...

And yet, I don't care about everything. You should forget everything. You know your success; you have your life, your love. Far from you, I, too, live in the dark. spleen. Even if... «the spleen it's not complicated to be happy». Well, be happy, Angèle. I will be too. By keeping you in my heart. Filled with love, because that's what you've given me through your songs, through your person. Your beauty. An unattainable beauty, which no doubt confirms to me that love is stronger when it's hopeless. Because against all odds, Angèle, I love you. The rest, we'll see.

Write to the author: loris.musumeci@leregardlibre.com

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