L'anti-chronique d'une mort annoncée
This is you.
Eyes closed,
out in the rain.
You never thought you'd be doing
something like this.
You never saw yourself as,
l don't know
how you'd describe it, as...
like one of those people
who like looking up at the moon,
or who spend hours gazing at
the waves or the sunset or...
l guess you know what kind of people
l'm talking about
Maybe you don't
Anyway, you kinda you kinda
like it being like this,
fighting the cold
and feeling the water seep
through your shirt
and getting through to your skin.
And the feel of the ground
growing soft beneath your feet
and the smell.
And the sound of the rain
hitting the leaves.
All the things they talk about
in the books that you haven't read.
This is you.
Who would have guessed it?.
You.
Il s'agit de My Life Without Me.