« It may not be too late we must still try
To live pushes aside the threads of the rain the wild wind
Comes like a horse that gets up what a beauty
You have probably crumpled the river but everything flows
Since the black waters of childhood

Your sorrow
Your rage you must throw everything in the sewers and bathe
Naked in the leaves of the sky wrapped in clouds
You must fly like an angel laugh sing and laugh
Pass through all the rooms write a poem
That you will read on all the roads in all the beds
A poem that gives a thousand lives Don’t give up
Hope

An abandonment is a tree that dies. « (Alain Duault)