Back to the wall, my name is Remi, I face the black immensity. I see nothing. on the ground, I sit cross-legged. There, I observe my thoughts dancing in my head. If I could, I sing the melody that keeps going.
No, that's just me. I see a runoff guitar notes of his reach. Sometimes blankly, sometimes black voice, in a sense, the way of the music. I can enjoy the peace of silence. I can shoot this beautiful arc without racism. I'm fine.
I do not feel neither weakness nor standard. I get carried away on the sounds of the world.I visit this place all over the world. I fly to accept agreement. I fly under the influence of world music. I am here but otherwise well. I listen to the vibrations that cause me to the understanding that moves my body.
I'm not I'm the puppet of the instrument. The guitar is out of tune to tie all the parts that constitute it. He has control of my movements. As soon as he starts to play, scraped on these strings make me danser.Such thanks, I compose the score. slow gestures break time. Turn on the lights. I live by the spirit of the music.
Sometimes the simple things forgotten. Improvisation of my body as a musician I fly rod without thinking. I am this movement to escape this life. I am other than me. I dream that I am far from such a drug, I was entranced by the rolling sensation. Suddenly! Nothing comes without knocking my mother and said, " You did your homework. "
Auteur
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