aube

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J'adore l'odeur de l'air à nuit. I don't mean in the evening, at 6 PM or 7 PM, or even later, at 12 AM or 1 AM, but around 3 AM. Just before the birds begin to sing and right when the sun first yawns. The air has a distinctive smell at this time. It smells sweet. Un bonbon immatériel, née de souvenirs et d'erreurs, qui ton laisse mal au cœur. But that's what nostalgia always does I suppose. The ache is so familiar. It hurts, but it's addictive. It makes my world turn out okay. Sometimes it brings tears to my eyes and a sigh from my lungs. I cannot yet say whether they are tears of joy or sadness nor whether it is a sigh of contentment or want. Perhaps a bit of both. The air at 3 am is so full of life. I never want to let it go. Je me sens toujours en sécuritée et bon et vrai, mais je me cache peut-être dans une cueillette de cerises, tard dans la nuit, de joyeuse souvenirs.

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