Last night, I once again dreamt about the time I had long hair. Can you believe it? If I recall correctly, I cut it in 2000. At that time, Nirvana’s music was resonating in my ears. In the dream, someone was playing “Smells like teen spirit”. I was tenderly caressing my hair while sitting on the floor. If memory serves me correctly, I was also creating two charming pigtails.

I made it. Yesterday, for the first time, not a single thought of you crossed my mind. I owe it all to this beach. It doesn’t matter that it’s an hour away from the city; it possesses the power of a clear sky.

When returning, two teenagers, both around 16 years old, hopped on the tram. They were incredibly cool, gracefully holding two skates adorned with stickers and flower drawings. One couldn’t take his eyes off the other.
I think he had a crush on him.

I couldn’t stop looking at them, and I must confess that I secretly took some pictures.
 They remind me of when I was young and hiding my desire to fall in love and make trouble with small gestures.

It’s been 30 years, and here I am, back at the very same place. I suppose it’s not as terrible as I thought.
To ignore what awaits you around the corner, to kiss a stranger behind a tree, and to have secrets: the strange peace of feeling lost in a sweet and light chaos.

Drag portrait.