de battre mon coeur s'est arrêté

in a way, you're right.
i am, yet, child.
i could wind around images of my childhood
like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel
some, consumed by life.
others, untouched.
the houses i never did, the lamps i never drew, the life i never lived.
feeding myself with a desperate will of freedom that carries a future imaginary life.