The missing boy

The boy who made your heart
Skip a beat with a wink
The one who made you laugh
Whith stories good for shrinks

The boy who used to cheer
Your paintings and your pics
The one who used to call you
Love, angel, stupid dream

That boy is missing now
He’s left, he’s far away
His place is now the scene
For a man who cannot play

A man with busy hands
And wiser, heavy eyes
A man who can tell stories
A man who can tell lies

A man you wouldn’t know
But if you need a clue
A man with a sad smile
Each time he thinks of you.

An amazing weekend

What a weekend! It started on Friday night with the long-awaited Steven Wilson’s concert. Great band, huge sound and the pleasure of meeting Nick Beggs, the bass player. I told him I could remember when he started his career with Kajagoogoo and how amazing was the bass beginning of “Too shy”. “You’re old!”, he said. Yes, indeed…


The morning after, my heart is still moved and dizzy because of the concert aftermath but there’s no time to rest: I am gonna fly to London for the Rugby World Championship match between France and Italy!

Despite a deflated propeller, we safely land in Gatwick. A huge thanks to our heroic pilots 😀


The Twickenham stadium is a pure beauty and the atmosphere overflows of a joyful excitement. Singing my national anthem along with thousands of people is something moving and unique.


Well, no surprises about the score. On the other hand, I have to say that as a lifetime football fan I wasn’t expecting such a friendly attitude between the two opposite team’s supporters. Hugging and congratulating each other for the good game and going for a pint together is something that makes me love rugby way more than for the game itself.


But it’s time to fly back already. Back home at 5am, with the feeling of having had one of the most unforgettable weekends of my life.

Much love, HC


Fireworks remind me of a little boy, scared by the noise of the shiny blasts. They remind me of my father’s comforting hand holding mine, his happy smile and the thousand colored stars reflecting in his eyes. A gift for him, as he used to say, since the yearly spectacle matched with his birthday.

Somehow, they remind me of my roots in a more deep and tender way than all the images, tastes and sounds of my childhood. This is why, each time the show recurs it’s always a very special moment to me.

Unexpected, they came back a few nights ago and my camera was at hand. I’d like to share with you these few pics taken from my balcony… By the way, do you mind if I take your hand?

Much love, HC


Hot air, sand under my feet
Feels like the first time
I can barely remember
The small house lying by the sea

Shadows in black and white
Pulsing light of my night
Dad is waiting awake
For a small and huge leap

One day I will understand
But let me sleep for now
One day I will rewind
And watch those shining men walk

And I’ll listen to that song
The one I knew by heart
The one that made me sing
In a way that made you laugh

And I’ll enjoy melancholy
Of summers faded away
And a young father’s smiles
On yellowed photographs

Well I still sing that song
And I get its meaning now
It speaks about our summers
And your laughter rings again.

Thanks to my sweet Calen for inspiring such memories

By the way, the song:

The undying

He screamed his lungs out
In the same empty room
Gravity crushing down
Heavy words one by one

The echoes won’t reach her
She’s safe behind the dikes
They will just fly over
Shadows cast by the clouds

Forever she will wait
But winds won’t sweep her sky
And a new love won’t kill him
‘Cause soulmates never die.


One hell of a month…

Too many memories colliding. Facts that were shouted out loud and changed my life forever. Fireworks on the Seine. Moving out alone. Birthdays that I can’t forget, including mine 😐 Sensory reminders crawling under my skin, my very own bittersweet Proust’s madeleine. No surprise if I feel down.

Escaping is hard. I need to stop writing while thinking of the only person who will never read. I can’t blame her, in her shoes I wouldn’t come here either. Maybe the blog title should change and the point of view evolve. But I can’t write about jokes or tips about how to live happy, that’s not like me. Melancholy stays, even while I try to drop the sorrow and the regrets.

I have some friends here who helped me a lot (even if they are not always aware of it) and I cherish all of you because of who you are. Even while I need to move on, I still need your ethereal hands to pull me up.

For now, let’s celebrate July. No challenge, no themes, no questions asked, just meet me on a summer beach at night and I promise you we’ll have that glass too many…

Thank you again for hanging around here. And have a great July everybody!

Much love to you all,

The promise of a tree

I have been growing
In a fullness of absence
Each branch a challenge
And each leave a hope

Many winters behind
And a harder bark
I keep hearts and letters
Carved by lovers hands

I can be your shelter
When clouds break their promise
And I’ll be your shade
When your sun is too bright

And if you forget me
I’ll turn into pieces
And one day I’ll be fire
Warming your heart.