A slight frost on the car this morning. Light winds just to make one shudder. A little rain, fine, not clumsy, replaced the pale sunlight which we pretended to play the spring. A Sunday without jostling of the body and mind to freewheel, the weight of years requires some idiot breaks no remorse. Do nothing, a way of life when the body balks, it is called "need to make law." Books, music, there at your fingertips, sometimes a long pause without touching it, waiting ... of what, done? The dream with no chance of realization: the arms of my eldest son around my shoulders tired, my hand on his arm helping to walk smoothly with him, his smile. Seven years ago, these are my hands that guided him on the path of his cruel death foretold. If I could, I would quickly quickly reinstated in my belly to protect it as I had promised during his birth. The drama of the mother is powerlessness .
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