Someone writes poetries, novels, or takes photographs, or plays football,  draws or paints….I sing. Also with my out-tunes, I listen  to myself and smile. Sometimes I feel embarassed, sometime I am touched. Perfection is far from everybody, but if you feel satisfied....you enjoy it. I am glad I had the courage (too much) to call myself  into question, to win my privacy  regarding  to the emotions. I think to the reactions of the people who will listen to me : hilarity, a half smile, the perfectionist’s righteous indignation, someone who will tell me anyway “bravo”. No glorification of me at all, look well, I know my limits. Just the wish to share my emotions with someone who will  listen through my voice  the love songs  accompaining a part of my life. However it goes…..I am happy.

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