what did you want to see, what did you want to be, when you grew up?

A quite recurrent question in these sad autumn times.

A question I ask myself now, after my first two monthes of "baby"-sitting, job researches, long walks in the 11th arrondissement of Paris. What do I have to do now, and where do I have to go?
A friend of mine invited me at her "pendaison de crémaillère" party, invited me to come with my disguise of what i wanted to be when i was a child. Should I come with a white baker dress, scissors and a hair dryer, a long yellow ruler and a mathematics book? Should I come with my dreams, the blond prince on his white horse and my four cherubs?

23 is the age to go to concerts at Point Ephémère and close your eyes during the best 2009 indie songs. 23 is the age to drink half-pints at le Motel, 23 is the age to start too complicated love stories.
It's like the real floor is one meter under me, i feel like I am flying, but not too high. And I'm waiting for the end of that. Asking Benjamin, 12, fired of the school for this week: "what do you want to see, what do you want to be, now you're growing up"?