Avoir peur, c'est avoir envie de vivre.

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What more could I ask for ?

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Le vent agite les fougères et les ajoncs sur l'île Milliau.
Il pleut en Bretagne, mais jamais très longtemps.
Comme dans le coeur des bretons.
Retour au pays.

Les drapeaux sont hissés,
les voiles sont dehors.
Tout est histoire d'équilibre.
Disent-ils autour d'un martini.

On rit beaucoup, on chante un peu.
On saute à pieds joints dans les vagues,
on fait l'étoile de mer à fleur d'eau.

C'est jour de repos.
I think my brain's trying to tell me something.
"Come on, Flotte, take a break."
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"Forgive. Forget. Fake it. Chin up. Wear lipstick, make lists, make sure your voicemail isn’t full. Mix protein shakes, send timely thank you notes, sip drinks more slowly, stare at adults’ eyebrows, smile without dimples, develop perfect posture. Be gracious, be kind, eliminate self-pity. Look in the mirror and shift your internal monologue from ‘How do I look?’ to ‘This is my face,’ from ‘What the hell am I doing?’ to ‘This is my life.’ Capitalize your emails, read the news, walk briskly, stay focused, and never, ever let on that you are somewhat lost and sometimes lonely and so completely confused (and would someone please just let me know what it is I’m supposed to do next, where exactly I’m supposed to go–). Just keep going. Go, and do not stop."

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