I cannot really decide what to write about, I just let it flow. It’s soothing either way. I use simple words. I could write in French, using complicated metaphors and philosophical concepts, Deleuze-like figures de style, but I prefer the bluntness of the English language. I find myself at home there. I’ve always felt more at home with a language than with a certain territory. Nationalism can only lead to disaster. That’s why I remain neutral in that area. No preferences. I have two citizenships already, that’s enough. I hate my birthland, I cherish the country I chose. But I seldomly mention the subject. I hate to be labelled, even with citizenships. Labels define and restrict, therefore belittle. Call me anything you like. My name’s irrelevant, I didn’t even get to chose. Like Freddy M, I’m not sure I even wanted to be here in the first place. But it is what it is. I live in a certain land in a certain place in a certain house. I call that a synchronicity now, because I would lose my mind otherwise. It happened, period.