winter ... the dawning of a southern beach, he walks on the shore, looking toward the horizon. Last memories of the dream. I get up almost shooting. I go downstairs. Into the kitchen. I open the fridge. All doing the least possible noise. I take the first thing that I find. Must be the cold. Too cold. I move the window curtains. I look through the cracks of the shutter. It 's still dark. But the kitchen clock marked a quarter to six. I no longer sleep. I'll be back in the room just to put on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. I take the car keys, I want to leave. My parents are asleep, my sisters as well. I can not wake them up. I can close the door without making too much mess. Now they are quiet. I go down the stairs of my apartment building, always colder than the outside temperature. It takes me a little 'remember where my father leaves the car back from work. Found. I put the key in the door, sit down. A smell of tobacco mixed with lemon Arbre Magique pervades the interior. The old leather seats are impregnated. Cigars of my father on the seat to my right, along with some old sheet. I open the window manually, the smell was killing me. Whether the urge to smoke, and for the risky combination with lemon. Enter a breezy spring, almost the sweatshirt is not enough. I close the half and put in motion. I realize that I have no idea where he wants to go. I have not thought of a destination. And the gas tank is by no means full. I think all my friends will stay asleep. Maybe some will even out. And who knows in what conditions. I decide to leave and take the streets at random. I do not want to think about an itinerary and even I need. I just wanted to leave home to do something, I lack sleep. Certainly I would not asleep again. Pop my head out the window and puddles. The night before it rained. A shower, I suppose, while I was sleeping. The morning air still knew a bit 'of rain. I hold the steering wheel as if he were to guide me. Do not touch too much speed or the accelerator at a speed the same. The minutes before dawn are lit by a moon of the street lamps in the gardens. Everyone is asleep, except a man with a cigarette. Goes in the opposite direction to mine. I have a direction? Unconscious. Bring a dog on a leash. A half-breed, for what little I see. It should be calmer, slower than me. The excess and turn on the radio. Turn down the volume, so the music is just for me. A guitar breaks the silence of the clouds that watch the walls of this forgotten suburb. A song about fifteen years ago. I know it well. The car takes me all over the place as anyone. I do not know. And I do not want to know. These agreements contribute noise to take me away from this deserted road in the province. A look at the horizon, he walks on the shore. And behind the winter dawn of a southern beach ...
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