Pierrefonds, lundi 23 juillet 2013. Today I wake up watching two young men feed a young bird in my sister's potch. Whatching them reminded me of a lost story that I wrote about a young girl and a bird. As well as the young girl in my story, one of the young men had found a young bird left along in the mud while walking on a trail. In his story he was feeding the little bird the same way the little girl did in my story. When we are looking for a trace of TRUTH after a rainy day, we can only relay on the memory of events. I found that my own creation have an impact on others somehow, event if they are not published. Others do what we create. We create what others are doing. I must write the story of the young girl again since watching the young man taking care of that young bird make me re-live the possible emotion of young readers of such story...

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