Dear Mr. Molko.
You too have faced this ? You too have suffered the loss of loved ones, then rise on that stage, so full of light? You, occupying just over five feet high, filled with your voice you have miles of arteries and heart. The light was already the most popular music? O in your heart you had someone you had to leave? With that heart, who stood beside you, saw you fly too high, where the wings of wax people could not reach you? Being famous takes more effort than just sing. The love and passion for something, for Music, are impressive and powerful, eternal and more intense love for the poor people who can not understand. The music does not betray, not Art he never does, and that's what makes it better . Art is not capricious . And this is what's called the stage. Your heart beats in time with the guitar when you make love in every song, and forgot to accompany the rhythm than the others? It 's a job that you intended, forget, move, to be alone. Even you stay only with music, with no time for others live?
not want to be an artist, my dear Mr. Molko.
I do not want to hurt those who love me and I do not know. How do you do to me.
I do not want to hurt those who love me and know me even. As it happens, in my head or not.
I still have too much confidence in my life, the people I love, in the hope that I find people who believe in the first place , too much trust in the shared happiness, to become an artist.
There are none,
be if someone
I forget the time
with others.
PS
I understand them. Rechel and Andrew.
In them is my fear to love,
and a half because I loved
was and is a slow torture in which the attention
never enough.
And in them is my hope to believe
it really possible that there is anyone
that meets our needs perfectly,
our priorities, fears and the rest.
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