Leaving the languid roundness of these days full of love and the veiled words of the golden nights... returning, for a short while, to where it all began, so many years ago... and reclaiming, without drama or tragic tears, one of the last pieces of soul of the music-loving shaman... Where will I find it? Around the corner of a traboule? On the Palais footbridge? In the cloister of the Saint-Pierre Museum, on a bench, chatting with Rodin's Thinker or the monk-like birds that beautify the ugly city? The Universe is a great mystery… and I serve it.