Being young is not having any money; being young is not minding not having any money.
— You're not in Paris?
— You didn't know? I guess not, 'cos you never call. So why now?
— To touch base.
— Why me? I'll tell you why. 'Cos you don't have the balls to call Mum. 'Cos Léa would make you feel like such a shit...
— That's not it.
— But I'll go easy on you.
— It's not that at all.
— What is it then?
— I miss you all.
— You have no shame?
— Look, nothing will change.
— Yeah, as if.
— You're all mad at me, but later...
— What about later? We'll get used to it, right? In Syria, they got used to being bombed. In Africa, they got used to AIDS. So why wouldn't we get used to this? After all? Anything else? No? Okay, see you.
Father. You always call to say nothing in particular. You ask what i’m doing or where i am and when the silence stretches like a lifetime between us i scramble to find questions to keep the conversation going. What i long to say most is. I understand this world broke you. It has been so hard on your feet. I don’t blame you for not knowing how to remain soft with me. Sometimes i stay up thinking of all the places you are hurting which you’ll never care to mention. I come from the same aching blood. From the same bone so desperate for attention i collapse in on myself. I am your daughter. I know the small talk is the only way you know how to tell me you love me. Cause it is the only way i know how to tell you.