Laurentia

I live in Montreal. I don't know what I like. I don't know who I like. I don't know what I want to do with my life. I don't know who I am.

One thing I do know is that I am not the Other.

The Other who is beautiful, who speaks a beautiful and seductive tongue, which I do not speak. He is surrounded by friends, I don't have any. He is happy, I am not. A short time ago, the Other became my next door neighbour. His presence next to me, the sole fact of his existence, constantly bring me back to my own sorry state, and feel ever more intolerable.

I would feel so much better if he wasn't there, so much better amongst my own: the sons of Laurentia.