Let me tell you a story.
No, let me set a scene, then tell you a story. That’s probably not the way max would have it done, but then max isn’t pulling an all-nighter and watching a thunderstorm out the window while slurping porridge (mixed “apples and cinnamon” and “maple and brown sugar”; what can I say, I’m a rebel) which I don’t mean to say means I shouldn’t write well, but that I am undoubtably the best writer in the world pulling an all-nighter and watching a thunderstorm out the window while slurping porridge (mixed “apples and cinnamon” and “maple and brown sugar”; what can I say, I’m a rebel) right now.
Or prove I’m not!
In any case, the scene is:
INT, Workspace, DAY, thunderstorm with hail
I’m pulling an all-nighter and watching a thunderstorm out the window while slurping porridge (mixed “apples and cinnamon” and “maple and brown sugar”; what can I say, I’m a rebel). Today I was going through a stack of unmarked CD’s for reasons of my own which shall remain nameless here for no particular reason except dramatic tension, frantically looking for one that was empty, and found a bunch with music files on them. I stuffed them into the backpack to transfer to the Zune later, and then Later arrived and I picked one up and put it in the laptop, preparatory to stuffing on the Zune, and it started to play and I stopped cold and went, “What IS that? That’s terrific!”
And “terrific,” I will have you know, is far too wholesome a word for me to use lightly.
Faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar.
And what was it, this song that was so terrific? Well, I had to wait till it was ripped to find out, because I don’t care how good your eyes are, staring at an unmarked CD will NOT give you that information, not even if you tilt it. And does anyone remember the name of that guy? That guy who could tell you what album, what version, he was looking at just by, you know, looking at it? WITHOUT the album cover, duh. Well, do ya, punk?
Right, the song. It was this song, quelqu’un qui m’a dit, which you can download here. It’s by Carla Bruni, now First Lady of France. If you like whispery, fragile brunette Euros who can carry a delicate tune, you’ll like this.
quelqu’un qui m’a dit
On me dit que nos vies ne valent pas grand chose,
Elles passent en un instant comme fanent les roses.
On me dit que le temps qui glisse est un salaud que de nos chagrins il s’en fait des manteaux pourtant quelqu’un m’a dit…
Refrain:
Que tu m’aimais encore,
C’est quelqu’un qui m’a dit que tu m’aimais encore.
Serais ce possible alors ?
On me dit que le destin se moque bien de nous
Qu’il ne nous donne rien et qu’il nous promet tout
Parais qu’le bonheur est à portée de main,
Alors on tend la main et on se retrouve fou
Pourtant quelqu’un m’a dit …
Refrain
Mais qui est ce qui m’a dit que toujours tu m’aimais?
Je ne me souviens plus c’était tard dans la nuit,
J’entend encore la voix, mais je ne vois plus les traits
“Il vous aime, c’est secret, lui dites pas que j’vous l’ai dit”
Tu vois quelqu’un m’a dit…
Que tu m’aimais encore, me l’a t’on vraiment dit…
Que tu m’aimais encore, serais ce possible alors ?
On me dit que nos vies ne valent pas grand chose,
Elles passent en un instant comme fanent les roses
On me dit que le temps qui glisse est un salaud
Que de nos tristesses il s’en fait des manteaux,
Pourtant quelqu’un m’a dit que…
Refrain
, Lucasian Professor for Mathematics at the University of Cambridge. You know, Cambridge. The one in England.
raincoaster 