J'aimerais bien sentir encore le vent effleurer la peau, le soleil sur le visage. La mer me manque.
I don't at all like this feeling of falling slowly that seems to be part of the fever. I do not feel very... solid. I've the impression that the whole world is made of water, that anything could enter by way of these white walls, that I could float like wood on the waves. Ridiculous, evidently.
I should like very much to feel the wind brush my skin again, the sun on my face. I miss the sea.