Musique, et que chacun se mette à chanter...

"Il y a des chansons qui nous font danser. Des chansons qui nous donne envie de chanter à tue-tête. Mais les meilleures chansons sont celles qui nous ramènent au moment où on les a entendu pour la première fois. Et qui nous brisent le coeur à nouveau." 

Et pourquoi la musique nous fait-elle ça?  Pourquoi associe-t-on des événements ou des rencontres à des musiques? C'est étrange de voir que parfois on ne trouve pas les mots pour s'exprimer alors qu'une chanson traduira parfaitement nos sentiments. En ce moment (et comme bcp de monde je crois) c'est Adele à fond!

To see or not to see. This is the question.

Mardi, 18h. La police norvégienne commence à publié quelques noms de victimes dont les familles sont déjà prévenues. Lorsque j'ai vu qu'elle était en ligne je me suis senti partagé. J'attends toujours des nouvelles d'un de mes amis alors j'aimerais la voir mais d'un autre coté j'ai peur de ce que je pourrais y lire car attendre et ne pas savoir ça permet de garder espoir. Mais finalement je suis allé sur le site, 13 nouveaux noms ont été rajoutés aux 4 qui avaient déjà été publiés. Le nom de mon ami n'y figure pas mais quelle tristesse de voir ces noms et surtout les dates de naissances qui sont presque toutes 1992/1993... Je me sentais touché en tant que norvégien sachant que les victimes avaient environ mon âge mais je me rends compte qu'ils étaient même plus jeune que moi car la majorité avait autour de 18/19 ans. J'ai même vu une petite de 1997, elle avait 14 ans. Comment peut-on prendre la vie à des enfants pour des motivations qu'ils ne seraient même pas en âge de comprendre?

Tuesday, 6pm. Norwegian police published some names of the victims whose families identified the bodies. When I saw the list was online I felt divided. I'm still waiting for news from a friend who didn't answer my email asking if he was okay. On one hand I feel like I want to see the list but on the other I'm afraid of what I could see on it. In the end I decided to check the 13 news names which were added this evening to the 4 names already published. My friend's name is not in there but I couldn't help feeling very sad when I noticed the birthdates of the victims... 1992/1993, it means they were around 18/19 years old. I feel concerned from the start because I'm norwegian but also because they were around my age, but I realise most of them were even younger than me. I even saw a birthdate 1997 which means she was 14. How can someone kill children for reasons they are too young to even understand?

"L'horloge tourne, les minutes sont acides."

Parce que le temps s'est arrêté. Ou plutôt parce que j'aimerais que le temps se soit arrêté. Le temps de savoir quoi faire avec mon cœur lourd. Le temps de savoir comment consoler ceux qui ont traversé l'horreur. Le temps de sécher leurs larmes et d’apaiser leur peine. Le temps d'éloigner la haine et de tendre la main à nouveau. Le temps de panser les blessures et de pleurer les disparus. Mais ça demandera trop de temps. Et le temps ne s'arrête pas pour nous. Il va, et si on ne va pas avec lui il nous échappe. C'est là le risque, d'être bloqué seul dans le passé. D'être bloqué avec les peurs, les larmes et la souffrance. Le temps n'efface pas tout. Ceux qui disent ça ont tort. La Norvège restera marquée pour toujours. Les norvégiens resteront fragiles pour toujours. C'est une blessure dans le cœur de chacun qui guérira mais qui laissera une cicatrice immense.

Prendre son temps ça veut dire avancer doucement mais avancer quand même. Parce que le temps amène les pardons, le soulagement de la douleur, la reconstruction, le retour de la confiance et le retour de l'amour. 

Prendre son temps c'est réapprendre à sentir le vent souffler sur son visage, à regarder les paysages changer au fil des saisons, à écouter la pluie tomber... Accepter que le temps passe c'est accepter toutes ces choses sans vouloir changer quoi que ce soit.

Yesterday when I went to bed, I noticed a really bright star through my window and I thought of you.

22 juillet, le cauchemar d'un peuple.

When I came back from work I turned the radio on in the car. People were talking about a bomb and people that had been shot earlier in the day when I decided to change the radio station and listen to some music. I was probably thinking "once again people died, it's like this almost everyday in the news." I didn't pay attention to this... until 8pm the TV news time in France. I saw the videos of hurt people running outside a ruined building, the subtitles were "a bomb exploded in Oslo". I couldn't believe it! Speechless I went to turn up the volume when they started to speak about the massacre in Utøya. I had to sit down and cry when I saw there was about 93 dead people, most of them of my age or even younger.

My dad went to call our family in Oslo to make sure they were fine. Luckily nothing happened to them because they don't live in the neighborhood where the bombs exploded. Then I thought about the friends I went to school with 3 years ago. I went to my laptop and sent an email to each of my 8 friends. Being on my computer I went to check facebook to see if people were talking about it. The page "Norway" I was already fan of was full of love and support messages from people from all over the world. But even then I still couldn't realise it was true.

The next day when I woke up I immediatly turned my computer and the TV on to see if there was more information and of course if my friends answered. They were showing the destroyed streets in Oslo and the people crying. I had 2 emails saying "I'm fine, I wasn't there but I'm so sad." Later the same day, I received 4 more emails with almost the same words over and over again "safe but sad, shock, incomprehension". I was relieved to hear from them.

On sunday I went to the church with my dad and we prayed for Norway, for the dead but also for the survivors. It's going to take so much strength to live a normal life again, if they ever can. In the evening I watched the news again, for the first time I saw a video taken from an helicopter. The killer was with his feet in the water, surrounded by about 20 dead bodies. How can someone do this? Just before I went to bed I checked my emails again, hoping for the last 2 friends to have answered. I had one only. A really long one, so long that I knew something was wrong.. My friend started the email with "I'm okay" probably to reassure me immediatly. But when I read more I felt my heart breaking inside of me. He was there, he saw him, he heard the gunshots and the people crying and screaming. He's not injured because he was lucky enough to jump in the water with his friends and they were helped by someone on a boat. So it is real. It really happened. I read his email 7 or 8 times since I received it. I don't know why. Maybe I think next time I open my mailbox I won't see it and I will realise it was only a nightmare. Or maybe I just need to read it over and over because I feel close to my friend. Indeed I would like to hold him in my arms right now.

A minute of silence to remember, to realise, to think, to cry... Today at work I was silent all day, every now and then I had to hold back a tear when a colleague came to me and told me how sorry he/she was because they all knew I'm norwegian. They decided to hold a minute of silence with me. I think it's really nice. When I came home this evening I couldn't think about something else than the last friend who hadn't replied yet. He still hasn't.