LOÏC
BackMr/Mme - Loïc Nottet
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The song had torn at me. I didn’t know why. Not fully trusting my senses, I had to dig deeper. Text written in one night. Her suffering translated into her mother tongue. Her body in the streets of Brussels. Her gestures saying as much as her crying voice. And then, on the canvas. There were those first three piano notes. Yes, of course there was her orange suffering, the violence of the brush. But there was that piano. A return to childhood. A music box filled with kindness and gratitude. I will paint him again. When he dances. When he offers us his crystal voice. Original text in French, translated by AI