Thanks (The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog)

Spring has come. It brought bright light and brilliant days along. Just had my daily cup of coffee. The sugar drawned in the cup because the cup was full. Now my mouth feels bitter, much better. Trying to read the news but they always come too late. And the sun is blue and I enjoy being home but by home I also mean the ground the trees the light the walls the people the smell the sound and things written in French everywhere.

Have you ever felt like you wanted to say thanks every time you walked in the streets, every time you drove on a gorgeous road with green hills in the background and the sea further away, each and every time you laughed with your friends, every morning when the sun gets high, or every evening when the shadow seems to heal the wounds of earth? I want to say thanks because I am lucky.

Thanks Ben for letting me steal Placebo from you. It sets the tone of this post. Thanks to Lina too for all the music you share with me. Phoenix, The Strokes, The Killers, Arctic Monkeys, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, from both of you, and Sylvaine too actually, are all much appreciated.

Sometimes you don't know what to say in the middle of a conversation. Here is a trick: try to speak about how you slept the night before . It saves discussions, because everyone has always something to say about the previous night. And not only that, but you'll be surprised by the diversity of things that can be said about a night of sleep. It makes me laugh every time I try because it always works.

Try this: open a new word page, and type or paste:

=rand(100,1)

Then press enter. Do that at work when you have nothing to do you'll be more indulgent.

Ok. I think that's enough for today. I really have to write my master's thesis on globalization and its effects on business. You were my last excuse before starting it but nothing's left in my imagination to be put in here.

Classic, not good enough. One day I'll write interesting things in English. Maybe in French too.

Take care,

Fabien.