Little boys and little girls,
injured clumsy and disobedient kids,
in the playground they are, building a castle,
with burnt matches and children’s drawings.
They sing to the rhythm of
the ice cream seller’s music,
making the sacrifice of their innocence
and everything we took for granted.
You can’t break the spell that binds them
while they sing, they sing,
the end of their childhood. No or Yes ?
When we start sinning
to stay sane.

Justine Duhayon