� � How are you? To be happy, even without saying it, even without saying it. � A god of convalescence that puts you back in force, but you want to do without. In line at the Ministry of the High Seas, and who knows, maybe a book is enough to take your arms off and put two wings in them. The sideral spaces, your red sweaters, the parties, the bad weather that doesn't go away anymore. For me that we don't sleep well, for me that I never learn, for you that you don't know how to explain, when I ask you how you are. To be happy, even without saying it, even without saying it. To be so different, for me that I never learn, for you that you don't know how to explain, when I ask you how you are. To be happy, even without saying it, even without saying it. Even without saying it, even without saying it. � �