To a passerby...

in #people6 years ago

Anais was a weird girl.

Because of her, I listened to a German song for six months. Practically every day.
It said something like "i am, i am, i am" and I thought it was absolutely awesome.

I knew she looked abrupt but I found her incredibly soothing. People saw her hard and indifferent, but she was the one I called that year when my ex-wife broke into my door and I was on the 36th floor. She had a boyfriend for a long time but he didn't live in the city where we study together.

I remember seeing her arrive in class one morning with a pair of jeans three times too big and even stranger, without makeup. She confided in me with a naturally disarming person that she had slept with C., a guy from our class we didn't particularly like, and that she hadn't had time to come home to change. I remember about our conversation.
"Ah but him! but why? What about your boyfriend? (the type in question was part of this group of hateful and sectarian Parisians who were avoided at all costs day and night)

"Well yeah, but he's handsome and I wanted to fuck him" and get back into our duty of tax law.

She was skinny as a nail, smoked a pack of cigarettes a day, drank more than reason, was tanned all year round. She was generous, lively, funny, spontaneous, free. It was good to have a friend like her in the midst of all those business school clones whose conversations were synonymous with deadly boredom.

Exhibitions of knights and exhibitions of genealogical trees. That habit of calling everyone "dude" with that falsely cool face. This vocabulary of just bare-bones that we had to endure as a "chopable" chick because not sure to be really "indestructible" even if not "overheated" to get drunk with them at OB. Hell.

I have never seen Anaïs since the end of our studies, I don't know anything about her, I don't think she went to Paris. Too classic for her.
She's someone I don't think about often, in the end we haven't been seeing each other that long, but I remembered her today when I realized that she had introduced two things into my life that have become essential over the years.

And I'm not talking about the explosive cocktail: cigarettes, alcohol, sex and sunshine (I'm niçoise after all, I didn't wait for her to understand my environment).
No, thanks to Anais, I discovered yoga and electronic music.
And this in the same day that I remember perfectly.
At the time (and still today, to a lesser extent), I hated presentations, public speaking. I prepared my speeches for hours and hours so that I would never be caught short, I escaped improvisation like the plague and I lived really badly these moments where all the glances would be fixed on me.

Anaïs told me one day, just before a role-playing game scheduled for the same evening in English class, that she knew something that could help me. She recommended that I change into a jogging suit and told me that she would pick me up for her yoga class later.
It was 12 years ago and at the time, yoga did not remind me of anything at all, neither a priori nor interest. I think I said OK because I was always intrigued by what Anaïs could do with his free time. In the car that was driving along the English promenade, she put a CD burned, I vaguely remember reading something in German.

I was looking out the window at the sea, which might as well have been a lake that day, and from the very first notes I felt incredibly good, wrapped in these hypnotic loops, hot and cold at the same time, totally floating. She tells me we were listening to Ellen Allien. She was a Berlin DJ.
I had always loved music. At home, it was the Beatles, Billie Holiday and Serge Reggiani who passed in a loop. A little later, I had crossed the adolescence rocked by the Hip-Hop of Nas and the R&B... of R. Kelly and it was only at the university that I discovered melancholy with The Cure of which I was an absolute fan, Hurêche Mode, Joy Division and also the Italian music of the 60s.

But this sound, even with the bad basses of his Peugeot 106, it was totally unknown to me and I felt overwhelmed by a new emotion. She taught me that this style had a name: minimal, DJs used sounds from everyday life, it was called ambient. This thing that made you tripe, it was actually the stretched sound of the subway doors that closed for example.
Then I discovered Paul Kalkbrenner and Berlin Calling, another shock. I, who had never particularly liked to dance, would now sometimes attend a DJ set (ok, once...) on my own, feeling the music all over my body.

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