FR - EN The little mice or the you-crumbs I like reading you, touching you. I like everything related to you, for real. And even not for real. Even for supernatural. When I see a cup falling, a tea leaf taking a sort of shape, I think of you. If the cup breaks, it's interpretation time. If the tea leaf smiles, I smile. So cheesy think the little mice. These little bodies eating everything at my place. Not the breadcrumbs, I mean. The you-crumbs. The little mice are my last memories of us.