Gon on to do

That man didn't go on to do something new. The last car had been his life. Now, this new car also could be his life but this car hadn't life itself; but, the Escort car had driven near river, near unkwon mountain; with five, six, seven, eight or nine kayak on the ceiling; it enjoyed taking all elements around it to discover people, place or why not? women. It was a nice and real car without chains. Sometimes it was sad, it was manipulated but it danced a lot of times listening to Moustaki, Brel, to discover French language, to listen to Nightnoise or another  Ramon Trecet's songs: Eva Cassidy, Paddy Malony and his unkown Chieftains, or Beatles or Van Morrison. A day, it dissappeared for ten days, when it returned, its last years, it played with young and crazy kayak polo's players who enyoyed it and dreamt to travel breaking frontieres. When I rembember speaking with that car, my head hadn't my new limits. We remember travelling to the Nord or Sud. Now, I'm alone, I remember to practise my new skills to write without these problems that I'm hoping to performe step by step but I risk writting without net but I'll learn to know new rules and new ways but its will be so differents!

I've promised to climb every small hill, to read every wonderful book to help me understand but a lot of times not accept old rules