12 July 2025

Ne me quitte pas (Don’t leave me)

There’s a scene in Louis Garrel’s film Petit Tailleur where the protagonist arrives too late to pick up the woman he has fallen for. In other instances, the long-desired woman may or may not show up at the train station, unaware of how that single choice can define the bittersweet nature of a life.

I have always been that person jumping on the platform – the starry-eyed romantic (or hopeless idiot, however I may see it depending on my mood), the one too attached to people and memories to simply let go. I hold no grudges and forgive easily, because I understand that life isn't always so simple. I would be the one pacing the platform, handwritten love letter in hand, until the final whistle, ready to accept whichever way the story unfolds – yet often ending up sad or disappointed.

This feeling, this act of desperately holding on, found its voice for me recently in Jacques Brel's iconic song, Ne me quitte pas (Don't Leave Me). It made me reflect on my creative drive, which always finds its roots in reality, even if I enjoy leaving readers to wonder to what extent my stories are true. In hindsight, four instances define when I want to write, draw or shoot/edit videos:

When I remind myself of the joy of experiencing the creative process. Reading can thus act as an inspiring reminder and impetus. I would even sometimes appreciate its output. I am demanding with myself, but I’m also learning to be kinder towards myself – and others.
When I meet amazing people: I feel a deep desire to capture and reveal the extraordinary in them.
When I’m reflecting: on life, on topics of interest to me, or on thrilling experiences lived and beautiful sights seen while travelling, for example in the desolate, high mountains of Argentina.
And finally when I’m hurting. Sadness only tends to have, on the contrary, a lethargic effect – feeling wounded like a lost, disheveled puppy who's been kicked in the guts is the “hurt” I'm talking about.

These days, all four reasons seem to be converging – including the reading of the 900 beautiful love letters between Albert Camus and Maria Casarès. Oh how I should have ignored the silly naysayers, the mean critics, the unkind people… Albert and Maria, you are my true friends…

This isn't about pretending my work is perfect. But I give it a real shot, I put in the time and I try to improve after a careful analysis of my flaws (e.g. by rereading my stories numerous times, by recording myself when I’m shooting videos). At the very least, this process brings solace to a soul often crushed by the passing of time or to a mind that often feels lonely, even when surrounded by others. At best, it inspires others or makes them relate to my pieces – although to have a wide impact, I should put more effort in promoting what I do… but for some reason, it’s as if I didn’t really care if anyone notices, I’m not too sure why.

Most recently, I dabbled into acting – specifically, transforming song lyrics into dramatic monologues, inspired by actor James McNicholas who’s performed some excellent impressions. Since I’m a native French speaker (and French being the most beautiful language, isn’t it?!), I thought I’d give it a shot with a famous French song, Ne me quitte pas, by Belgian singer Jacques Brel, a song which resonated well with the feelings I have been experiencing lately. I have little to no experience in acting but I love a good challenge, especially when it comes to doing everything myself, from designing the set, to rehearsing and acting, self-filming and editing the video. The result isn’t too bad but judge for yourself:

As you watch, perhaps consider the elements which I had in mind when producing this piece (and have fun grading me): genuineness/believability of emotions; vocal dynamics/articulation; physical/stage presence (body gesture, facial expressions); pacing and rhythm; power to captivate and connect (even if that connection is discomfort).

I’m currently editing the behind-the-scenes video which is proving to be an even bigger task since I have shot a lot of B-roll footage. I don’t know if I’ll be able to give a good sense of how exhausting the shooting of multiple takes was. It was both a joyful experience – actually creating something – and a tearful one – sincerely feeling the emotions conveyed by the lyrics although, ironically, Jacques Brel always insisted they were a “hymn to the cowardice of men”, or rather his own cowardice in not recognising that he was responsible for the pregnancy of his mistress.

This song was reinterpreted by many different singers and in many different languages – so I loved to, once again, play on the ambiguity of what this song actually means to me, even if begging for someone to not leave them is usually an unmistakable sign of heartbreaking sadness and an act of belittling oneself that is almost certainly in vain…

PS: the behind-the-scenes video is coming soon and will be linked here. Subscribe to my channel to see it first.