Ne pas m'aimer

When confidence sounds like playfulness rather than bravado, the world becomes a little more ironic. Here, self-love is not about the mirror, but about the inner light that cannot be hidden even behind puns and philosophical references. In every rhyming turn, there is a wink, as if a smile flashes between the lines: ‘Come on, admit it, you're hooked too.’

And all this is not out of arrogance, but out of the lightness of being, where goodness can be packed into a punch and tenderness into a beat. It seems that if hell exists, it is indifference. But as long as there is rhythm and a little warmth in the words, it is inevitable to fall in love.