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  • They say Cavalière is old, hopeless,
    When it seems to me that where the wind is warm,
    Where our united family haunts,
    There is nothing to do, nothing to say, just love to confess.

    In Cavalière, I left my small room facing a tree,
    For a blue suite, coveting the sea.

    In Cavalière, the waves are wild,
    Sometimes gentle and paradisiacal
    They once came like a wrecking ball,
    Fissuring with our memories, the wall.

    This house use to know the youth of the seniors,
    The mistakes and the laugh of our mentors.
    Cavalière was an institution, a creek,
    And now has begun a fight to forget it quick.

    In Cavalière, between the foam and the ramshackle walls,
    I learnt how to befriend my sister,
    To be a niece, a cousin, a daughter,

    And somewhere, sitting on the rocks, looking at the sea;
    We learnt how to be alone, but not lonely.
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