{"id":5734,"date":"2010-09-19T05:30:05","date_gmt":"2010-09-19T03:30:05","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/libelul.com\/?p=5734"},"modified":"2010-09-19T09:55:23","modified_gmt":"2010-09-19T07:55:23","slug":"1990s","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/libelul.com\/?p=5734","title":{"rendered":"1990’s"},"content":{"rendered":"

Moi les 1990’s c’est les papillons …<\/p>\n

Les amours impossibles, les passions.
\nSe demander s’il m’aimera toujours,
\nCe que je vais devenir.<\/p>\n

Regarder les arbres,
\net me rendre compte de ma petitesse.
\n\u00c9crire. Buller. Attendre que d\u00e9marre ma vie.<\/p>\n

Mon premier appart, mes chats.
\nSe croire ind\u00e9pendante,
\nTout en se demandant, dans quel \u00e9tat j’erre …
\nEt d\u00e9sesp\u00e9rer \u00e0 l’id\u00e9e de ne jamais me trouver.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>
\nBubble Bookshelf by Nicoletta Occela<\/p>\n

Attendre le prince … S’impatienter.
\nDanser toute la nuit, et planer.
\nBefore.After. Mais quel jour on est ?
\nRire.Pleurer.Crier.Aimer.Adorer.<\/p>\n

Sentir doucement que le temps s’acc\u00e9l\u00e8re.
\nEt se dire qu’il faudrait simplement accepter,
\nD’\u00eatre vraiment <\/em>adulte.<\/p>\n

Et pour les r\u00e9f\u00e9rences c’est un peu l\u00e0<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Et vous, vous les avez aussi br\u00fbl\u00e9es par les deux bouts, ces ann\u00e9es 90’s ?<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"\"\"<\/a>

Moi les 1990’s c’est les papillons … Les amours impossibles, les passions. Se demander s’il m’aimera toujours, Ce que je vais devenir. Regarder les arbres, et me rendre compte de ma petitesse. \u00c9crire. Buller. Attendre que d\u00e9marre ma vie. Mon premier appart, mes chats. Se croire ind\u00e9pendante, Tout en se demandant, dans quel \u00e9tat j’erre […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[38],"tags":[369,394,396],"class_list":["post-5734","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-mes-humeurs-et-concours","tag-bibliotheque","tag-decoration","tag-pensees"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/sosPp-1990s","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/libelul.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5734","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/libelul.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/libelul.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/libelul.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/libelul.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=5734"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/libelul.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5734\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/libelul.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=5734"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/libelul.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=5734"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/libelul.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=5734"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}