When goosebumps enshroud your skin and that momentary chill tiptoes along your spine.
Your mind is conveying "I have been here before.. This is not Déjà vu, this is the conspicuous realm of nonexistent memory."
Gut feeling or as they say, intuition, eats away the center of your belly
and you are safe in the confinement of your own skin, not knowing what it felt like to be asunder.
You have been there. You have been here. You have been in every moment of everything that exists and does not - just for that slight crevice of time.
A distant melody you've heard with adolescent ears but also an embrace you never had with the love you do not know.
The sound of that first morning snow on the window pane.
Fantasies of lives you've lived through at the end of the file cabinet of your frantic mind.
Sombre benevolence.

This is what La Double Vie de Veronique emits.