Dear Mez Breeze,
It is been long time. I turned 36 last week. This year also the 10th year I am working professionally as software engineer. Ten years ago, is also the time when I discovered your work. I remember in 2011, I read "Program or be programmed" by Douglas Rushkoff, and "The Filter Bubble" by Eli Pariser. Obama was president of the USA. I was trying to translate "Culture and Empire" by Pieter Hintjens in french. My domain name was something starting with hypermove, far fetched reference to Oxmo Puccino song "On ne danse pas":
That was validated by Ox himself. It was the beginning of Google+. I wanted to build a social network, reminiscent of my most popular previous project on top of Neo4J(ava), with the help of Tinkerpop, Gremlin, and my biggest time sink, and most dangerous programming language: Python.
I wanted an hypercube as the logo for wanna-be my hypersocial website. At the time, a socialite was defined by Google search engine as the one that likes to share. That is how I stumbled upon Augmentology blog. I remember that, not because I have giant memory. I remember all of that because it all makes sense in my life. You, explained a lot of the things I had doubt about. You were the concrete realization of many of my dreams, and questioning answers commonly accepted as truth. Even if you are noticeable and noticed, you take positions that go unnoticed or silenced around me. It is or least part of my education, partly influenced by various aspects of my life that getting noticed is not a good thing. After all, my dream is a continuous mesh of person with equals rights and opportunities where any of them can enjoy freedom, fulfill their passion, and realize their dream. You have a Wikipedia page. That is where I discovered about Mezangelle. Mezangelle made my mind, and my skills stronger. A Big Sister. Eventually there was hope. I crafted some lines myself, even got encouragement by you and others.
I kept a sugared version of my favorite line:
Karine and you were the ones that gave me the strength, courage and desire to voice myself.
What remains of that stream of thought is one question: "Should I learn French?". A couple of month later, you requested a translation of one piece I wrote and recorded. I did my best, and you told me that it was great. It is not about you or for you. It is time to break the spell. It is for nobody, and everybody in particular. I was meant to taunt. It is not perfect, I like it, even with the imperfections. There is a particular imperfection, that I do not want to take away, I was merely trying to voice some the infinite meticulous poetry of Mezangelle. Any time I think about it, I remember about you, Mez Breeze and the perfect deep drum of senses rhythm that are spelled out in your Mezangelle. Your question about learning french was impossible to answer. "Choose you own destiny". And the ever lasting question: For me? In fact, the last verses are a tribute to Mezangelle, except the very last line. And even the last line can only start to make sense if / when you both know french and Mezangelle.
It difficult today to tell what exists thanks to you, and what is my own deed.
You may or may not have invented Mezangelle, maybe all Mezangelle is a invention by you. My mother tongue and its associated history is a lie. Still, you are the one that wield it when I needed it.