ch: i am wild


So, it’s fanon and canon for Grantaire to tell Enjolras “I am wild.”

The phrase in the original French text is “Je suis farouche.” Every translation of that phrase I have seen is “I am shy.”

Am I an idiot? Or is this another of Hugo’s puns, because farouche is also the name of the recalcitrant seed, and recalcitrant means “having an obstinately uncooperative attitude toward authority or discipline.”

What is the deal? Could somebody help me?

What is it to live? To breathe? To feel? None show meaning unless you, yourself provide a meaning to build off of. Living, breathing, and feeling provide no meaning for me. They are just accessories that linger with my soul, lost and forgotten. My voice holds seldom power over the lost world I travel. The vacuum society crafts seems to just suck up all sound and passion one may speak of. No one to hear but the very wind that keeps them company in the darkness. They whisper together in secret and howl together in pain. The very gale is objectified by our elite society yet personified by the non-elite, for it is their friend.