Aubaine translates to "godsend" or "bargain." It's a charming and somewhat less common word that evokes a sense of unexpected good fortune.
In the song, the lyric "Mon amour, quelle aubaine" (My love, what a godsend) expresses the singer's feeling that meeting his beloved was a stroke of luck, a truly fortunate event. It adds a touch of poetic appreciation to their relationship.
“Bruxelles” is a bittersweet postcard from a love that has lost its sparkle yet can’t stop day-dreaming about what could have been. Over buoyant brass and a carefree groove, Boulevard des Airs and Lunis paint the scene of two partners standing on opposite shores of their relationship: he stays “au port,” she drifts back to Brussels. The narrator rewinds time in his mind, imagining that first electric meeting when compliments flowed, charm came easily, and every glance felt like gold. The fantasy is playful—he’d watch her dancing like a Jackson Pollock drip, she’d glow on a Mondrian canvas—yet every “if only” is followed by the sober reminder that they are already worlds apart.
By turning Brussels into a metaphorical crossroads, the song captures the tug-of-war between nostalgia and resignation. It’s a colourful collage of romantic regret: upbeat enough to make you sway, honest enough to sting. In just under four minutes, the track reminds us that sometimes the greatest distance in love isn’t measured in kilometers, but in the moments we missed and the words we never said.