Christine and the Queens opens Here by planting an emotional flag in a single word: “Here.” It is the place on her scarred back where memories live, the battlefield where she fought to shape her own identity, and the ash-covered ground where a new face rose from a past inferno. Her French lines paint a fragile geometry of self while the English chorus pleads, “Don’t let anything be lost,” reminding us that memory can bite like an untamed animal yet still guide us home.
Then Booba storms in with a raw, diamond-hard verse. He speeds down Avenue de la Précarité in a Porsche, fires lyrical bullets at rivals, and flaunts fortunes that dwarf the minimum wage of Greece. His imagery of luxury, violence, and existential shrugging collides head-on with Christine’s vulnerability. The contrast turns the song into a thrilling dialogue: soft versus hard, art-pop versus street rap, remembrance versus reckless forward charge. Together they show that “Here” is not just one spot on a map but every battle scar, every triumph, and every contradiction that makes a person—and a society—feel unmistakably alive.