Modifié le : 2019/07/14

Two hun­dred and eighty copies sold. I write it in full, it seems more impor­tant that way. In one year, one could say despite the good reviews, I only sold this small pile of Falaise. What more can I say ? Should I con­sid­er the small size of the mar­ket in all its dimen­sions ? Indif­fer­ence ? That suc­cess or tal­ent is not mea­sured by sales ? That the act itself is suc­cess­ful ? That I’m already lucky to have my name in some lit­er­ary pro­duc­tion databases ?

All right, and I’ll glad­ly con­cede that. Let me be super­fi­cial here : I wish I had sold more for the mon­ey. For the rest, I have in my head all the ver­sions and vari­a­tions of these reflec­tions on art that have been writ­ten and repeat­ed for ages. It is nec­es­sary to be zen since, like the old fer­vors, in a few years only weak­ened bones and rocks good for split­ting the hori­zon will remain.

It is bet­ter to remain silent, not for­ev­er, but to bet­ter play the cards of one’s cre­ativ­i­ty, of one’s life.