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Me, building

It has been almost ten years since I bought my house with my friend Yves. He lives on the ground floor, with her hus­band, I live on the first floor (or the sec­ond floor, depend­ing on how you num­ber the floors).

I plunged into my pho­to­graph­ic archives to find the main stages of the ren­o­va­tion of my apart­ment, a ren­o­va­tion that makes many peo­ple laugh because it lasts for­ev­er. It must be said that, if at the begin­ning I put time and mon­ey into it, it is because it was in my mind urgent to make the place hab­it­able. Too much plas­ter for my taste, too many par­ti­tions, an ane­mic bath­room, and a large and promis­ing dou­ble room, which I thought it was at the time, would allow me to build my pho­to studio.

Things have been hap­pen­ing in ten years. Start­ing with a grad­ual slow­down in the efforts put into the refur­bish­ment of each of the parts. I went there at first with the mon­ey from the sale of my con­do, then I got stuck in a line of cred­it. Then, the life that fol­lows its course, the pieces that do not succeed.

How­ev­er, I can say that the big stuff is done. The obser­va­tion is that I found the vol­umes that suit­ed me. When I look at each of the pieces, I can tell myself that I was the one who sculpt­ed the space, an exer­cise that was cer­tain­ly uncon­scious, car­ried out over a small peri­od, with more or less hap­pi­ness in terms of fin­ish­ing. Some­times I feel like I’m doing old with new, or “new-old”.

The apart­ment is too big for me. I don’t live in the large liv­ing room yet, which remains to be com­plet­ed. I’m miss­ing some doors. I can’t decent­ly invite peo­ple who don’t know where I could sit them. I don’t have a TV either.

If I have found vol­umes, they are not total­ly appro­pri­ate. They may be when I have to sell the house. But this, we’ll cross this riv­er when we get there. I’m not mak­ing a plan. Maybe I’ll take the pic­ture again one day. Maybe I’ll set up a sec­re­tary in the big room and write a great nov­el. Maybe a com­pan­ion will come with me or maybe I won’t do any of this. I read on Con­fu­cius, Socrates, and Bud­dha, many walls of silence could end there.

How­ev­er, I promise myself to cre­ate an album on the var­i­ous stages of con­struc­tion. This work deserves to be doc­u­ment­ed if only to prove its val­ue to apprais­ers ! God, I’ve worked hard and I’ll work again ! What if that’s all it is, build­ing ? It’s a form of prayer, isn’t it ?

It pass­es the time, it leaves a trace, that’s all I know how to do.

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