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The calm swell of old couples

Modifié le : 2016/09/05

I pulled out my iPad, in the sub­way, opened a mind-map­ping appli­ca­tion to lay the first foun­da­tions of a nov­el. The sub­ject is still too vague in my lazy lit­tle head, and prob­a­bly also stuck to my real­i­ty. Since my sto­ry is still out there, it is dif­fi­cult, even dan­ger­ous, to seek a conclusion.

In short, it’s the anguish of the plan. There’s too much to say about love. Many will say that every­thing has been said and they are prob­a­bly right. Every­thing has been thor­ough­ly described with Greek mytholo­gies and, since then, we have been going in cir­cles. Lit­er­ary mas­ter­pieces are as many beau­ti­ful carousels as there are col­or­ful sto­ries. The axis is, how­ev­er, the same ; the human tragedy (in its noble sense) will not be dis­lodged from its base any time soon. At most, the first impulse, which is to pro­cre­ate, has been trans­formed in the human race into mul­ti­ple metaphors of the game. Nature will not be offend­ed by it (it is not offend­ed by any­thing) since in this way it rein­vents itself.

So, we nev­er seem to get tired of telling the same things, of liv­ing the same hours and days. A young writer would prob­a­bly not have the same vision. Ready to fight human nature, he will has­ten to put his pas­sions as much on paper as his wet tis­sues. He will not want to read and lis­ten to what has already been said, and he will be part­ly right to blind him­self to start over. It is a lit­tle bit for this rea­son that I no longer read much because I still have the desire to dis­cov­er meta­da­ta that is still unexplored.

I know that a love sto­ry often comes from an ocean that has become too calm, too spread out. What must be remem­bered from this state­ment is the adverb “too.” I also know that many peo­ple are con­tent (and prob­a­bly always right) to live their love with­out mak­ing too many waves. I have already writ­ten, in fact, at the begin­ning of a nov­el, that if qui­et lovers had noth­ing to say, it is because they were prob­a­bly dumb­found­ed by their happiness.

It’s a nice lit­tle trick. I know that the calm swell of old cou­ples exists. I also know that many aspire only to that, to find a com­pan­ion, and to build a dock on an ocean lived togeth­er, to sit there and plunge their feet into ben­e­fi­cial water. I also know that, after hav­ing crossed many oceans, many give up as much as they give up their will. Either they resign them­selves, or they under­stand that there is no point in fighting.

It always comes down to that : to be con­tent with a total­ly deserved hap­pi­ness. Old cou­ples, who have seen many oth­ers, look up from time to time at the more adven­tur­ous swells on the hori­zon. Some will go so far as to call the storm, want to relive the adven­ture of redis­cov­er­ing every­thing. We know where this leads. Greek mytholo­gies already spoke of it.

What about me in there ? I don’t know where my boat is tak­ing me. I have some use­ful address­es, one could say, beau­ti­ful souls around me. I too am drag­ging my feet on the shores of a lake that many would not want because it is prob­a­bly a lit­tle wilder than the usu­al sto­ries. I’d like to tell it, but I still have to keep my mouth shut. We do not name the unfath­omable in some reli­gions, for fear that it will explode or that we will real­ize that the depth so feared is only an ordi­nary pud­dle on asphalt. So, am I afraid ?

Pause.

There’s real­ly a lot to say about love. How come we real­ly did­n’t say every­thing ? This is a love­ly enigma.

I believe that, since we all know the same end, we must remain hon­est, even in love. This dimen­sion of exis­tence must be includ­ed in this oth­er, larg­er dimen­sion of our real­iza­tion, undoubt­ed­ly per­son­al, but also transper­son­al. I believe that if we keep repeat­ing our­selves, it is because we keep for­get­ting. Amne­sia is what dri­ves us always to want to recre­ate our­selves. The water of the seas will be grey when our eyes no longer dream.

But, then.

But, then.

The writer is look­ing for his story.

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