The drawers

Modifié le : 2017/12/26

Spring is com­ing, the air is soft, the light more gen­er­ous. I dreamed of witch­es, dan­gers, com­pli­cat­ed sit­u­a­tions like only dreams can invent. This morn­ing, I com­fort­ed a friend on the Inter­net who told me he was anx­ious : dif­fi­cult fam­i­ly sit­u­a­tion, abroad, upcom­ing exams, etc. I under­stood his anguish, gen­er­ous­ly wrote reas­sur­ing words to him, that he should not wor­ry, that life always goes on beyond our worst fears. He thanked me.

Our draw­ers are full of these prob­lems that we often cre­ate our­selves. I, the artist, am prob­a­bly the first to shov­el from the front and then, one day, I pull myself togeth­er and mil­i­ta­rize my thoughts, reg­i­ment courage. That same friend asked me if I was hap­py. I told him yes : I am loved, I love what I do ; I don’t need so much courage to do things because I don’t feel com­pelled to do them.

My only secret appre­hen­sion remains Les Mailles san­guines. I am now in the first third of the revi­sion. My edi­tor has gone on vaca­tion, and I won’t have any new pages to cor­rect for anoth­er month, I think. But until then, do I have some­thing to announce to the world ?

Let’s put it in a draw­er. I’ll clean up a lit­tle lat­er. I must, first of all, put my finances in order, eter­nal start­ing over.