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Published in March 2015
Š Editions HOPE www.katy-danjou.com www.editions-hope.com
Translated from the French by Katy Danjou & Gail Malacan
T
his little girl is sitting on the step of this house. The old woman looked at her with that air of contempt, at least that’s what she feels. She doesn’t like her inquisitive eyes that auscultate each move she did. She feels some discomfort. She doesn’t look back, doesn’t want to cross her so cold gaze. She is sad as too often without being able to explain it if not all of these gazes on her, these whispers, and these discussions in a low voice when she approaches... To forget, she twirls the stick on this earth forming this circle that raises the dust. She starts slowly and gradually to accelerate the movement. The trace of the circle is drawn more and more deeply. This movement soothes her inside. Gradually, she dives into this Out there in which she takes refuge constantly to escape the cruel reality. The wind finally spins. Her little bruised body shudders... The Majestic as she called finally comes. She is fascinated by his surge, the deployment of his wings, his elegance, his color, this bluish black and this cry, this cawing tearing heaven. What’s the most fun: it’s scary to adults. She follows his surge with her eyes admiring this freedom. She has the feeling he is talking to her. She floats, spins, smiles inwardly by the sound of the wind whispers which rush into her. All these whispers told her all these fantastic stories of yore. Then she is unique, free, and strong. This sweet light that gradually penetrates her takes her away so far. All surrounds her become futile... 5
Only a man surprises her secret surges. She jumps shrugs. The man has always this kind gaze on her. The man smiled at her. His face seems to be closer to her while he is confined to his bed... She heard his whisper: “Don’t be afraid, little wounded bird, you’re not alone, you’ll never be alone, we are with you, always have confidence, listen to the breath of the wind...” She turns round, met his gaze, and lowers her head. Intense heat invades her body. She doesn’t understand, and yet, she closes her eyes so that all his words are engraved in her. They become farandoles, sweet music... The earth seems to open leaving source to flow smoothly under her feet. She sees all these faces, these children laughter. She follows the path of Light letting her submerged in this breath of the wind. The whispers lead her in this forest. The trees seem to bow before her. Leaves rustle. Her hair is swept away by this breath of the wind. She can run with all these kids... She sees the man who strides along the rocky slopes of this barren land. He extends her his hand. She follows him, confident. He tells her this Nature. She hangs onto his each word. The man’s voice fascinated her. The tone of his gravelly voice soothes her, reassures her. His laughter echoes on the hill. Stones answer him in this echo as if he awakened this arid Nature. She shivers. Her whole being is flooded with a thousand sensations so painful, so soothing. All her senses awake. This warmth cross her, submerge her... 6
They are on the peak. All which is below is suddenly so small. All becomes so insignificant, futile against this force that unfolds before her eyes. He has in his hand a strange stick which suddenly vibrates. He kneels, puts his ear on the ground... He whispers: “Do as I do...” She feels the vibrations from the bowels of the Earth that pulls up in her, fully penetrate her. She hears her sweet lullaby. She melts into the eyes of this man who smiled at her. His smile is soft, bright. It illuminates the features of his face hardened by the daily grind. A white light surrounds her gradually. Her eyes are translucent. She is marveled... She seeks in her this particular word that would describe this time: “Magical”... He digs the earth. Water arises: “You see, its magic, the magic of Mother Nature ”. He laughed so hard that all trembles. He gets up, opens his arms, sniffing the breath of the wind that envelops him. He takes her little hands. They swirl together. All evaporates its pains, sorrows, doubts, fears. She lets herself be drawn into this crazy round which takes her away. She laughed too. Her tears flow so delicious then fly away in this breath of the wind. She feels this intense peace... The man kneels down, lays his hands on her shoulders: “My little wounded bird, you will know 7
what to do at the right time, don’t fear, I will always be there and when you are sad, remember this breath of the wind... The world won’t understand, he will reject you, will show you to the finger, will hurt you, anyway, observe it, follows what is in you. You will stride along this path of solitude as we all did but you’ll deliver it to the world when the time comes. Listen to the breath of the wind and you’ll relay in your turn to the one will come...” All became dark. Her body froze... The Thing awoke her from its torpor: “Still daydreaming, mmmh, my poor child, come on, let’s go...” The Thing pulled her by the arm bluntly which destabilized her. Tears came in her. They formed this ball deep in her bowels, ball so painful... She kept all this treasure in the secret of his heart...
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