Sand & Light

( Photo by Benoît Jenouvrier)

In the light of Cordouan, end of october 1985

Indian summer’s light flows through the 4L windows, as Colin and I drive back from Royan, where we brought Diane and David home.
Me and my brother, finally, in a brief moment of freedom before all the questions parents will have for us.

But we are not the type to waste a twilight hour like this. Summer ventures so far in october this year, we stop on the beach, it would be a crime not to do so.
It’s as if in ten years we haven’t changed, we run screaming on the shore; the wind flapping in our clothes, we roll on the sand that goes into our ears and nostrils; with the sea fleas that jump in our sleeves, and the song of seagulls that turns triumphantly above our heads.

Then we seat side by side, to see the stars raising from the silver skyline on the sea. Colin lights a cigarette.

“ Give me one, I’m tired of being ridiculous”
But this time again it ends with a big coughing fit.

“Don’t worry, you have plenty of time to get intoxicated like us … You don’t need that to be someone.
– I’m just glad to seat here with you; now that you have escaped this asshole.
– It’s thanks to you. If you had not called Alban I don’t know where I would be running away now. And it was so simple in fact; friendship did it.
– Wasn’t it more than friendship? I ask , trying to take a puff again , my head on his shoulder.
– There’ll be nothing more than yesterday’s night; he’s an independent, and I’ve got Simon who doesn’t have to know… But you, Epo, with all these letters, what’s going on with him?
– Nothing more … He’s like you, bro !
– Listen to me and never trust soft blondies with sad puppy-dog eyes …”

I try to turn my neck to see if he’s serious, but all the smoke that I made is falling in my eyes. And he laughs.

“ Of course you can trust him ! Despite the life he leads with Virgile, the guy has principles. I wouldn’t say the same about the second …
– But Virgile helped you also; wasn’t it enough for you to become friends?
– It will never happen. You see, Capucine came to Alban’s. She always knew the pressure that Edouard put on me; for the studies, for the piano, for all the projects he had to mold me with the blessing of my own father. She didn’t know the guys before yesterday. Alb welcomed her like a sister, but Virgile couldn’t help banging her…”

Obviously it was a bit abusive on his part, but I think that Capucine is not a fierce girl; that Alban and Colin were doing exactly the same in the next room this night, and I wonder why my brother has such selective indignations…

But no matter.
We are so well there, on the beach; with the humidity of the evening, the sea breeze that make us shiver a little, the halo of Cordouan’s lighthouse slowly caressing our silhouettes on the sand.
I don’t want to debate endlessly. I will eventually understand, one day.

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