Pontaillac, April 1986

« She will be happy, your mother teacher …”
Poor pathetic asshole, if she was a garbage collector, she would be “happy” too.

When I unfairly felt the weight of kohl on my eyelids, of leather on my shoulders, of docs at my feet; they ended up bringing me back home. To cum like bastards from my parents’ shock.
A few days earlier however, I had managed to slip “Tinderbox” under my clothes. I thought I was in this New Order clip, “Temptation”; where the girl builds her universe around her, her feminity ; in a movie going from black and white to colors; with all the things she stole on the way home.
The annoyment is that a thing named “reality” always ends up grabbing you badly by the shoulder. And the reality was that acrid breath of a supermarket security guard.

And there we were, an endless evening of disappointment’s sighs , with its procession of speeches about betrayed family honor, and the need for atoning shame. I said nothing, I went to my room, to hide “Tinderbox”and listen to “Black Celebration”. I liked getting lost in this ice tower; imagine the depths of it, push the door of his cellars; which opened at the back on one of these thin woods of city. And feel the anemic grass under my back, where  the loss of so much innocences had been probably played.

Greta came to France in her turn, Colin succeeded his interview for Berlin’s translation school; Virgil and Alb met us by car one day on the beach on Easter break, and they all found an Eponine in contradiction with the clarity of spring.

Diane was there also, and a group of german pals, who had taken it into their head to bathe, when the ocean was barely 16 degrees. Virgile ran after them in the sea, Diane screaming in his arms.
Alb took me by the hand.
“ Shall we be insane too?”
We came out of the water completely blue, but laughing out loud, with the impression of being covered with new blood; while Colin called us crazy.

Alb and Virgile would have dinner at home, on the terrace, before driving south to Maubuisson near Bordeaux.
Dear mum had prepared many mixed salads and we sat where we could at different tables, because there were many of us, and among all these people; Edouard and his doll, who automatically seated themselves at Diane’s, Greta’s and the pals’ table where I am also.
Colin, Capucine and Virgile found place near the house with dad and mum ; but there was no chair for Alb.

“ Come with us , otherwise Eponine will feel lonely !” Edouard shouted at him.

During all this period, I had forgotten the danger he represented. Colin had officially just escaped from the Parisian surveillance he had elaborated for him. And he couldn’t say much, parents were rather proud of his “tour de force”.
However nothing showed through Edouard’s terrible frustration; if not an unusual pallor of complexion…
“ But sure, I’m coming”

And now came cheerfully to us the boy who took Colin so easily from him, with much of the ascendancy he had over us all; and on whom no one would have bet anything on the start.
He likes to hurt himself, Edouard; because in an instant the embarrassment of his presence dissipated at our table.
Stealthily, Alb ruffled me with one hand and whispered
“It’s okay, Lark, you just won’t do it anymore.”
I blushed, noticing Edouard was looking at us, while all the others did not care; all to the joy of this shared moment.

What Edouard could well have understood? Himself took a detached tone in the conversation, stimulated and annoyed no doubt by the one who turned out to be something other than a moron from La Rochelle’s slums, with repartee, culture, a lot of spiritual traits.
Alb seemed to enjoy the trouble he caused him, I couldn’t explain it to myself otherwise; and as we shared a huge cup of ice cream, Edouard was still looking at us.

A Question Of Lust

Pontaillac, March 1986

«  Don’t worry bro, he’s certainly freezing his own balls on the mountain , while we have near 20°c tonight on this terrace …
– Precisely, I would love him to be here and enjoy the exceptional sweetness of weather. But he may not care, sun shined brightly in the Alps today.
– What’s going on Colin? You seem so sad. Is it because of yesterday afternoon, when dad caught you wearing this silver crop top?
– No, I piss them all off. He helped me for that, he helped me finding my way to escape them next year. But I wanted him to share the travel with me.
– And Simon?
– Sorry for him, but you can’t longer enjoy an ordinary wine when you’ve tasted a Chasse-Spleen
– He wouldn’t like you being desperate and emphatic like that, bro.”

Colin looks at me deeply. Maybe I’m farer from him on this soft falling night. I ‘d like to help him, but it’s impossible for me to have bad thoughts on Alban now. And it doesn’t fit with this moment we have both outside, brother and sister, with the lazy wind and the rising stars; and the radio sizzling in the open kitchen.

“ You know him better than me, don’t you sister?
– Nobody knows him, I think. But this mystery hasn’t got the right to spoil the holiday evening we have together … there may not be many more. It’s nice out, maybe nature is beckoning us to let simply go…
– You know him. You talk like him. But you’re right. “

At this point, the sound of our radio becomes clearer. They have a great announce to make. Their LP is out , on sale, and here’s the host’s favorite track by Depeche Mode.
I jump on my feet.

“ Oh, your Walkman again? Going to have an artisanal recording which you alone have the key?”

But we have to keep it , bro. You don’t know yet that it will be priceless.
Heavy sounds hit the spring air which still stammers, little by little they form a difficult melody by repeating; and the voice that emerges is not what we expected

There’s so much tenderness and supplication in the words we catch
be gentle
never willingly do you harm
my weaknesses, you know each and everyone

And most of all
Independence, is still important for us though …

Is it there the freshness of a winter which tries to take back its rights on the night?
We’re standing in each other’s arms , voiceless and suddenly transfixed.

What is this for a song? Not a slow, not a ballad, nor a damn romance.
It weeps gently , but it strikes also ; and it talks about us all , about all that far from false noise can shape and consolidate what really matters between two people ; desire, loyalty , despite the whim that governs and constantly threatens human relationships .
 And the heavy sounds of the beginning, that resonated in the background , they beat again louder in the end , obstinately, as if no end, no night could erase them anymore.