Up on the path the air was stoned, sweet, simple and liquid. I stopped. I looked down into the water, in its volcanic gouge. Its light became kind immediately. One bird flew on the blue surface. The water stirred slightly. I said to myself: “Look, it laughs.” I descended the slope. My feet woke up the stones that started downhill, jumping on top of each other as turbulent beings. The sun was there, above my head, also laughing. My heart was pounding. I was like a child going to take his gift.
    When I reached the shore, a bit of holy shyness stopped me. I was afraid to make noise. I had to fulfill a ritual and I felt lefty. I watched the grass that said to me: “Go, go, it's not important, it's just a game.” I sat, took a deep breath, submerged my head in water, slowly, and dared to open my eyes. On the bottom the sun was caressing the sand, the sand was sparking. Thanks to the agitation, millions of stars were born, died, were reborn elsewhere. As I was contemplating this, I suddenly felt very high, without questions, without hope, without fear, like a God over the universe. The water brought ocean noises to my years. For one moment I felt loving hands caressing my figure, neck, [more...]    Henri Gougaud