Pétales : Et autres histoires embarrassantes"Over the years I heard all sorts of opinions about veritable solitude. It was a recurring theme at family dinners. The kind of conversation in which it isn't proper to express a sincere opinion about the news or moral questions, because you would most likely end up in the prodigious tumors of misunderstanding. Certain people, especially those already on the slope of old age, speak of veritable solitude like an austere spider web that we construct over time. But there are also some who speak of it as a privileged and capricious place where the rules for admission are more or less arbitrary.
"When I forget to be prudent in the midst of all this chatter, among so many eye glasses, so many mouth noises of aunts with make-up covered faces, and a child who stretches a filthy hand to reach a cookie in a small container, I defend this last definition because I remember, not without some nostalgia, that I myself was looking for this paradise when I was fifteen years old. In my opinion, the only inhabitant of the veritable solitude should be a young girl, full of shame, her little pointy breasts, like the nipples on a family dog, her body too big for her clothing and too flat for her swimming suit."
