Parlons de ce que nous laisse ce voyage. Un souvenir, une pensée, une image, des mots qui résistent à l'oubli! Parlons de cette vie là, qui se vit et qui sévit! une vie qui passe encore et encore et puis qui s'arrête pour toujours!
“The dead do not speak,” they tell me, But it’s the living who murmur the words left hanging, The living, these cemeteries without tombstones. Since you left, you’ve taken up residence in my young graveyard. You, who were the cement, so loving, so alive. Once, you told me this story,
He closed his eyes without giving the address of his new home, without guaranteeing that he would talk with us, he closed his eyes, to let us open them otherwise! Death, whether one accepts it or curses it is an obligatory passage! An end that marks, A last page that closes the end of the book.
Knock while there's still time. I'll open it. Photo taken in Vendée 2019. Today it's so easy to write” rest in peace” than to write “how are you?” It's so easy to find kind words in front of a grave than to give a letter of recommendation! It's so much easier to find time …