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Route of childhood
It is in Nantes that I was born by beautiful an afternoon from June 1961. My father after several turns of the world, in stopover on the edges of the Loire, decided to pose his bundle. He found woman, children and firm ground. I thus grown in the middle of brothers, sisters, cousins, cousins, uncles and aunts, the great family what! My elder being boys, it is quite naturally that they followed the way of the father. They engaged in their turn in the Royal one. I remember this blue sphere with which my mother of the end of the finger showed us their courses. And of the magic, mysterious words sounded with our ears: Diego Suarez, Hokkaido, Fiji islands, the Cap Verde, PAPEETE, Marchionesses… And this enamelled iron trunk until we wait impatiently. Magic moment that that where our brothers authorized us to open it. It contained fabulous treasures come from remote countries: headstocks with the dye chechmate and the coloured dresses, collars, shells, shawls Indians… I left then in my turn to the other end the world, towards all these mysterious regions. On our premises they was the men who travelled also I found a means of leaving in my turn thanks to paper and the pencil. While growing I forsook little by little these escapes. I closed again the large green trunk slowly and gave up it with the attic family. It is only well later that I reopened it. A brush had slipped between my fingers. Such my father, such my brothers, I took again my bundle and embarked on the first come fabric. The fever of the trips had just grabbed me again. Since each frame is a new port, a new stopover…
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