Crafty Carls Crabmania

The Marine de Loire (Th BONNETAT)


Each autumn holidays, I'm traveling.

EXPLORE vast land of my grandfather on the island in front of his house.
It is hidden between the Purple and the Loire, behind a curtain of poplars.
his side I'm Robinson Crusoe or Captain Hatteras.
We take the flat file that the green water above the sand tub and hop it's arrival.
Whenever he walks the square of earth is the New World is rising to it.
Frogs and nature, a flock of birds and the wind mostly at the peak of birch.
Then he unfolds his sharp knife in the ground.
And chewed raw onion to starboard.

Him, the silence and me, we all three bears together. It works similarly
without opening the mouth stretched to the same secret.

But I'm much more curious and, one day, I know.

long time now, I set off with his right arm and thick.
This funny drawing.
I imagined and I would love to see it up close, touch the features at your fingertips. The drawing will take
relief and I know that. It becomes something that I have seen anywhere.
I lip on the issue of child and every time I'm afraid to shake his peace, I can no longer accompany the ballad.
I keep his silence.

"Grandpa takes me ..." I want to show him
I'm not a farm boy school garden.
But a worthy grand-son of an adventurer who never speak.

In her kitchen, I often ate the light "Lamotte Piquet" hung above the door, next to the Comtoise.
I ate dozens and dozens of meals and wondered how to plow the ocean. But darkness descended
always on his meal. Nothing was ready to talk about.
I emerged hungry, deprived of all the answers to my questions.
When you're small, it is clear that the old are trying to forget history and throughout history. They
erase. But
there he could not.
was marked with indelible ink.

I was doing sketches, drawings in vain on sheets of scrap quickly hidden from the tattoo Chinese blue and imagined:
anchor who said the crossing of the Atlantic, the dragon
for the stopover in China or back of the turtle to cross the Equator
But mostly it's a three-masted ship in full sail to pass the Cape Horn and I resumed scribbling incessantly.
He had to make a long voyage.
Sure. The boat is apparent one day to browse the memory of Grandpa.
And then he told me. At

strength, even when I became impatient. He must have known what it was like a child, although this too I was wondering if he had cleared. Yes, I wondered if he had cleared.

is the last day of vacation that doubt has been installed.

I first thought lost some petals had fallen on his arm. It was not spring yet.

After dinner he fell asleep by the fireplace, sleeves rolled up.
was time to go closer to see. Do
remained to follow the contour.
On the skin opened, pierced by a dagger, a A RED ROSE pink ... and ... detached, in black ink, a first floating HELEN E.

I saw the two leaping round eyes of my late grandmother, her protector sheets and hush-the-small-listening-to-door.

was the end of the trip.

Finish Around the World.
Silence. Not
move.
Getting very, very light. In
apnea.
Keep your breath.
At the bottom of the hold.

Secrets.

Teresa BONNETAT
-November 15, 2009 -