🖋️ “At our feet lies a narrow, golden beach, still damp, nestled between rocks pierced and re-pierced by the…
Translated from French.
🖋️ “At our feet lies a narrow, golden beach, still damp, nestled between rocks eroded time and again by the waves, their bases lined with a blue band of tightly packed little mussels. Further on, the sea is ebbing at this hour, revealing bare, horn-shaped rocks. As far as the eye can see, there is not a single detail to mar or debase this Breton landscape: not a storm in the sky, not a tuft of seaweed nor a fringe of wreckage at the water’s edge, not a single house on the coast, save for this one, Jean’s, grey and low-slung, nestled between a sparse wood, a carpet of red geraniums and a barren meadow sloping down to the beach, dotted with wild roses, dry, fragrant pink carnations and gorse through which the wind whistles.
It is a priceless place, right on the edge of the land from which it seems to be fleeing, sheltered from the sea, and eroded at its own whim. The high tide wears it away until all that remains is a narrow lace-like strip of sand, rocks and greenery, then, as it recedes, it yields an unstable realm of beaches, reefs that never dry out, and tiny, teeming pools whose bitter water quivers ceaselessly, probed by the claws of crabs and lobsters, and the swipes of the tails of prawns and rockfish.
(…) and finally Jean himself, proud of my amazement, gentle and half-naked like a faun… every day, he would walk down towards the sea, adored by my gaze, and his stride would cast, across his lower back, the shimmering shadows of that muscular, magnificent ‘V’ shape one sees in beautiful statues.”
If you’re wondering how to spell “the celebration of the world” 🙌🏻✨, apart from “Sido” and “Les Vrilles de la vigne” in Colette’s work.
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