I grew up in a house where not all the furniture is turned toward the television. There’s this room under the stairs that leads to the bathroom.The TV is placed there.There’s also an old sofa, which my mother had in her first apartment, when she was still considered a Parisian. It’s green, and the sides have fallen victim to three generations of cats, the last of which, aged 19, continues to scratch the poor sides of this lifeless couch.The television is not the best, it’s quite old, my father bought it when, after probably having the last one for too long, he decreed that it was worth a good quality television for a bad quality soccer.

I only watch the animated programs in the morning before I go to school. I sit on the left side of the couch, the angle for watching TV is best there. With my left hand, I tickle the scratched sides.

It’s 7:30 in the morning, my sister and I are sitting next to each other, neither of us really paying attention to the screaming screen.

It’s 7:30 a.m., the game begins. We take all the cushions out of the green couch and spread them out on the floor.

There are three of them;

It is not enough.

We take those on which we were lying,

Now six shapes appear,

The ground becomes water.

The distance between the couch and the bathroom door is about 4 meters, which means that to get there we have to jump.

The water is choppy,

Crocodiles are coming out,

The surface is not reassuring;

One toe in and it’s over,

A dramatic death,

devoured by so-called crocodiles.

Fruits of our imagination, not described to the outside world, But we know how dangerous they are and that’s what counts.

It is 7:55 am, we have to go to school. Ornella and I didn’t die this time, but it was very close.

On weekends, we go to the mountains. I grew up with the luxury of living in two different places.

My parents bought an old ruin on the south side of the mountain. At more than 1000 m above sea level, which means that there is snow in winter, it melts with the first sun, it is hot in summer. Enough for my mother to get sunburned with the shape of her hand sleeping on her belly.

The house is surrounded by all kinds of pine trees.

When you walk up from the house, you come to a small path. It is used by climbers in the summer, deer and roe deer in the winter.

The path leads to an old shepherd’s house, built in stones. The structure is made of wood, and on one of the beams at the bottom of the only room, is engraved 1863, and a name. The name of the builder, the family, the owner or all three at the same time.

From this house, we are very close to the torrent. A strong current in spring, due to the melting snow. Almost empty in winter. And on the banks of this torrent, I spend most of my time.

The rocks are as if placed there by the giants, polished by the elves, organized by the hobbits. They create, by themsel- ves, the perfect living room.

Gigantic sofas, shaped for the body to sink into, all facing an innumerable amount of television sets. Documentaries on landscapes in front of which one sits and observes, one falls asleep perhaps.

The path leads to an old shepherd’s house, built in stones. The structure is made of wood, and on one of the beams at the bottom of the only room, is engraved 1863, and a name. The name of the builder, the family, the owner or all three at the same time.

From this house, we are very close to the torrent. A strong current in spring, due to the melting snow. Almost empty in winter. And on the banks of this torrent, I spend most of my time.

The rocks are as if placed there by the giants, polished by the elves, organized by the hobbits. They create, by themsel- ves, the perfect living room.

Gigantic sofas, shaped for the body to sink into, all facing an innumerable amount of television sets. Documentaries on landscapes in front of which one sits and observes, one falls asleep perhaps.

When we return to Marseille, we pass in front of the sea. It is Sunday evening, the sun is very low. It is like entering a new world.The lights have changed;

The sky instantly soothes every ounce of anger,or at least that’s how I feel,

But it’s also because I’m not very angry as a person, Unfortunately, the sun doesn’t solve all the problems, But if everyone would focus on the light and the atmosphere,

A captivating atmosphere,

Well, they’d be focused on their own comfort and not on the discomfort of others.

In Marseille, when a baby is born, they are first shown the sun (if it’s daytime, and if it’s sunny; I was born on a rainy day on January 4, I didn’t look any further to find out why I had no resistance to the sun),

and then they are given a sip of Pastis, the holy water of Marseille and its surroundings. If you’ve never drunk it, every person you meet here will look at you with the eyes of a fried fish (as we say in the south).

It makes people grow up with an extreme tolerance for pas- tis but most of all with a constant desire to get in the sun. You go to the beach and it’s pretty easy to tell the tanning professionals from the beginners.The ones who have been there since the beginning have brown skin like leather, as if it was wrinkled on purpose and ironed over.

It’s like paper mache,

it smells like cow fat

it looks like sardines in oil.

They walk the rock, they look for their spot for the day.

It has to be: 

Not too far from the water, 3 to 4 steps is a good average. Not in the way of others,

On a fairly flat rock. They come with a foldable mattress, they put it on the rock and put a towel over it.

The towel absorbs most of the moisture and oil, the mattress stays clean.

Marseille is the sofa with a view of several generations