Narrative 9

The marriage of M. with L.
I remember the wedding of M. and L. when I was a teenager. I was told that I served Mass during the marriage, but I don’t remember at all. In fact, what I remember is a very traumatic time after the wedding, right before the banquet...

Just before the guests came down to the reception hall in the basement of the church, my sister and I were already there alone, expecting Mom to join us shortly.

Instead a relative of L. arrived and suddenly was very aggressive towards us shouting and screaming. For no reason at all! I still remember the intense fear that gripped me all over my body. (Thirty years later my sister and I still have shivers when we look back ...) We then went outside trembling from head to toes.

When Mom arrived we watched her go into the reception hall alone to face the weirdo. I was fearful for her. But in my heart I knew Mom would save and protect us...

I'd never been aware until now of all the self-assuredness I saw in Mom. Because I knew deep down that she would never be afraid to stand up for me no matter what. She gave me a great proof of her love then. Which I never realized...

Narrative 3

I remember after my Saturday evening big weekly bath, my mother making me an neapolitan ice cream cone and then going to the living room watching Thierry la Fronde (The King's Outlaw) and then Hockey Night, with dad in his armchair and mom on the sofa and me right in front of the TV, sitting on the cold floor.

I was three.

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I remember having a terrible fit because my parents went out to the movies, a weekend, and hitting with all my strengths my red plastic boat on the front door, and shouting, howling, crying to show my anger in front of my babysitter totally helpless. Suddenly, I stopped everything and I noticed dozens of red marks which I had made on the door and then I was afraid I’ll be punished.

I was around two.

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I remember vaguely my little sister sleeping in her crib in my parents’ bedroom.

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I remember being five when I heard that our neighbor, Mrs. Tardy, woke up one morning and her husband, sleeping next to her, was dead. Not knowing it, she slept with a dead body next to her all night. This really traumatized me, upset me. A lot. I don’t know why…

This n' that 3

Emend my habit, when I'm trying to guess what the other one feels… while he speaks!

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When I have a shock, I always want to return to the state where I was feeling good.

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My defects:
1) Anxious 2) Timid 3) Lazy 4) Fearful 5) Stubborn 6) Chaotic 7) Pouty

8) Perfectionist 9) Obsessive 10) Untamed 11) Shy

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A son asks her mother: What’s death?
The mother answers: It’s like going to sleep and never waking up.
The boy reply: I shall never die; you wake me up every morning at 7!

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I was born fists closed, and I will die hands open...

Narrative 2

I remember the military parade at the top of the hill, on 1st Avenue, near the former Igloo, the ice cream counter. I was two years old.

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I remember around three, four years old, being at the cabin of a friend, who lived the neighboring house of mine, and trying to look through a hole, below the outhouse, where my friend had gone to the toilet, to see his booty!

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I remember, also, squabbling with a friend and then running to catch him up, when he wanted to leave, angry, to apologise and when I got out of the house, I stumble on the threshold, which was, like, one and a half-inch thick, and although I tried to hang on to the door frame, I fell on the corner of a metal tank, which was upside down, that mom used to soak the linen in, and I split open my right eyebrow and the skin over my nose. I remember crying a lot, blood flowing like water on my face and my mother carrying me in her arms to daddy's big old truck. Then dad in turn carrying me in his arms up the hospital’s staircases instead of waiting for the elevator which was too long to come.

(It’s strange, but I can feel, right at this moment, how they must have been worried for me I’d lose my eye or I’d die. Twenty years later, maybe they would wish I die, after all…)

I remember the doctor putting a sheet over my head, with only one hole for my eye. I remember the needle entering in and out of my skin. I had the feeling that the hand of the doctor was entering along with the needle and going in and out of my head. I remember, later, sitting on our stairs outside the house, my friends coming to see me, and feeling almost proud to show them my stitches. I was about four, five years old.

Narrative


I was born October 2 at 6:55 in the morning.

In my childhood, I remember, when I played outside that my mother attached me with a kind of leather leash with a harness and with which I was attached to the outside bannister. I was between two and three years old.

This n' that

What's the strangest about this "re-conquest," it's that I change while being the same.

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At first, the person whom I made responsible for my blocking was my father. 

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Younger, I dreamed to be a professor or an archaeologist, and somebody important.

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I think that my creativity is the source of my soul.

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When I was a child, my father thought that my art, my creativity were useless. It triggered in me a feeling of anger. 

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I remember when he said to me, towards the end of my adolescence, that I would never be able to make a living as a artist. I felt very sad and angry. I have never forgotten this moment. (Ironically, this recollection is more and more vague today...)

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When I was a child, my mother taught me that dreams were impracticable. I remember that she always told me to snap out of it for my own good.