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Fish Change Direction in Cold Weather. Pierre Szalowski
Читать онлайн.Название Fish Change Direction in Cold Weather
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9780857868886
Автор произведения Pierre Szalowski
Жанр Контркультура
Издательство Ingram
Published in Great Britain in 2013 by Canongate Books Ltd,
14 High Street, Edinburgh EH1 1TE
This digital edition first published in 2013 by Canongate Books
Copyright © Pierre Szalowski, 2007
Avec l’accord des Éditions Hurtubise. Tout droit réservés.
Translation copyright © Alison Anderson, 2012
The moral rights of the author and translator have been asserted
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available on request from the British Library
ISBN 978 0 85786 162 7
eISBN 978 0 85786 888 6
Typeset in Plantin Light by Palimpsest Book Production Ltd, Falkirk, Stirlingshire
For Antoni, Tom, Sophie. For yesterday, today and always.
‘In life, there is nothing to fear and everything to understand.’
Marie Curie
Contents
FISH CHANGE DIRECTION IN COLD WEATHER
AND I PRAYED TO THE SKY TO HELP ME
BÉBÉ . . . JE T’AI, TOI, BÉBÉ . . .
YOUR PROBLEMS CAN’T BE THAT BAD
WHEN SHIT HAPPENS, HUMAN NATURE SHOWS ITS TRUE FACE
I COULDN’T THINK OF ANYTHING BETTER TO DO
IN LIFE, IT’S EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF
WHAT ON EARTH WAS THE SKY UP TO NOW?
CAN THINGS LIKE THIS REALLY HAPPEN?
WHAT A BEAUTIFUL THING, A MAN WHO SAYS HE’LL BE BACK
NO ONE CAN UNDERSTAND EVERYTHING
SOMETIMES LIFE IS JUST LIKE THE MOVIES
IT’S ALL THANKS TO A NATURAL DISASTER!
I DIDN’T PUT ANY MORE LOGS ON THE FIRE
IS THERE ANYTHING MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN LOVE?
Nowhere and everywhere in Montreal
Thursday, 25 December 1997
CHRISTMAS GOES BY SO FAST
‘Wait a little longer. Your dad’s asleep.’
The clock said nine nineteen. I went and sat back down on the bed. I’d already been awake for two hours, waiting in my room. We have this family tradition. Every year Dad orders me not to show my face until after Santa Claus has come and gone. But I’m eleven years old and I stopped believing in Santa Claus five years ago already!
Five years, that’s a secret; my parents think it’s four.
I was six and a half when Alex, my only friend, came and told me the sad news with a big smile on his face. I was suddenly thrust into a world where there was an explanation for everything. To get over my disappointment, I did the same thing as Alex, at school. I got a kick out of telling the younger kids that Santa Claus was just something our parents made up. At home I dropped a few remarks to try and make Mum and Dad understand that it was about time they stopped telling me that if I wasn’t