an american day ..........1957... Souvenir de colo.

When I was a little child at summer camp in Cannes, I was left with a memory, the day we saw a moor giant aircraft carrier in the bay of Cannes. His name was Independence. He was a giant of the seas. One morning we were loaded on small boats. Who came to cling to the belly of the airship of the seas. We were in 1957. It was an unforgettable day. Also a great American, in proportion, that his aircraft carrier took me to his Care, and made me visit his floating island. Elevators took us deep into his belly of steel between the bombs and dead air removed. Mechanics howled with laughter and he swung the gates, e guy you'll give him the breast? . I do not know if he had been punished or if it was voluntary as part of a program of Franco-American friendship between the giants and children. But the great sailor had become a great friend to the end of the day. He introduced me to a number of things completely unknown in my country, the self service canteen American, with its grated carrots with honey, jam and milk grenadine, and a delicious thing I had ever tasted, ice or the sorbet will with the automatic machine that swallowed coins, and you returned a good half liter of product, something that I stuck in neurons and language, as the memories that are related to taste (hello Mr Proust). But more than the taste I remember clinging to the vibrations that roamed the ship and this kind of music of freedom, which gave a diffuse noise immediately want to explore. At one point I suddenly had to pee. I managed to make me understand the great sailor and took me by the hand. We descended a staircase of iron, and led into a room as big as a volleyball court. There were dozens of bidets aligned without any separation. Giants defecated without the slightest embarrassment while reading the newspaper. I swallowed my saliva and close the valves. We're back on deck. A gob set this unforgettable moment with a camera of a kind alien to us bestowed in the minute of a photo I kept thinking as a long memory. He had sat in the cokpikt a hunter. I re-embarked in tears and I passed on his great sailor bob that I lost since, as the photo. God that the day was beautiful. And slept until morning, thinking I had dreamed.


Posts les plus consultés de ce blog

petroli e democracia

Encara una nuèch

poèta occitan