FAVU
On the country lane linking our hidden home at the entrance of the forest to the village of St-Martin-de-Gurçon, Mommy and I are walking. The golden hour is dazzling our skins. Hand in hand, eyes half- closed, we let ourselves be soothe by the chirping of crickets. Two years old and already a proven walker, I take the lead and Mommy watches me going further. The few muscles of a fleshy bambino sticking-out of his nappy draw on her face a tender smile. On my right begins the football pitch that is no longer used and Mommy keeps her caring observation, without never stopping me from moving forward. So I walk, I walk with the gait of a tot to whom every step gives an exciting breath.
All of a sudden, as if I have a presentiment of being tracked by an unknown form, I stop. Mommy’s attention is sharpened and she keeps watching me from afar. Keeping a close eye on the ground, my small body with my big head jumps up when I see my shadow move for the first time. The pout of my face seems to say “Who’s that ?”. Mommy is gazing, recording the action in her memory. Her smile keeps growing more and more from the amusing candour of a child. So I step back, still facing it when I realise that this strange black puddle is moving toward me, copying the rhythm of my footsteps. My face expression doesn’t seem to enjoy the prank, and upon examination of this shadow, I attempt a couple of strides on the side. A show that Mommy can not miss and coming by right next to me, always this smile on her face, she holds out her hand to me which I immediately grab, still watching my foe.
The stroll keeps going side by side, I won’t stop turning back until the end of the day, a behaviour that will put Mommy’s laughter on top of the chirping of crickets.