The first year, we go full steam ahead at the speed of a snail. We don’t dribble too much. It’s more like we salivate with a malicious pleasure: the pleasure of discovering oneself. Showing oneself to others and discovering oneself. What does this convoluted, complicated, overornate sentence mean? That every Read more…
When I was a child from 5 to 10 years old (1948-1953), my mother said I was turbulent; my father, more scientific (general practitioner), used the word intractable; an untamed being, a savage. To put manners on me, he had dug up from old popular wisdom the idea of prison, and Read more…
My school works very well. Its secret? The quality of its teachers and the administration which is led by my wife, Michiko Miyazaki Gaulier, with a Japanese masterful hand. When a journalist, short of ideas, asks if in the course of fifty years I’ve often changed my ideas, I reply: Read more…
Memory stores at random recollections of people we have known or encountered, loved or hated, the colour of skins, the smells. They are all arranged in the sections of our souvenir album of the dead. They don’t help our fantasies: they are their reference points. I am not talking about Read more…
