Published on 04.07.2022
Estimated reading time: 1 minute
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I never thought I would write it one day: everything is lost! I’m not talking to you regarding my keys, the daily cross of my filthy giddiness. I’m talking to you regarding these traditions which, over time and our lives at a hundred miles an hour, pass from life to death without us necessarily realizing it. Imagine that, at first, I saw nothing but fire. Or have I turned a deaf ear to it? However, for twenty years I have seen her in the editorial hall, this dear who, every morning, rang the start of the briefing in anticipation of the next day’s newspaper. This bell, what am I saying, this toupin, we had the nerve to reduce it to silence. It’s been several months already… And I, who only realized this quite recently when, imagining myself being late, I asked if the bell for high mass in the morning had already rung. This heartbreak when I was told: “We no longer ring the bell for the briefings, everyone knows that it starts at 9:30 am.” I don’t know if there is something wrong. M
