The Dance of the Giants

I was the smallest of my family, both in age and size. I nevertheless survived better than most of its members. Later, my revolt against both the social order which was foisted on me and the society that was proposed to me made me submit any order of grandeur, whether implicit or explicit, to a preliminary critical examination. The latter was measured by rather frustrated moral, aesthetic or sentimental values but I had thus reduced the scale of magnitudes to my measurement.

June 3, 2018, in Olot, Catalonia, I participated in the dance of the giants. We walked in the streets and danced to the sound of fanfare and music. Applause and cheers greeted us and children dressed up to look like us. But that day, a man was filming us. As I watched him, I imagined my image on the video screen, reduced to a postcard, a memory of another time. I wavered at the idea of ​​this other reality; what was I really in the world? This mental shock was unfortunately synchronous with the rest that my bearers agreed upon from time to time: I was twice grounded. But they lifted me up and I was able to pursue my destiny, going back to the sun, the burrow of Alice’s images and wonders. And my lover would still dance with me.

Saint Cyprien, June 6 2018