J\u2019\u00e9cris mes textes comme je cueillais jadis de petits fruits en \u00e9t\u00e9. Avec tellement de plaisir, j\u2019adorais en remplir un gros bol pour les offrir \u00e0 ma maman! R\u00e9jouie, elle nous pr\u00e9parait un beau renvers\u00e9 aux fruits pour le souper. J\u2019examine aujourd\u2019hui chaque mot de la m\u00eame fa\u00e7on que je choisissais chaque fraise ou framboise; je le palpe, le chouchoute, et le dorlote jusqu\u2019\u00e0 \u00eatre convaincue qu\u2019il m\u00e9rite sa place dans une phrase. J\u2019ai toujours aim\u00e9 noircir des pages et mordre dans de belles phrases qui me font r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir. J\u2019empile et j\u2019accumule les brouillons jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que l\u2019ouvrage commence \u00e0 mijoter.<\/p>\n
Par la fen\u00eatre ce matin, je contemple un ciel gris fonc\u00e9, morcel\u00e9 de gros nuages. D\u2019un coup, j\u2019ai l\u2019impression qu\u2019il avale tous les myst\u00e8res du vaste ciel\u00a0: Dieu, la maladie, la mort, la guerre, les tornades d\u00e9vastatrices, Bhopal, Tchernobyl et les assassinats gratuits un peu partout sur la plan\u00e8te. Quelquefois, je regarde vers la vo\u00fbte c\u00e9leste en me faisant croire qu\u2019il s\u2019agit d\u2019un immense foutoir d\u2019incompr\u00e9hension. Peut-\u00eatre suis-je fautive de penser ainsi. Ma caboche ressemble \u00e0 celle d\u2019une fourmi qui ne sait pas faire grand-chose sans sa colonie de vaillantes comparses.<\/p>\n
J\u2019essaie de me souvenir des vieux philosophes dont j\u2019ai \u00e9tudi\u00e9 les v\u00e9rit\u00e9s, mais ma t\u00eate s\u2019enlise dans les vastes champs de l\u2019oubli. Je me perds en conjectures et j\u2019attends que le ciel s\u2019\u00e9claircisse. Cela explique sans doute mon continuel recours \u00e0 la fantaisie, \u00e0 l\u2019imagination et aux immenses oiseaux f\u00e9eriques qui acceptent de promener mon corps au-dessus des oc\u00e9ans. \u00c0 l\u2019occasion, mes amies corneilles conversent avec moi, un aigle m\u2019envoie une lettre, un loup entre dans ma cuisine, et des grenouilles coassent pour m\u2019endormir.<\/p>\n
Ici-bas, dans ce monde tellement grand, je me dis qu\u2019il y a suffisamment de place pour que tous les humains puissent y vivre en paix. Pourtant, quelque part dans la t\u00eate des hommes belliqueux, il y a la guerre pour assouvir cet ardent d\u00e9sir de toujours agrandir leur territoire. Depuis que le monde est monde, ces soi-disant puissants seigneurs tuent pour contempler leurs possessions avec davantage d\u2019aisance. Jadis, on br\u00fblait des femmes qu\u2019on croyait des sorci\u00e8res et, aujourd\u2019hui, on continue \u00e0 les occire pour rien. O\u00f9 s\u2019en va le monde? Est-ce juste moi qui broie du noir? Est-ce l\u2019\u00e9cosyst\u00e8me qui se r\u00e9volte ou le progr\u00e8s qui perd la boule? Encore une de mes interrogations philosophiques pour laquelle je n\u2019ai pas la r\u00e9ponse. J\u2019ai juste des mots dans ma besace, des tonnes de mots \u00e0 vous lancer pour nous divertir.<\/p>\n
La vie peut \u00eatre longue et tortueuse, parsem\u00e9e de questions difficiles \u00e0 \u00e9lucider. Je vis dans une maison-biblioth\u00e8que qui contient des milliers de livres qui n\u2019offrent plus de r\u00e9ponses \u00e0 mes pr\u00e9occupations actuelles. J\u2019interroge souvent Google, qui est hyperconnaissant, mais sans \u00e2me. \u00c0 ce qu\u2019il para\u00eet, le futur de l\u2019intelligence artificielle sera dot\u00e9 de sentiments. O\u00f9 s\u2019en va le monde? Devrait-on consid\u00e9rer l\u2019intelligence artificielle comme une menace ou une occasion pour l\u2019humain? L\u2019IA deviendra-t-elle suffisamment brillante pour me pr\u00e9senter un jour l\u2019homme id\u00e9al? Une \u00e2me s\u0153ur pourvue d\u2019une intelligence compatible \u00e0 la mienne?<\/p>\n
Mon \u00e2me s\u0153ur, je pense bien l\u2019avoir d\u00e9j\u00e0 crois\u00e9e. En avril 2016, je visitais le pays du Soleil-Levant et j\u2019avais d\u00e9j\u00e0 photographi\u00e9 les cerisiers en fleurs, tous plus beaux les uns que les autres. J\u2019\u00e9tais \u00e9blouie! Puis la guide annon\u00e7a l\u2019activit\u00e9 du lendemain et nous promit un \u00e9blouissement sans pareil\u00a0: une for\u00eat de bambous. C\u2019est en route pour cette destination prometteuse que mon \u00e2me s\u0153ur s\u2019est approch\u00e9e de moi. Elle vivait dans le corps d\u2019un magnifique Japonais avec qui je me suis promen\u00e9e dans la for\u00eat de bambous g\u00e9ants d\u2019Arashiyama. Je m\u2019en souviens comme si je m\u2019y trouvais toujours!<\/p>\n
Dans l\u2019autocar, j\u2019\u00e9tais assise \u00e0 c\u00f4t\u00e9 de ce Japonais immens\u00e9ment beau. Je ne pouvais point l\u2019ignorer. Mon c\u0153ur sautillait tel un petit oiseau sur une branche de cerisier. Mes yeux voulaient s\u2019enraciner dans les siens. Nous traversions des campagnes et des villages dont les paysages devaient para\u00eetre \u00e9poustouflants aux autres voyageurs, mais je n\u2019avais d\u2019yeux que pour cet homme magnifique pr\u00e8s de moi. Il sentait si bon, son ar\u00f4me exotique \u00e9veillait tous mes sens. Ses mains demeuraient pos\u00e9es sur sa cuisse droite, l\u2019une sur l\u2019autre, comme en pri\u00e8re. J\u2019ai essay\u00e9 tant bien que mal d\u2019apercevoir son nom sur le porte-nom fix\u00e9 \u00e0 sa veste, sans succ\u00e8s. Puis, la guide annon\u00e7a que nous allions bient\u00f4t arriver \u00e0 destination. Le bel individu et moi \u00e9tions rest\u00e9s silencieux durant tout le trajet, quelque deux heures de soupirs d\u00e9boulant dans le vide cahoteux de mon c\u0153ur.<\/p>\n
L\u2019autocar s\u2019\u00e9tait arr\u00eat\u00e9 \u00e0 deux reprises et, chaque fois, l\u2019homme s\u2019\u00e9tait faufil\u00e9 devant moi et m\u2019avait tendu la main pour m\u2019aider \u00e0 en descendre. J\u2019osais \u00e0 peine le regarder tellement son visage m\u2019attirait, tellement sa ma\u00eetrise m\u2019envo\u00fbtait!
\nArriv\u00e9s \u00e0 la for\u00eat de bambous, on nous a servi, \u00e0 chacun d\u2019entre nous, une jolie bo\u00eete de sushis que nous avons d\u00e9gust\u00e9s en silence, lui et moi. Le moment de traverser la for\u00eat arriva et nous avancions \u00e0 pas de tortue, sans m\u00eame voir devant nous tellement nos yeux fixaient le ciel et les immenses fl\u00e8ches de bambous piquant tout droit dans le ventre des nuages. Mon c\u0153ur ronronnait de bonheur. Et voil\u00e0 que, pendant que je contemplais le d\u00e9licat bruissement de l\u2019air glissant entre les bambous, l\u2019homme disparut. Comme une plume emport\u00e9e par le vent, l\u2019espoir d\u2019un quelconque rapprochement s\u2019\u00e9vapora. S\u2019\u00e9tait-il enfui, perdu, cach\u00e9? Je me pose toujours la question.<\/p>\n
Lorsque la guide s\u2019approcha enfin de moi, elle pronon\u00e7a deux mots qui me r\u00e9v\u00e9l\u00e8rent le nom de mon charmant compagnon de voyage\u00a0: \u00ab\u00a0Watanabe\u00a0Isamu\u00a0\u00bb. J\u2019aurais voulu que cette rencontre ne soit qu\u2019un r\u00eave et que je puisse continuer de m\u2019y blottir. Mais il s\u2019agit d\u2019une histoire r\u00e9elle qui s\u2019est d\u00e9roul\u00e9e le 17\u00a0avril\u00a02016, \u00e0 l\u2019ouest de Kyoto, dans la bambouseraie d\u2019Arashiyama. Pendant ces quelques instants, j\u2019ai cru que j\u2019avais rencontr\u00e9 mon \u00e2me s\u0153ur. Assise \u00e0 ses c\u00f4t\u00e9s silencieusement pendant deux belles heures, j\u2019ai eu amplement le temps de m\u2019imaginer avec lui pour le reste de mes jours. Encore une fois, j\u2019ai permis \u00e0 la folle du logis de me fabriquer un bonheur \u00e9poustouflant, inimaginable; aussi magnifique que l\u2019aura de cet homme d\u2019un seul jour.<\/p>\n
Cora
\n\u2665\ufe0f<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
J\u2019\u00e9cris mes textes comme je cueillais jadis de petits fruits en \u00e9t\u00e9. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":414,"featured_media":79690,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[32],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-79689","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-lettre-mme-cora"],"acf":{"img_en":"","contenu_en":"I write my letters like I used to pick berries in the summer. I delighted in filling up a large bowl and offering them to Mom. She in turn took delight in baking us a delicious upside-down fruit cake for dinner. Today, I examine each word the same way I used to select each strawberry or raspberry; I touch it, pamper it and coddle it until I am convinced that it deserves a place in a sentence. I\u2019ve always loved darkening pages with words and sinking my teeth into a well-written sentence that makes me think. I gather the drafts in piles until my work starts to simmer.\r\n\r\nThis morning, I\u2019m contemplating a dark-grey sky, dotted with large clouds, through my window. Suddenly, I feel like it\u2019s swallowing all the mysteries of the vast sky: God, diseases, death, war, devastating tornadoes, Bhopal, Chernobyl and the senseless murders happening all across the planet. Sometimes, I look towards the celestial ceiling and make myself believe that it\u2019s one huge jumble of misunderstandings. Maybe I\u2019m wrong to think this way. My mind looks like an ant that doesn\u2019t know what to do alongside her capable colony workers.\r\n\r\nI try to remember the old philosophers whose truths I\u2019ve studied, but my head gets lost in the vast fields of forgetfulness. I get lost in conjectures and wait for the sky to clear up. This may explain my incessant need for fantasy, imagination and for the huge, magical birds that agree to carry my body over the oceans. Occasionally, my friends the crows strike up a conversation with me, an eagle sends me a letter, a wolf enters my kitchen and frogs croak to lull me to sleep.\r\n\r\nI tell myself that here on Earth, in this big world, there\u2019s enough room for all humans to live in peace. And yet, somewhere in the minds of belligerent men, war satisfies their burning desire to constantly expand their territory. For as long as the world has existed, these so-called powerful lords kill so they can enjoy their possessions in even greater luxury. They used to burn women they called witches and, today, we continue to eliminate them for no reason. Where is the world headed? Am I the only one who\u2019s feeling low? Is the ecosystem rebelling or is progress losing its mind? Another one of my philosophical questions for which I don\u2019t have an answer. I only have words in my bag, tons of words to offer you for entertainment.\r\n\r\nLife can be long and tortuous, sprinkled with questions that are hard to answer. I live in a library-house that contains thousands of books that no longer offer answers to my current worries. I often quiz Google, who\u2019s extremely knowledgeable but soulless. Apparently, the future of artificial intelligence will be equipped with emotions. Where is the world headed? Shall we consider AI like a menace or an opportunity for humankind? Will AI become sufficiently brilliant to introduce me to the man of my dreams one day? A soulmate endowed with an intelligence compatible with mine?\r\n\r\nI think I\u2019ve once crossed paths with my soulmate. In April 2016, I was visiting the country of the Rising Sun and I\u2019d already photographed the cherry trees in bloom, each one more beautiful than the other. I was dazzled! Then the guide announced our activity for the next day and promised us something more spectacular: a bamboo grove. While on route to this promising destination, I crossed paths with my soulmate. It lived in the body of a handsome Japanese man whom I walked through the Arashiyama giant bamboo grove with. I remember it as if I were still there!\r\n\r\nIn the tour bus, I was seated next to a tremendously gorgeous Japanese man. I couldn\u2019t ignore him. My heart jumped like a small bird on the branch of a cherry tree. My eyes wanted to take root in his. We crossed the countryside and villages, which must have seemed breathtaking to other travellers, but I only had eyes for the handsome man by my side. He smelled so good; his exotic aroma was bringing all my senses to life. His hands were resting on his right thigh, one atop the other, like in prayer. I tried in vain to see the name on the tag affixed to his jacket. Then, the guide announced that we\u2019d soon reach our destination. The handsome man and I had kept silent for the entire bus ride\u2014some two hours of sighs tumbling into the bumpy void of my heart.\r\n\r\nOn our way, we stopped twice and, each time, the man exited before and held out his hand to help me get off the bus. I could barely look at him because I was so attracted to his face, his self-control. When we reached the bamboo grove, we were each served a nice box of sushi that we enjoyed in silence together. The moment for our stroll through the forest finally came. We made our way at a tortoise\u2019s pace without even seeing what was in front of us since our eyes were fixated on the sky and the tall bamboos pointing like arrows directly into the heart of the clouds. My heart purred with happiness. And while I contemplated the delicate rustling of the air between the bamboos, the man disappeared. Like a feather in the wind, the hope of any intimacy evaporated. Did he run away, get lost, hide? I still ask myself the question.\r\n\r\nWhen the guide finally walked up to me, she pronounced two words that revealed the name of my charming travelling companion: Watanabe Isamu. If only this encounter had been a dream so I could continue to cherish it. It\u2019s a true story, however, that occurred on April\u00a017, 2016, in the Arashiyama bamboo grove, just west of Kyoto. During those few moments, I believed I\u2019d met my soulmate. Seated by his side in silence for two beautiful hours, I had plenty of time to imagine myself with him for the rest of my days. Once more, I allowed the chatterbox in my head to conjure up a fabulous, unimaginable happiness, as glorious as the aura of that man who existed for only a day.\r\n\r\nCora\r\n\u2665\ufe0f"},"yoast_head":"\n