Every morning

Every morning, a new mixture of colours, a harmony that painters can envy. Autumn continues its timeless and cyclical work. Every morning, a reminder that the wheel turns, never quite in the same place since time, in our heads, piles up like dead leaves, brown and green, set with yellow and wind.

We can only explore it every day if we walk through it. You have to let your eyes wander over the coincidences, calm your thoughts so that they absorb the chance of encounters.

The same goes for the people in our lives. To be with them every morning, or during every emotion, to witness their seasons, the smiles that are coloured by the emery of pain, to hear them, touch them or see them die, just once before they come to garden in our memories.

Living requires humility and respect. Of course, there are poisons around us, violence, misunderstanding, witch hunts and illusions.

But by walking our life one step at a time, we can overcome our torments. One can at least reach a fertile region, a lawn where only four-leaf clovers grow. To live requires dreaming.