I am a Westerner

The music is bewitching, seems to come from a pearl of wisdom perfectly adapted to the aesthetic canons of the rich and idle West. The images, deliciously arranged, promise us mystery, madness, discovery and above all rest for our frayed souls.

This advertising is part of the great lie that is seduction. Kerala doesn’t live like this. Just yesterday, I was watching a report by "Faut pas rêver" (TV5) about that region. Certainly, there is all this, this mysticism, this religion in every gesture, this importance of the hair that is cut into sacrifice to I don’t know which beneficent god, hair that is then treated behind the temples and sold, at a high price, to the white women of Europe or to the Yellow of the other regions. Because modernity has dried up the natural hair and only women in Kerala still have an intact mane. This is, after all, the land of God.

In this country, according to this report, we are happy to give, no matter if vultures trade your flesh, as long as the friendly gesture we make towards God brings us happiness.

It is therefore always a question of balance. Everyone is happy if they reach the right position, the right presence in the face of nothingness. Everyone makes their nest, surrenders body and soul to their destiny. Good if the heavenly streams flow towards our veins, good if our discipline of existence transports us into an eternal and intangible dream.

I too am a religious being, I have my own rituals, my own temptations of belief. I’d like to be that lady in that video, I’d like to be in Kerala.

I am a Westerner.