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MARCEL

English Stories / 8 Comments / December 13, 2011

We were happily driving along those panoramic routes  that criss-cross the Champagne countryside. Gorgeous weather, perfect contrasting colour for a perfect day. Blue sky, deep green hills crowned by multiple fields of Pinot Noir, the best grape for producing the bubbly expensive wine which, nowadays, we don’t reserve only for special occasions.

A sudden crave: “croissant”! It’s early morning! They should just be out of the oven – and still warm!

Epernay is still sleepy when we enter into town and we head directly to the centre, where the best bakery is usually supposed to be. A lovely display of different forms and shapes of pastries is in front of our eyes. And the smell…hmmm… and that mouth watering sensation!

I hardly notice the shabby boy who comes in our direction and mumbles something. I just briskly say: “ Sorry, I don’t understand” and get into the car. I see that other people are avoiding him when, suddenly, a young  lady, holding a little girl by hand, stops beside him and starts addressing him. I see his face becoming saddened, but then the woman hands him a bag and leaves as quickly as she arrived.

Like an animal in his lair, the boy, whom I will call Marcel, looks around fearful and seats on the pavement, peering into his treasure. A sudden broad and beautiful smile illuminates his face: what’s in there? A Coke! A whole can of Coke which he doesn’t have to share with anybody!  Frantic little fingers open the lid and he can savour, in a few rapturous gulps, the divine liquid flowing down his throat!

I’m frozen in my car, with my expensive camera on my lap, and I start shooting pictures without knowledge, seeing the poor boy for the first time, fixing this image for ever.

It must have lasted only two minutes,  but in front of me a whole life, a film was passing by. Now the can is empty, your expression Marcel starts changing; your smile, little by little, gives way to sealed lips, your eyes become sad like before.

It’s exactly at this moment that you notice and stare at me; the last glance I have of you is of an old person, somebody who has never known youth, but was forced to a hard existence from the start.

What’s that bruise near your eyes? Is somebody beating you? Is this the reason for your hunted animal look?

Marcel: I’m sorry I could not understand you, not because I don’t speak your language, but because my eyes refused to see!

I hope you will find a way out in life Marcel (or any other children like you, might they be Antoine, Philippe or Marguerite), because you have the right, like any other human being, to experience happiness in your existence – and not just because of a can of Coke!

In Eparney a beggar boy with a sad look sit outside a bakery waiting for customers giving him few coins. The bruise on his face is a remainder of a rough and abused life

8 Comments
  • Michiel Fokkema / December 13, 2011 / Reply

    Great story and lovely photo’s. Keep them coming!

  • Ingrid / December 13, 2011 / Reply

    Non solo una lodevole fotografo, ma anche una scrittrice promettente!
    Son curiosa ne leggere di più.
    Ingrid

  • jen / December 14, 2011 / Reply

    Moving story,wonderful photos. Looking forward to next blog.

  • meliha / December 25, 2011 / Reply

    Beautiful story with lovely photos. I was waiting for this , you know:) Thank you for sharing. I am so proud… We want more:)) please…

  • Hisham / February 15, 2012 / Reply

    Very moving story and brilliantly written. Great photos as well!

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