My fears have been dispelled by the return of its good health. A new life beats in its heart. Thanks to you, the Saga will live. Your gifts have given pink cheeks to the Saga. Under your sweet kisses, it blushed like an 16-year-old girl — its age.born 2008, it will be 18 next spring Too young to die. As long as you read it, Eden Saga will live.
Life is like cycling: to keep your balance, you have to move forward.
Until my last breath I will know how to stick my lips on hers to breathe in what remains of life. And you, my dear friends, who have answered with such haste and envy, you have entered into my heart made to love the other world, and you have reconciled me with this one, the here-below which can sometimes be so beautiful. Emotion carries me like a mirage 2000, like a rafale, like an alpha jet.
It’s crazy I’m flying
all is so beautiful
It’s crazy I fly fly fly
I have the heart of a bird
The Saga is saved. Eden is reborn from its ashes, a bit too quickly buried, it is resurrected. How can I express my gratitude? These lines are not enough. Your kindness. The love you have shown me. This renewed joy which you still feed me at this moment, every time I read a new message. The many encounters of unknown readers who know me so well and for so long. The gifts of attention, respect, hugs have made so many living links bloom between you and me! I lived it, I still live it and I don’t believe it.
I don’t want to believe, I want to know.
How the nose on my screen, immersed in my grimoires where the dust of the past accumulates, rummaging through the granaries of time when we can only hear the long shriek of the temporal spiders, tall as two twin towers, long as a day without bread, How did I accomplish so many beautiful, moving adventures, so many joys and hopes that were born over the course of my keyboard’s evenings? Friends, if you knew!
If you knew the trouble I gave myself, happiness won, pleasure came that no longer leaves me. I only wanted… What was my desire? To spread the sweet perfumes of old? To look at my past, my life? To take stock? I read everything. So much learned. I thought a scribbler would not be enough. Old paper editor, familiar with typefaces, cromaliners runner, crazy for four-color, I gave up everything to write on screen. I had to reinvest an unknown, virtual space, he gave me keys to understand and dance.
You have to dance in chains.
I the street singer, the building climber, the roof runner, who turned tables, who strolled from here to there in the green country of Cocagne where I lost faith to find a better way. A paradise, I believe. An Eden is in me that I was to transmit. Hearing your cheers I have nowhere to put myself. Your complimentary balance sheets make me blush. I cut it off and open another email. He says the same emotion. Hope that comes from me. It is so strong that I believe in it, drink from it, see merry swirls, youpies, hurras, yuppies, houris, rumis, rumbas. And I’m here, blue. Pink. Purple. Yellow. I can’t believe it.
Slowly, believing but not believing, I get used to the idea that I could help you. How? I don’t know anything. By what? I don’t know. If someone comes to me, I understand what they have. I have everything they need, I give them a little bit. I know that. I understand. I see how he is regaining his confidence, his awakening, his tone, his confidence. No miracle here: he came for that.
That words dropped at random from the web animate so many people, so many hearts, so many spirits who often return and thank me for it, is more than I can conceive. Yet! Your gifts arrived at the right time. I asked you, you answered. And you gave me survival. Who would believe it? It was out of desperation that I made these calls. I did not want to end without shaking a little, trying anything, it was done. What a farewell!
It fills my heart, it starts a cycle again, I do not have to stop my euphoric routine, euphoric too, and you say so. Incredible adventure where I dreamed aloud: so many people have perceived the echo. Do not stop your gifts, those of the heart that intoxicate me. I will not stop opening my books to you. And you, new friends so precious to me, keep writing to me, especially do not stop. A new world is coming and I didn’t know it.
The joy, the love, the right to always love, the happiness of being read passes that of writing, completes it and makes an old man tired of everything laugh who starts living again, caressing a little bit the flesh of a loved one, cooking my dishes, licking my fingers, To seek the future me who no longer believed in it.
And if you like my company, know that I publish a new article every three days, varying the pleasures. Once I approach the inner life, the next time the past of humanity or its future. There are these two axes in the saga of Eden. It is impossible to grow if you do not know where you come from or where you are going.
Where do I come from? Where do I go? I can tell you. I come from home and I’m going back.
My goal is planetary awakening, I do not hide it, only enlightenment will save us. Wake up urgently, beyond the unfounded beliefs, the superstitions eroded by the malice of our false elites.
I woke up and I saw that everyone was still asleep. So I went back to sleep.
Here, try this. Click on the contents. And as soon as it is opened, click again on the window at the top: unfold everything. You can unroll before your incredulous eyes the gleaming ribbon of my past desires. All my texts are there, except those that are not: free pdf, tales, stories, novels. the old is a sick and that since childhood. Scriptomania, that is the name of my dementia. I have never experienced the anguish of the blank page. The inspiration hole? The head in confusion? Never, ever, ever!
For the simple reason that my head is empty. I have no more thinking, no more hassles, no more plans in my head: just a brain that sleeps. I write with my hands. I speak with my mouth. The words come from the heart and guts. And the rhyme is active to my greatest emotion. Who makes it? Oh not me. Be sure. And when I read myself again, I don’t recognize it. I think I’m reading a story that was written by someone else.
If you listen to me speak, it’s all the same. The flow of words comes from an unknown source. It is the bare material laid by sylvettes, elfettes, nymphettes and saperlipopette, it does not come from me. Yet it is my style and my stupid jokes. How do the fairies imitate me so well? I confess: I don’t know. Come and see me, you’ll see.
Eden Saga takes you to Erquy, in this temple where I live, at the table where I eat, and you will spend more strange, disconcerting, intimate, joyful, fulfilling days you will leave happy as one can be when you become a prophet again. You will be that child you have long lost sight of. He slept in you, eyes half closed, only the good air of the bay woke him up. See how he breathes! Listen to his good laugh. Redeem the child who comes back to life.
The child is the father of man
So I’ll get another friend for life. Mine is finished, yours is lit. You thought you were lost, the heart is a mine. A gold mine. Draw from it. It’s yours by right and for so long! You are much richer and brighter when the child you’ve been comes back, resurrected, to help you sing.
Thank you is not enough for what I owe you. Some money, that’s right, first. And those who will continue to help me in this way will do a useful work. I live on my own, it’s already something. Yet you must live. I bless you, new friends, pure hearts, children of the world, scattered everywhere, you form an intoxicating circle. With such pleasure I have received your gifts! Joy will carry me as far as possible and everything will continue undefeated, invincible. There is something unacceptable in all this: the sacred union around an old sorcerer.
My goal was to help, I saw smaller. You are so many and in so many countries! Friends of heart, discreet and faithful, reflections of a paradise that is not so lost as it was said. The endless saga of Eden does not end. Thanks to you.
and if you want to help
the old man in his work
slip in from time to time
in the old-timer’s hand
enough to bring him luck
every month you may give
your amount for the cost
of the old-timer posts
you will help him to live
be sure for every gift
you will get back a lift
Awaken!
All ancient civilizations sought awakening and enlightenment.
It wasn’t a quest of wisdom but for eternal life. What about us?
Why black? Because the Virgin of the origins has nothing to do with the blonde…
Freud opposes pleasure to displeasure and is at odds with reality where nothing is so…
What do I know? Little. What do I expect? Everything else. What do I get?…
Helping children to grow up, fairy tales are a precious and fantastic initiation for adults