Instead of men, nature itself writes the history of the Earth. A whole new novel.
What a summer! Thirsty plains, dry lakes, flaming forests, liquefied glaciers, mopped up rivers, shipwrecked bays, mired quays, sagging cliffs, exasperated thunderstorms, raging tornadoes, raging winds… All this under a sun stuck in the air. A France in dry-fired terracotta. Disasters moved in groups, like sardines. And now we wait for the floods. It won’t be long.
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The Earth no longer spins. On Île-aux-Moines, the bushes, hedges, grass and ponds fluttered. All the melodies of nature crackled. I imagine even Ireland looked like a doormat. For the summers to come, I warn you of definite shortages of slow-moving rivers, quiet streams, rainy gardens, and emerald harvests. We can say thank you to nature: it will have announced to us in neon what awaits us. The tocsin bells rang out. Let’s hope that, for once, it will have struck. Impossible to ignore it any longer: human activities and natural manifestations are bumping against each other like cogwheels. Trust this famous and precious Earth: it will continue to turn on its murderous axis, to skin, bite, cut, scar and torture… What runs through its veins is lava.
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Let’s stop believing in its angelic, green, pure and organic nature. She is brutal, capricious and ruthless. With it, no help to the weakest. The big fish eat the little ones, and basta! As for the men, since the time they attack her, she takes revenge. We have not finished drooling. Obviously, in the political class huddled around the state as if near a radiator, everyone bleats the same note: everything must be changed, and first of all our mentalities. It promises. The solution, however, everyone knows: solar and wind turbines, the only safe, renewable and clean energies. Unfortunately, at the Élysée and elsewhere, they favor nuclear power. Apart from us, the whole world renounces it. And for good reason: nuclear and security are about as compatible as the tavern and the mosque. Sooner or later there are accidents and they are terrible. No matter: vain like us alone and sure to be right, we are about to launch headlong into a ruinous and dangerous program. Thus, fortunately, that random: as soon as one enters the hard, no city will want central at home. And anyway, in fifteen years or more, when the project comes out of the ground, it will already be too late.
The best would obviously be to talk about it with Emmanuel Macron who, back from vacation, will want to be forgiven for his Jet-Ski trips as a bling-bling teenager. But will he find the time? He loves to travel. Taking his smile for the 2nd DB, he goes from one conflict zone to another, equal to himself, fresh as a glass of water, optimistic and bursting with promise. In a few hours of quick passage in Beirut, he had undertaken to rebuild the port and to tear the country from forty years of corrupt clientelism. In Mali, for five years, he has never dared to impose regionalization which alone will solve the problem of a huge country full of ethnic groups who hate each other. I skip over his phone calls with Putin and Zelensky. In diplomatic matters, he may think he is Tarzan jumping from vine to vine, his action is more like that of the squirrel in a cage: a lot of movement to make no progress. The latest fad is Algeria, that dear neighbor who looks at us arched on her tail like a hissing adder. You have to float on your illusions like a gondolier on the lagoon to imagine that you are going to make friends with your government, which is as arrogant as it is incompetent. Never mind, as they say over there, “the bread is in the lion’s mouth”. Clearly, the gifts do not come by themselves, the gas, you have to go get it. So our good president has devoted himself.
On behalf of all of us, thank you. But now let’s deal with ecology. And, first, let’s put a carbon tax on Europe’s doorstep. Let the real polluters pay.