Chronic. One afternoon in August, in Brittany, as I am about to perform my best service on the campsite’s ping-pong table, a little voice behind me cuts off my momentum:
” Hey ! Do you want a magic trick? “
I turn to find a little boy, 6-7 years old, dark brown hair and big matching eyes, staring at me insistently. Although a little confused by the proposal, I give up my match and prepare for the performance. It’s around 5 p.m. and he’s having something to eat. I ask him about his snack.
“Well, it’s not really a snack… It’s a little aperitif! “
My excuses. The parents’ alcoholic-summer practices have gone through this.
“Me, what I prefer to taste it is the ice tea … And, today, with the sssorizo. “
Far from any judgment about this new way of accommodating chorizo, I watch him spill almost all of the contents of his small backpack on the ping-pong table. Between three decks of cards, rubber bands and a magic wand, he ends up proudly brandishing a plastic cup and a 20-cent coin.
“I try to pretend I’m having too much fun on my own, like it would be too good to be my friend. ”
“Aloooors… There I have a glass and this room, I’m going to pass it through!” And there, you can see, there are no holes in the glass, eh! So I’m going to shake it… Tap, tap, tap… And if I shake it two more times… three times… five times… ”
A second coin falls from his other hand while the suspense is at its height. He remains very dignified, I pretend not to have seen anything. He resumes, frowning and frowning:
“Be careful, it will work if I do … Tap, tap, tap … A little movement of your finger … tap tap tap … Like this and, pfiouuu! There’s more room! She went through the glass! “
Dazzled by so much panache (and disregarding the clever scheme involving the second play), I ask him if he often shows his magic tricks to his school friends.
“Well, yes, me what I like is when it makes movements. [Il fait de grands gestes avec ses bras.] But sometimes it’s not easy because I’m a little shy about making friends. “
I am about to tell him about my own difficulties in bonding with my fellows, when a gentle, but nevertheless very humid, Breton rain descends on our conversation and sends us back to our respective tents.
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