Warnauts
Jean-Polpol

Marcel appeared briefly in my life.

It happened in the fifties or seventies.

I can't remember exactly any more.

We were living in Michigan or in Walloon Brabant.

My memory's never been good.

I spent the whole day with my mother.

I was too young to go to school.

My father was a foreman or something like that at General Motors.

One afternoon, someone knocked at the door.

My mother went to open it.

The man who introduced himself was strange.

He must have been a foreigner.

I had never seen one before.

I think it was a weasel.

Or thinking about it, more probably a tortoise.... Lire la suite