The literature
Dear Readers,
Everyone, we need sometimes to clear out our mind. To find our haven of peace. In this way, literature has become to me, a kind of boudoir, a way to escape myself. When my mother was reprimanding me, when I had a heart pain, when I had, only, a need to isolate me. To empty my mind to see clearest in some situation, after try again. I imagined stories that I read, actors took place in my mind and the masterpiece took life. When I had to close the book, I felt calm, ready to face what I had to do.
Literary café
Paris, French literature cot. Paris, which welcomed writers. Consequently, Paris, scene of a lot of literature masterpiece. In this way, the city of lights knows lots of literary café. Indeed, my favourite one is “La Belle Hortense” in the 4th district, Rue Vieille du Temple. In this place, calm and serene, I find piece of literature, books about history or on psychology. Regularly, I arrive in front of this blue face, discrete, I softly push the door, and already, I feel the comfort. Thus, I direct myself, softly, with the music rhythm, to the bookcase, and, with attention, I pick a book. I settle to a table, I ask for a drink, sometime for something to eat, and then, I gaze at. I gaze at, around me, those lovers of literature who debate between them about a story, or who are in their book, frown, and have an astonished appearance. I see a lot of different feelings on their faces. When my drink arrives, I start to read. One hour, two hours, three hours…. I never look at my watch when I am there. And, when I go out, I always feel very calm, always astonish by the noise which agitates the city, as if, during a short moment, I wasn’t there anymore, but spectator of what I was read just before.
Astonished, lost in my mind, this is in the Hotel Le Tourville that I am, because, in this place, I feel the same sensation that I could felt in the literary café. Calm and serenity are important there, and charmed by the smell of the lobby, I return in my books, because, as Rivarol told “Reading, a charming forgotten of ourselves and life”.
See you soon!
