- "L'effet "pantoufles" "de Nadine CHEVALLIER

- "Être raisonnablement malheureux" de Régis MOULU

- "Pleasure and pain" de Claudine CARPENTER

 

"L'effet "pantoufles" " de Nadine CHEVALLIER, texte écrit en différé dans les mêmes conditions qu'en séance

L'effet " pantoufles " D'une main délicate, Marie-Louise pose ses pantoufles neuves sur le tapis brun, un peu élimé qui couvre les carreaux froids de la salle de bain. Elle a décidé de ne pas les mettre avant d'avoir les pieds propres. Sa petite fille les lui a offertes en lui précisant " Mamie, ce sont des pantoufles magiques, elles te conduisent où tu veux !

" Elle frissonne en se déshabillant. Enlever son pull lui demande un gros effort, ses bras ne montent plus assez loin au dessus de sa tête. Assise sur le coffre à linge, elle enlève ses bas en soufflant. La voilà nue, elle trouve sa peau blême et flasque, ne veut pas se regarder davantage.

Levant doucement le pied droit d'abord, elle entre dans la douche, la jambe gauche suit avec difficulté. Elle s'agrippe au robinet, réussit à l'ouvrir et reçoit un jet d'eau glacé sur la tête. Poussant un cri de surprise, elle se recule, se cogne à la paroi. L'eau coule à flot, se réchauffe. Elle ne voudrait pas se mouiller davantage les cheveux. Elle se hisse sur la pointe des pieds. S'appuyant au mur lisse, elle parvient à attraper le pommeau, à le décrocher. Avec un soupir de bien-être, elle dirige le jet sur son ventre, son dos. Posant la douchette au fond du bac, elle se savonne en prenant soin de ne pas glisser. Elle se rince longuement. Les gouttes tièdes roulent sur sa peau, diluent la fatigue, emportent les pensées. Elle fait tout au ralenti. Surtout, ne pas risquer la chute.

Le tapis est rugueux sous ses pieds mouillés lorsqu'elle sort avec d'infinies précautions. Elle a oublié la serviette sur la patère, doit faire trois pas sur le carrelage pour l'attraper, elle a froid maintenant. Elle s'essuie en frémissant et glisse enfin ses pieds secs dans les pantoufles roses.

Aussitôt, ils se sentent à l'aise, chauds et détendus. Alors, elle se met à tapoter le sol du pied, le droit, en chantonnant un air de valse. Les pantoufles suivent son désir, le pied gauche s'en mêle, ses pas se font plus surs, elle tourne sur elle-même, les bras écartés, elle chante maintenant à pleine voix " je vois la vie en rose ".

Elle ne porte que ses pantoufles roses. Elle retourne au temps de sa jeunesse quand elle dansait la valse avec son amoureux. Regardez ! Marie-Louise dans sa salle de bain, toute nue devant le grand miroir ! Elle se trouve belle.

"Être raisonnablement malheureux" de Régis MOULU, animateur de l'atelier

Trois oranges, deux citrons,
cinq fruits dans une coupe,
ce soleil dans une main
qui se tend,
qui s'allonge maintenant vers toi.

Après une si longue marche;
tout est mirage
au moment même où tu es prêt à ne plus voir
de fleurs mais des surprises,
de passereaux mais des merveilles,
de chats mais des lions,
d'inconnus mais des amis,
notre monde mais un paradis réactivé.

Pour l'heure, la soif t'a troué
et ton espoir marche loin derrière toi,
reste-t-il des violons
qu'enchantent leurs archets
en toi,
le kiosque à musique dans ton être
s'est effondré,
la tempête du doute est passée par là,
et voilà qu'un compotier t'apparaît,
beau et indéfinissable
comme un palais doré.

Son or à présent t'éblouit,
te trompe peut-être,
en tout cas recolorie ta peau,
qui bénéficierait d'une telle lumière
finirait par porter une couronne,
son reflet,
toujours est-il que ce rayon de vitamines
t'a agrandi.

Coupe de fruits comme un visage
qui maintenant s'anime,
te susurre ses petits mots doux,
t'enchante, te charme,
ton cerveau tel un gigot
piqué d'ails,
des électrodes en surchauffe,
y succombe.

T'est offert un nouveau voyage
au milieu des nuages
grenus comme des peaux d'agrume,
au final, on te dit
ce que tu veux entendre
mais tu ne veux pas y croire
car ça serait trop bien,
ton insatisfaction organisée
garde en effet la main,
te rend sensible, quasi abruti par intérêt,
et tout ça c'est bien toi,
l'homme qui vit de se savoir ordinaire,
insuffisant,
raisonnablement malheureux,
cette posture tu la tiens bien !

Trois oranges, deux citrons,
t'apparaissent comme un puits
dont tu es le fond,
l'eau stagnante,
pauvre candidat au pourrissement,
c'est une poignée de bijoux
que ton âme évalue
puis met en cachette,
comme ça, juste pour s'admirer
tant « s'admirer » ce serait finalement « renaître »,
mais pourquoi cette poésie
ne s'affiche-t-elle pas sur ton visage ?

Tu bois les fruits de ton regard,
prétentions en sucre
que génère ton désir solide,
un couteau à la main
et le sens du sacrifice
pour seul alibi,
tu es devenu un acteur,
l'exécutant d'une partition,
le fruit va couler,
l'icône va mourir,
cette histoire va disparaître
mais demain existera.

On est « demain »,
tu n'as toujours rien fait,
les agrumes sont mous
et pleins de mouches,
palais en ruine
que le fantôme de ta décision parcourt.

Une odeur de romantisme
te tire des larmes,
te serre dans son écharpe,
les insectes sont un poivre irritant,
une instabilité travailleuse qui te gène,
te cherche,
te défait progressivement
… serais-tu toi-même
un fruit déliquescent ?

Le compotier s'élève,
puis s'envole
jusqu'à s'engouffrer dans la ligne d'horizon,
sous l'épais matelas de notre azur :
nouvelle pièce d'or
insérée dans le juke-box
de notre entendement,
là où la chanson du cosmos
poursuit son ouvrage.

 

"Pleasure and pain" de Claudine CARPENTER, texte écrit en anglais et lu-traduit à l'oral en français lors de la séance

PLEASURE

The radiator is hot, terribly hot against my back. At first, it burnt but as I insisted, pushing my back against it until I broke into a slight sweat, now it is only hot, almost pleasantly so. I push hard into it, trying to merge my body into its warmth. I am sitting in a corner of the hall, between the living room door and the grandfather clock that is ticking its slow, perpetual tic-toc. I know that at some point it is going to start ringing, that the ring is going to vibrate through the clock walls, through the metal of the radiator, into my back. It will be loud but not unbearably so. So I am staying just here, where everything is just right. In the dining room, the adults are talking. I hear animated voices and the odd shout. But the hall is nice and peaceful. I am sitting there with my back against the radiator, with a pile of books, the Fantômette books that Father Christmas brought me this morning because I am a big girl who can read big girl books with almost no pictures. Mamie is very interested in my Fantômette books, this morning, she asked me if I liked them and if I was going to read them. Of course I like them! And I am going to read them! Fantômette is the bestest! I love Fantômette because she is a lot like me but also very different. In the day, she is a young girl like me, her name is Françoise, she goes to school, like me, she has short dark curly hair, like Maman and me, and she is very good at French, like me. She is top of her class at school, everyone loves her, especially the teacher, she lives with her friends Boulotte and Ficelle and a black cat called Mephisto in a big house that looks like a flying saucer, and she has a friend the journalist Oeil-de-Lynx who comes over to see her all the time and helps her investigate. At night, she becomes her secret identity, Fantômette, she wears a costume which consists in a yellow bodysuit, a black and red cape held by a brooch with an F, black tights, a black bobble hat and a black cat's eye mask. And, at night, instead of going to bed like me, she goes out to investigate crime and catch baddies. I was allowed to leave the table before dessert today because the adults were talking and Tonton Jean started talking about something called gas bedrooms and said that they were just a detail of history. Mamie went all red and said that he didn't know what he was talking about. Tonton Jean banged his fist on the table and said that there was absolutely no proof that they had existed. Mamie got even redder and said that she had been to Dachau in 1945 and that she had seen the gas bedrooms and the people who had been in them and that it was an insult to the memory of all the people… and Maman told Guillaume and I to go out and play. Daddy didn't say a thing because he doesn't speak French like the rest of us, so he just read the paper during the meal and was quiet saying nothing apart from the occasional "Oui meurci". We couldn't go outside to play because it was raining and really muddy so Guillaume went to his room to play with the toy tractor Father Christmas had brought him (it is red, it does horrible engine noises and its headlights light up when you press on a button, Guillaume loves it but then he is stupid, especially when it comes to boring things like tractors and cars). I went and sat against the hot radiator with my books. I had started the second book in the series, Fantomette and the Regent Diamond just before lunch and I really couldn't wait to find out what had happened and who had stolen the diamond. I had left off at a really exciting moment: Fantômette has climbed into the ventilation system of the Louvre museum and has crawled through it into the safe room the diamond was kept in to see if the burglars went through there to steal it. This was very clever of her because she found several clues in the ventilation system and we already have a clear idea of who the thieves are. I am reading with my back against the radiator when the clock rings four times. It is four o'clock and I realise I didn't eat any dessert, and so I go to the kitchen. Maman walks out of the noisy dining room as just I walk in, saying that they are horrible, that they shouldn't fight because she has high blood pressure and that they are making it worse. She says yes when I ask if I can take some clementines for dessert as I didn't get any cake. On the floor is a big wooden fruit case, it is full of clementines, and I take it into the hall with me, pushing it in front of me because it is too heavy to carry. I sit down with my back against the hot radiator and take my book and a clementine. I put my finger into the top of the clementine to open it. The skin gives and its acidic juice sprays a little onto the book making it smell nice. I peel it and start to eat it, quarter by quarter whilst reading my book. I eat one clementine, then two. I am eating slowly, peeling each clementine carefully, removing every single white bit from the quarters, peeling off the translucent skin from them, letting the little juice kernels separate as I pull the clementine quarter apart and picking them off one by one letting them dissolve in my mouth, deliciously. I take a third clementine and peel it. The adults are still arguing in the living room. Tonton Jean is saying "Lies! All lies! And they had asked for it!". I do wonder what a gas bedroom is. I have already tried to look it up in the dictionary I have for school, because the adults often talk about them, but I can't find anything on them. Maman says that I am too small to know about things like that and Daddy just smiles at me and says that he doesn't know what they are. I wish that Fantômette would investigate them so I could know what they are. I know what a bedroom is and I know that gas is used to heat the house. I picture a room with beds where it is really hot, so hot it is really unpleasant. I do know some things, like that the gas bedrooms are very bad, because if they weren't Maman would tell me what they are. But I don't really understand why they were bad because heat isn't unpleasant, especially in winter and I know that these bedrooms were in Germany where it is freezing (Mamie was in Germany in 1945 and 46, doing something that has to do with the gas bedrooms and some people called the Americans and she told me that there is lots of snow there in winter). Pushing into the hot radiator, I pick up another clementine and start peeling it. I have already finished my second book and so I start the third one, Fantômette in the Pampa. On the cover, there is a picture of Fantômette wearing a beige outfit and a straw hat but she still has her mask on, in order to hide her secret identity. In this book, Fantômette is in a place called Argentina where there are a lot of cows and horses, and there is a pampa. I really like the book because Fantômette is so clever and she is investigating another crime but as it is abroad she is speaking Spanish with the people she is investigating. Fantômette speaks two languages, like me. I hadn't known that about her and I am really pleased to learn that. As I reach out for another clementine, Susie the cat comes up to me and curls up in a ball right next to me. I stroke her a little and tell her that she is a princess, and that I love her. She likes being a princess, I can tell by how she closes her eyes happily. I don't want to be a princess anymore, I want to be a detective like Fantômette. I start reading my book aloud for Susie the cat, she starts to purr because she likes Fantômette, like me. I sit there reading my third book, the radiator is hot, the clementines taste so good, Susie the cat is purring, she is lying on her back, I am scratching her tummy, it is orange like the clementines and it also smells delicious, of cat and of clementines. The clock is ticking away, regularly, until it rings again, and it is five o'clock. Tonton Jean leaves the dining room with his wife. He is still speaking angrily, and his wife is telling him to calm down, to stop shouting, that he knows what his sister is like and that he oughtn't let her rile him up like that. And then, she looks right at me and says "Oh! You naughty girl! You have eaten all the clementines!". ?

PAIN

Everything hurts. My whole body is red and itchy. I hurts to put on clothes and when I touch anything. Maman took me to the doctor, to see what was wrong. The doctor asked if I had eaten anything unusual and Maman told him about the clementines. The doctor says he knows what happened, that I am having an allergic reaction to the citrus. Maman had a tight face when she drove us, first to the chemist's, to buy some special cream for the rash and the burns and then home. When we got home she told me that she had some phone calls to make and to go to my bedroom. In my bedroom, when we got home, I looked up allergic and citrus in the dictionary. Now I understand what has happened and why Maman is so angry with me. It is all my fault, I shouldn't have eaten all the clementines, they made me ill. Fantômette would never have done something stupid like that. And now I can't go to school for a whole week because of the rash and Maman has to go to work and what can Maman do with me? I sit on my bed, my arms tight around my body, making myself as small as I possibly can. I want to cry but only babies cry and I am not a baby. So I just sit on my bed holding myself tight and try not to scratch. Someone knocks on the door. It is Mamie! She comes in and asks for a kiss. I get out of bed and hug her legs, my nose is buried in her fur coat and the hairs are a little damp, a little cold and go up my nose, making me want to sneeze a little. She has come back to look after me. I am so happy! "Wait! I didn't want you to be bored if you can't go to school", she says and she takes a parcel out of her handbag. Inside are six small books with a pink spine and, from the cover of each one, Fantômette's face is smiling up at me.