He was not from here.
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Although, he felt deeply welcomed.
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One couldn’t quite grasp the essence of this beautiful feeling,
As if all instruments in a concerto were unrecognisable, yet forming a pleasing harmony.
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He believed it resembled his idea of home,
One he wants to imagine, one he’s not part of.
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How could a place be so alive, although made of old wood, sails and water.
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One thing stood out while talking to her dad, his boat was a she and her sisters live longer than him, all of us.
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He found himself surrounded, in the middle of these boats, these women, passionate about their conversations, their experiences.
Maybe he liked the mystery they hid, the visual poetry of an unknown environment.
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The boat yard as he knows it has been standing for 60 years.
Handed from one generation to another, built, changed and constantly evolving.
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As the wind talked to him, he could only hear, listen.
Each riddle on this green surface, each little wave seemed to try their hardest, to bring him light.
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The sky decided to dress up that night. An orange hat, purple suit and a bright blue shirt.
He was the real intruder in all of this, underdressed and underprepared.
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The old sailor was reading his book as usual, as another one washed his deck.
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He heard there was an explosion here, back in the 50s.
A missile storage caught fire and flew into pieces , blowing all windows around.
It is said that some parts of the ships from the other side of the bay were found where he stood.
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Hard to believe that this place was subject to such an event, disruption.
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She was born there, surrounded by a simple yet mysterious playground.
The perfect hide and seek, a youth, a sanctuary.
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What was he in all of this ? He had no answer, the landscape didn’t, his body neither, all is an interpretation.
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He came there with an idea and is now leaving seduced, confused by the simple intensity of a place.
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In a way, in love with his own painting.
Felix Perier - 2024