To better enjoy this article, you should read this one first, it’s Nathalie’s version : https://nathjy.travel.blog/2020/07/06/wanna-write/

It was at the start of the 2019 school year, and here she is coming towards me, all smiling and, on the surface, in the greatest calm, but in reality all excited. We’ve been living together for over 10 years, and I’m getting to know her.
-Do you remember the thing we saw in the Rue de la Tombe Issoire, in front of the Comptoir des catacombes?
With her, you have to talk about the « thing », because it’s a word that comes up a lot?
-Yes, I remember the traffic light which is actually right across the street… unless you want to tell me about the trash can… or the railing… unless it’s the crosswalk…
-But no, you know what I want to talk to you about, I told you about it yesterday!
-No, you don’t.
-You’re really losing your memory, it’s unbelievable!
She’s got a point there, because although for her there are a lot of things that go by the name of « thing », as far as I’m concerned, I forget quickly and a lot.
-I’m talking about the writing course, in the shop called Atelier 66… or 33… or 22, I don’t remember.
A point for me, Alzheimer’s is for everyone… but these details awaken in me more memories than « thing ».

-Atelier 62, yes, I see, the shop that has just been redone with the front painted black and the frosted window so that you can’t see anything inside… and?
-And there’s a free writing workshop session tomorrow afternoon, do you still want to go?
Alzheimer’s, when you have us…
-Yeah, we’ll see, when is it?
-16h00.
-Okay, that way I’ll have time to take a nap, because it’s been a busy week, I’m exhausted.
Big smile, clearly visible excitement this time, she got what she wanted and is leaving in a state of perky excitement making lunch this Saturday, and me, « me! « , as Jacques Brel used to say, I’m taking down the garbage.

I was fine, no pain, no thought, a pure moment of what some philosophers call « being », and this for a very small eternity when my shoulder started to move by itself. Annoying. And it goes on and on. And she starts talking to me.
-We have to go, or we’ll be late.
That’s not my shoulder. I should’ve thought of that right away, because she never spoke to me, unlike…
-Come on, come on, you’ve been napping for two hours.
Yes, indeed, a tiny little eternity of bliss, interrupted for what again?
-We’re going to the writing workshop!
-Why? Why would we?
-Because I want to!

There, a red light starts flashing, a strident alarm sounds, my circuits go on emergency reactivation for critical situations… I had to promise a « thing » – that’s the way to say it! – and in these cases, you have to keep it up, otherwise it’s the end of the world… and worse. Don’t ask me what happened between my bed and the white table in Atelier 62, I have no memory of it. But here we are sitting, my half on my right, a girl named Annabelle across the table, another girl with another name on her left – Eylem – and at the end of the table… Daphne. Damn, she looks like a clone of my wife, only younger and with black hair. But the same smile, the same enthusiasm, the same energy… I’m going to suffer… what wouldn’t we do for his love!

And then the session started, I loved it.

I can’t wait for the next one.

Par Jean-Yves

Translated with http://www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version)