His last trip to the Bidonville.
In addition, snow is falling, it's hard. It's cold, he is cold, he is more than tired. But still, he carries on, he is stubborn..., he carries on watching the clock of time for next winter by formulating a request : to make "- this home more comfortable in winter."
There will be no other winter.
And here we are in the evening around this table he had wanted under a closed veranda of the terrace, in front of TRACTION AVANT - TRACTION APRES, under a blanket of snow. Together around the soup, this soup just as he likes it: the vegetables are cut into small squares, sauté with a spoon of olive oil before being covered with water for cooking. One of Pachatte’s recipes.
It’s true that the sharing of the meal, when there is no need for representation linked to his fame: cameras in alert, obligatory laughter to all jokes- it does not matter if they the jokes are not funny, it has nothing to do with this here...
And yet, yes there is something to see. His hands feel so cold that assistance has to provide him with leather gloves that are lined, the wool alone was not enough... Don’t try, it’s not easy to eat with them... And here he needs to eat...
So giving him the spoon, moving the glass forward, pushing the slice of bread for his favorite cheese, goat cheese that time, to combine with the soup as he remains as precise in the composition as he is in his work.
Only flawless knowledge in the intimate link with perfectly orchestrated relay makes grace happen here: in the form of feeding him.
As a duet, in a "pas de deux" that should not make missteps. No stumbling, to succeed in the WORK, in some way. Without words, in these whereabouts to know the right time of the other one... As for know-how, all figures must be carried out smoothly, the towel and the move in time to the mouth.