TE20 Migrant Mosaics

Annie Ernaux

After the night of September 11, she continues to asso¬ciate with the group but now she is untouchable. They know nothing about her dream. It matters little that H has made no plans to meet her in Rouen. She is sure to find him again in October just by wandering the streets after class at the Lycée Jeanne-d’Arc, where she is about to begin studies in philos¬ophy. She has no leads, apart from the fact that he teaches physical education at a boys’ technical college on the left bank. Few images remain of the last two weeks at camp. It could be that my dream was so unyielding and so meager that reality was unable to take root in memory. One free afternoon, she sits on a boulder high above a sort of lake surrounded by red rock. It is an abandoned quarry, filled with water, deep in the forest near S. She hitched a ride, then hiked down a path littered with stones, leaving the road far behind, and suddenly arrived at this opening, not unlike a canyon. Some teenagers arrived, laid their bikes on the ground, and played in the water. They must have said hello and she not replied because they called, “You’re not much to look at, so can’t you at least be nice?” This upsets her more than the taunts of the group at camp. She eats more and more, taking unrestrained advantage of the abundantly available food. The pleasure she finds in eating has become a vital necessity. When no one is looking, she bolts down sliced tomatoes straight from a big salad bowl, prepared for the children in the infirmary. All the freedom she dreamt of in Yvetot becomes reality in her jaunts to the pastry shop in S to buy mocha cream cakes and coffee éclairs. A summer, autumn, and winter have passed since I returned the 136