Time stood still

I came back from Rodrigues, a place where every night you listen to the sea serenely narrating its day to you.There, the nasty world with its tentacles of rumours and fears cannot get hold of you.I sat by the jetty and watched the people coming back from fishing and I decided that I would hang on to that image. I will never dare share it with anyone.
I will not tell you about the lady with the glowing aura who laughingly told me that I was 'blanc kouma ene gato la krème'. I will not tell you about Zean Filip, that 10 year old kid with one slipper who initiated us to fishing. I will not tell you about my morning walk from Port Mathurin to the deserted beach of Baladirou and how alive I felt.I will not tell you about the gato sept fois, the boudoute, the politaine and the lady who asked my sister to buy her a pok pok. I will not tell you about the magic that came out of madam jeanette's pots.
I will definitely not tell you how I came back home leaving my spirit behind to wander under the filaos trees of Gravier.

Only feelings can understand the heartbeat of that island.

I went.I saw. I became.