Alive

How to praise death for what is not in it: life? How to transform fleeting moments into faith in love, a continuous faith in the present and the future? But how do we honor those we love from death without bothering them with our bitter grief over their absence? In this captivating text, the French writer Christian Bobin reaffirms all meanings to their origin: death is nothing but a passing moment of crossing followed by life, love is nothing but a stable present in the past, pain is only the other face of joy, the beloved woman and companion are nothing but the mother with all her presence and contradictions. And this wonderful text, despite its brevity, formed an important and fundamental turning point in Christian Bobin's literature, for despite the frequent presence of the death of the beloved and companion, it is, at its core, a highly luxurious praise of life and its details, as if the writer is reminding us of the importance of recording our small details, big ones, with the beloved, or even inviting us to talk about the death of those we love, as we talk about the singing of nightingales in their branches, the swaying of tree heads in spring evenings, and children's pranks when they want to tease their elders. However, we point out a crucial matter regarding this book: those seeking answers about life and death will not find their lost item here. Christian Bobin, with his captivating language and flowing poeticism, defines the landmarks of the path for us and invites us to delve into it, so that we may resemble "Ghazlan," his beloved woman, a woman who tasted death at the hand of her, yet remained... alive!