Why do I Write?
I did not leave to explore.
I left to be silent.
At the beginning, there was no project. There was only a need for distance.
To put space between the world and myself. Between the noise and what I vaguely felt was alive.
The taiga, the tundra, Siberia, Lapland came this way.
Not as destinations, but as places where one can still disappear.
Walking for a long time
Walking until thoughts grow tired.
Until the body takes over again.
Until cold, hunger, and silence become simple, concrete, honest things again.
Out there, nothing lies.
You quickly learn:
- that comfort is only a parenthesis
- that control is an illusion
- that the essential is very little
Autonomy
This word is often misunderstood.
It is not about being strong.
It is not about being invulnerable.
It is accepting to truly depend on what surrounds us.
On fire.
On water.
On time.
On others, sometimes.
And to make do with what is there.
Why write?
I do not write to tell stories of exploits.
I have none.
I write so as not to lose the trace.
To keep a form of continuity between those territories and the rest of my life.
To stay connected.
Sauvage Taïga is a notebook.
A place where I leave what mattered.
What you will find here
Walks.
Cold.
Silence.
Failures.
Sometimes beauty.
Sometimes just fatigue.
No method.
No lesson.
Only fragments of a life spent, from time to time, a little closer to reality.
There are places that serve no purpose.
That is why they are indispensable.