Inspired by Johan Barthold Jongkind (1819-1891) – The harbour of Honfleur, low tide, with boats stranded on the sand (September 12, 1864) – 4,37 x 6,81 inch

It’s the story of four boys, wind-swept hair, just eighteen, a Saturday night on earth.

The nightclub will soon close doors. Too bad, they were having a good time. No girls tonight. On the other hand, they drank bottles after bottles of whiskey and vodka. They’re used to it. Even their body gave up reacting, it lets them go on. Boys will be boys. Yet, one of them has already had an alcoholic coma two months ago and another has cardiac arrhythmia. But they are young, the future is far ahead of them. There’s simply no excuse for not wearing any of it. Once six feet under, it will be too late to have fun, much too late.

They are the last ones to leave the place. The boss, a friend of their parents, confiscated their car keys. Scrap monsters that may well become their graves. No need to take thoughtless risks. So, the boy’s band joined the pretty little port of Honfleur completely asleep at 6 am on a Sunday morning, on foot. The boys stagger, jostle, scream in the streets. With a little luck, a grumpy man will call 911 and they will end their night out behind bars.

At last, the beach and a few boats in dry docks, bending on the side, almost falling. The view is beautiful, no wind, no noise, no soul except the four mates. Leaning against a hull, changing maps. Completely blind to the beauty of nature in front of them, the young men can hardly have a conversation now. One of them doesn’t feel very well, so he moves a few yards away from the slumped group and reaches the waterfront. Leaning a little forward, the others could still see him. But one fell asleep, another one is trying to roll a cigarette trembling with both hands like a leaf and swearing loud, the third one is laughing foolishly.

What about the fourth buddy? His head is driving him mad, he can’t think clearly and it’s being going on for several hours now. Refresh his face. Yes, good idea. Except that … he slips head first and loses consciousness … definitively.