Oil on canvas – 11,81 x 11,81 inch – Unique work

Chouni came home late this evening. He had to do. For his first day of school, he had to teach the rules of life to all the new arrivals. All these little guys, impatient, worried, lively, curious but also disrespectful. It was urgent for the great teacher to immediately establish his authority and expectations for the coming year. They were all so funny with their crumpled faces, their round cheeks, their chubby hands, their greasy thighs, their unsteady walks. They looked like a bunch of kids at their very first entry into the big league.

This is Chouni’s favorite moment. The discovery of each person’s character, individual talent, collective brightness he particularly fancies. He puts his body and soul into a long moralizing speech, he had practised for decades. Because he is the boss now. And he intends to make it loud and clear. But now as he gets old, as death would do with his scythe, this exercise becomes more and more difficult. No matter what he does, no matter what he says.

Chouni has crossed the threshold of his humble home, literally exhausted. He then sat at his table in a dark corner of his tiny kitchen. Leaning on the working plan, a hand struggling to support his head, which is now too heavy to carry itself, he sips a sulphurous cocktail of which he holds the secret. His own sin. Of course, there’s others, and maybe that one too, or that one, he forgot about it!

Chouni daydreams, changes maps all by himself, thinks of his little students, still amazed by their future work, their intact illusions. What a joy to be there for their babbling. He loves their questioning smiles, their legitimate doubts, their ancestral anxieties. So much innocence, so much sweetness, so much fear too. What if they weren’t to meet their expectations? What if they were wrong? What if they overestimated themselves? So he must spend time reassuring them, arming them, hardening them, challenging them! So he has to believe it for all of them together, all those little angels, dear to his heart.

Chouni suddenly collapses in a sigh that whispers imperceptibly: “I feel so tired …”.