During the summer, the nature was in the spotlight during a writing workshop led by Francoise PIRART , Belgian writer (La Fortune des Sans-Avoir, The night of Sala ...) If I were a bird ? If I were a river? A blade of grass? And if we lived like savages lost in nature?
back in July, barley is already so beautiful!
The pebble in the hand, becomes swallow wrote the poet Maurice Lent.
Like him, we tell stories, invent them over water, over the words that lead us.
The 2, 4 and 5 July 2007, from 10 to 12 H
5 € or 2 € module sitting
Registration 068/27 20 May
5 children attended workshop: Bohemond (9 years), Evolène (12 years), Emma (9 years), Mailly (10 years) and Marie (9 years).
Here are some excerpts from their compositions:
"Yesterday, j 'I crossed the street a strange bird. His name was Freddy the Radishes. He dressed with the bearskin. His glasses were all broken, covered with earth. It was really a wimp, because he trembled before the kitten in the neighborhood. It gobait everything he said. He wrote with scrawl. He slept like a log and we would always shake his chips ... " (Bohemond)
" Yesterday, I crossed the street a strange bird. He had large eyes, small nose and above all a memory like an elephant. I asked him what his name and he said with a vexed air, Thunder the mud. In my head, I thought how this man and what a camel head! I told him he should not take offense so quickly ... " (Emma)
"Yesterday, I crossed the street a strange bird, it was Gaspar. The old gentleman who keeps the village flea market. Since the death of his wife, Maria, he drinks, smokes and sleeps like a log! For, in truth, Maria, he shook out the bullets. Now this old man of about fifty years goberait any fly. Yes, it is very nice but very naive. Without his woman, this old goat is sick as a horse ... " (Evolène)
