The project " The soil of the earth " could be reduced into one sentence.
Bringing together soils from all over the world, melting them in order to have just one and returning its virginal state from before the beginning of the world, before history and geography.
Transforming this impossible dream, this chimera by giving it body.
Finally, being able to say, even for a small moment of time, it was possible for this dream to become reality without any programs, claims, tricks, justifications, ownership, politics and without ulterior motive. This earth, fed with blood and sweat, being the sole victim of our lust, would give birth not to a daily grief but to a moment of joy, brotherhood beyond dogmas and religions. With this crazy hope that our lives belong only to ourselves.
Our great leaders look like builders who always have their hands cleaned, raising " Arcs de Triomphe " on the road of shame, building an endless slaughter-house which should be our purgatory; and for that they always get as many arms as they need.
It may be that human nature is to spread its vanity all over the world, repeating the same pains, winning over chaos with huge contortions.
History only stammers having difficulty in finding it's way towards tranquillity.
Our untied tongues could maybe recover their speech and taste new moments of life.
In no case, do I want to proselytise and unfortunately do not have any solutions to save the world from its misery.
For " the soil of the Earth ", I only claim a poetic gesture, a modest work that does not expect either a trophy or a medal, like an handful of sand threw into the wind. One more tiny step toward a quest of sense.
"voyage intérieur"
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