“The little black and white photograph and with serrated edges shows a young boy in an almost deserted street. In the distance, there are barely two people sitting in front of the steps of a house. The child has a hand on the handlebars With a wooden scooter. One of the suspenders of his overalls fell from his shoulder. He wears a white shirt whose sleeves are rolled up to the top of the elbows. He seems intrigued by something he observes out. -This an insect, an anthill, a cat? I don’t know. I don’t remember. This little boy is me. In blue ink, at the bottom of the image, someone , undoubtedly my father, wrote “Goulette May 56”. Seeing the dilapidated state of the street, I wonder how a scooter could roll there. La Goulette is a small town located about ten kilometers from Tunis. My mother told me that it was there that we were going through our vacation. It seems that families made a real exodus in summer, loading cars and trucks by almost all their house to furnish their vacancy rentals.
In 1956, I was four years old. I come back to this photograph that I have always kept with me since I rediscovered it. Did I know that a month later I will be on a plane that would take me to Marseille and that after this stage my family would settle forever in Paris?
Did I hear my parents talking about it? “[…] M.S.