In twenty years time poem Lannion, Saint-Malo fifteen and five Achères, I always kept the desire to examine, in the manner of Commissaire Maigret when he wants to include all costs that the murderer will stop. I understand where the courage to face Boualem Sansal both the Islamists and the Algerian government totally corrupt. Where does the name Claude Vigée – life, I – it took for viaticum when entering the resistance in 1939. Where did the smile Azouz Begag qu’assombrit sometimes a drop of melancholy. Where does the capacity Seyhmus Dagtekin and Björn Larsson to change the language as you change horses at the border. Where is the peace that emanates from the violence of Christmas poems Bernard. Where are the warm voice of Fulani Souleymane Diamanka and those captivating Benat Achiary, Yann-Fañch Kemener and Maram al-Masri. Where does our sense of levitation when we listen to edge, move the fragile breath in the middle of François Cheng empty. How is it that we are hurt by the distress that was great journalist Gilles Courtemanche and whose book A Sunday at the pool in Kigali has toured the world.
[from the introduction of Yvon Le Men]