There is someone. This time I'm sure there is someone else on this island, and this person is beckoning me.
It was this morning that I saw them. I was entering the clearing to pick some fruit, my only food when I could not fish, when I saw them. I mentioned their presence immediately. I come here every day and I'm sure, yesterday there was nobody. Nothing apart from those fruits that hang from the branches of a lean tree, they look like beans. And then this blinding white wall, which seems to taunt me, as if to remind me that the best thing here is a nothingness.
Oh, these are small objects. Could fit in the palm of your hand. But I didn’t dare to try. Their presence was so surprising, on the flat rock where they were laid, that I found them immense. Especially one of them-there were five of them in all-rising to the sky. It looked like a lingam as we see in India. Except this one, others were hollow, open, like a shelter. It reassured me. I told myself that the one who was making signs was not trying to make me run away. I stayed for a long time watching them. Finally, I thought…
These are all of them: all five, well aligned. It reminded me the table at my grandparents house, long-long time ago. So I sat down and watched, resisting to my desire to touch. May be tomorrow, if they still will be here….It’s funny, I have the impression that the one who designed them did everything to get it. One looked like a bowl, the other a dish, but it was neither a bowl nor a dish, just things that seemed to me to say, "Take me in hand, do not be afraid. I'm still a little scared but it's true that all these handles, all these protuberances, are a call to the seizure. Are these fetishes?
I left with my fruits but I told myself that tomorrow morning I will come back with the piece of burnt wood that I picked up on the beach where I woke up. With him I can make a trace on the white wall, like a scar. A sign to say that yes, there is someone.