imagine. it’s the early-mid 1900s. you live in normandy, france.
you were 20 years old once, you were young once. you were a foolish lovebird once, in the middle of a raging world war: when you met the person who would become your partner, you talked and talked, into the late hours of the night.
about poetry, among other things. they say that their favorite poem is « chanson d’automne. » such a basic one, you think, but you stay silent. they say it’s so full of emotion. in your head, you laugh. such a simple poem! how could it be full of emotion? but you are so in love, so so in love, so still you don’t say anything.
soon, you get married. the war is finally over, so you celebrate with the first feast you’ve had in four years. they say they’ve never had meat so tender, or wine so fine. drunk, you recite « chanson d’automne » and for the first time ever, you don’t look down on it, not even a bit.
and ten years pass, then twenty. you fight, yes, and bicker and tease, but you can’t help but think you have the best partner in the whole world. as you’ve grown older together, you begin to appreciate the simplicity of their poem. now you understand why it’s so popular, now you understand why your partner loves it so. now you understand them, too, all the better. months pass, and things seem only to improve in your life.
to your horror, another world war. your town is soon occupied by the german nazis. you live in constant fear, but you don’t let fear run your life: you write poems to each other on ripped pieces of paper, whisper things in the dark, stay close to each other when one of you becomes afraid.
the war lasts for more than four years. by now, it’s halfway through 1944, and it doesn’t seem to be getting any better. you avoid the radio and the news, as it would only discourage you.
but one day, your curiosity gets the better of you. you tune into the forbidden radio, the BBC one.
“…blessent mon cœur d’une longeur monotone.” a scratchy voice announces. you must have missed the first line, but that’s alright. your eyes light up.
“listen,” you whisper to your partner. they are already listening. “chanson d’automne, your favorite! they were reading our minds!” and you look at each other’s eyes and hold each other tight and fall in love all over again.
you do not know that two days later, the allies will land in normandy. you do not know that your partner will die during the battles that followed. you do not know that the next week you spend together will be the last week of their life.
