#pierrickservais

The reason children all want to become astronauts is that they want to get away from this place they’ll have to stay in all their lives.

Then they grow up, forget aboout the NASA because of a bad mark in maths, listen to black metal and throw up after drinking beer sold in 30 packs. They hate themselves without really knowing why. High school teaches them failure, humiliation, cigarettes and suicide. Those who pass their exams ruin themselves on Whisky-coke.

Eventually the sun casts more light on their path, they catch a better glimpse of the future, and see there is none.  They psychanalyse themselves, finding out that everything is not just their fault.

So they get interested in politics, an other world is possible; to change it would be so cool. They buy T-shirts with red stars on and find the word “revolution” very appealing. It looks like “revolver”, but especially like “evolution”. They stop eating McDonald’s food, refuse to be French, stop watching the weather forecast.

Anyway tomorrow it’s sure to rain.

Doubt mingles with their attempts, ineviatbly vain attempts. Why change the world, since it’s going to explode. And then, they realize that having a cold beer with a brunette isn’t so bad after all. A girl’s glance is worth more than a foregone lost fight. Love not war; that type of bullshit.

We shout at the society once last bloody time and we resell our El Che poster. The girl becomes our wife, the cold beer becomes our belly. We cram into a furnished flat we’ll have to pay for. A job, then a car, with central locking and optional air-conditioning. We save up for Christmas and a bit of sun on the beach.

We become fat, ugly, bitter. The little brats stop playing on our lawn, and we remember that, before, we used to have plans. We remember... We were young, full of ideas, all that for nothing. Because now, we wait, like everybody, for our TV program.

So, before dying, we go to see our grandson. He wants to become an astronaut. Become one, it’s your only chance.