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160 pages, Paperback
Published January 1, 2024
It will soon be three years since that first meeting. It will soon be three years that I have been looking for the way to write this book. To get closer to what happened to them without hurting them, without adding pain to pain. But also certain that I must complete what I have undertaken. That I must go to the end of this attempt to understand their story.
It's weird: the lies people tell children.
Often children pretend to believe the stories they are told to reassure the adults. To give themselves a little peace and quiet too. It is that, if children show adults that they are not fooled by their spiel, grown-ups hasten to patch up their lies and plug the cracks, finally to create even bigger fibs. This prospect discourages children in advance. Because if the adults overdo it, if they push things a little too far, the children feel obliged to protest (you shouldn't take them for idiots anyway) and the matter becomes even more painful. It is usually to spare themselves all of this that children pretend to believe the lies of adults. This story of the big house where her mother was resting up, Flavia knew very well that it was not true. But when her father would say to her: "We'll go to see your mother where she's resting," she would reply: "Yes, let's go and see Mama there."

