There are books that change us a little, we will try a different person after reading. Not much, but significantly. As an additional connection to a certain philosophy. This novel / fable / story is part of me. I seldom read anything so pathetic (but not pathos), romantic (but not inane). A man finds himself raising his little 6 year old boy alone following the death of his wife. He regrets for not having done enough for her. He is afraid of the future and not live up to his son. Everything is difficult for this man who is more sensitive that a deficient memory and anxieties that prohibiting him a normal life. He decides to write a novel that his son knows his missing mother. Full of fantasy and poetry, he imagines a world where Archevie dead remain as we speak and we think of them. and one day, his wife appears Argh ... I stop there but this story is so beautiful that I would tell it to the end .... This is a beautiful novel, at once light and serious, which also suggests itself affectionately to some of our missing and relativize what is thought to have missed or not. A small excerpt? "I was a penguin flying in the sky. I had to follow him high up to unexpected heights. I'd close stars. And up there, dirty and ugly things that clutter the Earth, all the things that trouble the heart looked like a beautiful tapestry. It was happiness. Then she disappeared, and I am once an ordinary penguin. Sadness visited me, but I still had memories of the sky, and a little boy who looked a lot like this woman with wings that cleft the air. In other words, I had become a reasonably happy penguin, sometimes with sadness. "
