Nadia Comaneci, his great soul sister, his silent fellow, his model of strength and fragility, Lola Lafon restores all ambivalence. Both motor and victim, subject and object, the athlete ahead, again and again, "carnivorous plant hazards that must feed her [...], it nibbles the impossible, ranks him aside to make way for Then, still later. "Now it happened one day that is after a large sinkhole. She who never fell sank into anonymity after being shredded by those who carried it to the skies. The strength of Lola Lafon is to introduce imperceptible holes in his story, superimposing them disappearance of areas, transparent, empty. She staggers slowly behind his muse, "somnambulist of his own childhood," and the book splits the mist of the forfeiture with exemplary modesty and soundness. A destiny emerges, terribly moving, that of a teenager that would freeze in innocence. But Lola Lafon keeps repeating, Nadia Comaneci was a little squirrel, unable to keep still. Written like a scroll that is happening under the counter, a full strength rant hidden meanings, La Petite Communist who never smiled puts beside the communist dictatorship of yesterday and the capitalist asphyxiation today denounced the absurdity of leaving prison for another: Before, people had "constantly afraid, yes, afraid we may hear the forbidden things, today, we can all say, congratulations, only nobody hears us. "
Lola Lafon questions the silence, suggests the muffled cries of those who have swapped a gag order against another. His word is gold, and proves that untied languages always triumph, they trace their letters in the air, the tips of the toes, or on paper, loving freedom.