Sparks fly from a crib cut from a mattress of greenery with the Pyrenees as its headboard. A cocoon located in the depths of the Basque Country, right at the entrance to Irouléguy, a small village very close to Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port (Pyrénées-Atlantiques). In the distance, the Pic de Béhorléguy casts its piercing gaze over the region punctuated by the beat of an oval balloon. Surrounding the beautiful house stretched over the hillside, neatly trimmed meadows.
The echo of a frenzied rugby game from a bunch of insatiable kids still echoes there. It’s Sunday, November 16th and there’s a calm atmosphere. The kids have grown up. They have left this house but still call them back as soon as possible. The mother smiled. “They live their lives,” he slips. It’s true that we tell ourselves that it’s a bit empty now. »
