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BA Languages and European Studies graduate from the University of Portsmouth 2007

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Christian Sabin, extrait de «La Folle allure»

They whispered about Sister Adrienne, of her rosy yet gloomy tales that were sometimes bestow upon her life. A lover, a long time awaited, a long time hoped for, decapitated in a car accident, for the day when he would make to her his declaration.

During the week at dawn Sister Adrienne paid her respects at the scene of the disaster and contemplated at length every detail of the landscape.

At the end of the week she discovered an engagement ring in the ditch, white gold in a box of green nettles. In the evening she entered the country church and slid the ring on to the finger of the Virgin Mary’s plaster statue.

A month later she knocked on the door of a convent. I like this beautiful story. She reminded me of the things that I used to find the eyes of my darling.

Sister Adrienne was the sweetest person, who never had a bad word to say about anybody. When she overheard our night-time gossiping, she would not reprimand us but she would watch us smiling.

She would accept a sweet or slice of bread and pâté and a glass of cider. We often organised picnics with the supplies that the girls would bring back from their homes. OR
She would accept a sweet or slice of bread and pâté and a glass of cider. On Mondays the girls would bring back supplies from their homes, with which we often organised picnics. OR
She would accept a sweet or slice of bread and pâté and a glass of cider from the supplies that the girls would bring back from their homes, with which we often organised picnics.

She would then set off again, we never waited for her to arrive as secretive as she was of her comings as of her goings. She would glide a few millimetres above the ground as if two little fluttering wings were hidden beneath her grey cotton dress.