It was 7pm when Daddy threw a punch right into Crocheton’s face and when Crocheton clattered against the wall, his feet collapsing, his butt crashing down the paving. Sometimes this expression in his eyes reminds me of the one my mother has when she looks...

At present, the atmosphere is electric at home. It’s the beginning of the high-school end diploma for Crocheton. Poor dear. Daddy keeps saying he’s not studied enough. The first time he said that, it was at least two months ago. He doesn’t really know...

It's strange that nobody ever speaks about mother's handicap, not that I especially want to talk about it. But it's true that, only a little while ago at the table, I was looking at her and saying to myself "it's crazy" that this woman who brought me...

Oh dear God, I had that weird dream again. Some people say I’m not normal. Some people say I’m insane. The psychologist from school, she says I’m not. Anyway, I shouldn’t tell my dream to any of those people. Even though, if I’m actually mad, I don’t...

At base I must be good, I think. Doubtlessly yes. And yet it’s not what everybody says. Old Goimain Mother for example, that’s not what she says. She rather says that I am the son of the devil, this bitch. Oh well, I don’t give a damn; she’s just a crone....

Today, June 1st, 2005, I’m 15. Try to understand what this information means. It means that my parents must have conceived me between Thursday 24th and Wednesday 30th of August, 1989. French Revolution Bicentenary. A sign ? Maybe not. It seems to me though...