Sun rise over McLeod Ganj The water heater woke me up. I opened my eyes. It wasn't day light yet, though it was possible to see very distinctly in the room, as the eastward curtains had remained entirely open. Over a wall of bird calls, ravens and frogs...

Early morning at McLeod Ganj Early morning bird songs were broken by an unusual process, though not unfamiliar. Not unfamiliar because it reminded me of readings of Alphonse DAUDET, a French writer who depicts in a very sensorial fashion his discovery...

Chacun construit son identité... J'ai la chance d'être le père ou l'oncle direct de 25 jeunes de moins de 30 ans, qui, à leur tour, s'inscrivent progressivement dans la vie professionnelle et parentale, dans un monde qui s'est considérablement élargi...