As a child, I once swallowed the soft colours of my island.

My grand mother was seated on the sofa, and sewing pieces of cloths altogether.

The Polynesian patchwork was telling me the story of a Legend, there was a shark, a coconut tree, a dancing woman and the shadow of my island.

As a child, I once swallowed the soft colours of my Fenua. Fenua is such a magnet-land that attracts all the Natives who go away. You can NEVER leave you native land, once you swallowed its soft colours. They dissolve slowly into your blood, they flow along your heart, they touch you until you can smell the perfume of gardenia flowers.

Blessed are all the people of my island, who once swallowed its soft colours. Colours so soft that they caress your eyes and let you hope. The rain is a shower curtain blurring a little those soft colours, but not for too long though. My grand mother was seated there, and she was sewing pieces of cloths altogether, letting me know that I was one colour matching others. Polynesian artworks mixes different colours, absorbs what makes our life joyful: breadfruit tree, pineapple, plants and leaves drawing all over, sewed in soft colours.

As an adult, if you are bound to leave my native land, those soft colours come back to you, when you close your eyes. If you remember the perfume of the gardenia flower, you can remember also your grandmother, and survive all way through, walking on the path of the unknown.

Blessed are all the people of my island, who once swallowed its soft colours.