“I grew up as many children of divorced parents of my generation: my younger brother and I lived with our mother and saw our father every two weekends and during the middle of the school holidays. I lived in Paris and we used to make the trips of 300 kilometers.
My father had many love things with women, and he hid anything; In fact, I would only say that nothing saved us. I remember a week during the holiday of all saints, when my brother and I went to stay with him. He lived in an apartment with a 25 square meter study that had hardly any space for us. That week, we sneak in a different place every night. We were like small packages that attended.
When I was a young teenager, I had been seeing a woman for some time that she had a daughter of my age. Assumed that we would be friends. But this girl made me very anxious. She was terrible hostile and aggressive with me. I think it was jealous because the family situation was complicated; It seemed to be suffering from great psychological problems. But that was the youngest of my father’s concerns; He thought it was a good idea to register for a summer camp together. It was so difficult and painful for me that I went before it ended.
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