At the same time, 18 is the age to love so much, to tremble all over, to cry without restraint, without shame too. He is right, Romeo, to make fun of looks, of what will be said, and in any case, he is not alone entirely turned towards Thibaut Pinot whom he has just seen pass in the bend which bears his name, carried by a demented and overwhelming crowd. Romeo realizes that a piece of life has just slipped away at full speed, that nothing will be as before, that the void is already widening, very slowly, without him being able to stop the extra minutes. “I was 8 when he debuted, I’m 18, he blurted out, broken. All my adolescence, I lived it with Thibaut. It was Thibaut’s last real stage. »
Thibaut Pinot and his supporters, a last round of trance at the Petit Ballon
