All that my mother was to me... and that I would have liked to be to my daughter

She always wears make-up while driving. Or at the café, or on the street. To go to the market, she puts on long dresses and sunglasses, gladioli in her big basket. She looks like an actress. I looked at her, I looked at her so much. And I liked what I saw so much. My mother's body.

This generation that drove without a seatbelt, smoked cigarettes in the car, went swimming and sunbathed topless. Bodies drunk with sun and speed, exposed to the eyes and the elements. Who went through life with their feet on the ground, without fear or reproach, without fear of the slightest judgment.

She always wears make-up while driving. Or at the café, or on the street. To go to the market, she puts on long dresses and sunglasses, gladioli in her big basket. She looks like an actress. I looked at her, I looked at her so much. And I liked what I saw so much. My mother's body.

This generation that drove without a seatbelt, smoked cigarettes in the car, went swimming and sunbathed topless. Bodies drunk with sun and speed, exposed to the eyes and the elements. Who went through life with their feet on the ground, without fear or reproach, without fear of the slightest judgment.

The body as a vessel, crossed by sensations. The step more supple, the head higher.

This is what my mother showed me. This is what I want for my daughter.

Let her also dart forward, let her body occupy all possible space. Let it skip a generation, if necessary.

The body as a vessel, crossed by sensations. The step more supple, the head higher.

This is what my mother showed me. This is what I want for my daughter.

Let her also dart forward, let her body occupy all possible space. Let it skip a generation, if necessary.

She plays in the sand. Her sweet skin in the shade of the parasol. The indifference to looks. The abandonment in her still chubby legs and arms. Yes, this freedom, this very freedom. This link between my daughter and my mother. This joyful and solar hedonism. To which I gave a name so as never to lose her: Birdie. My declaration of love and gratitude to them both. My way of honouring their playful and greedy spirit. Birdie for all the petrolheads who will also feel the wind, the speed and the sun.

She plays in the sand. Her sweet skin in the shade of the parasol. The indifference to looks. The abandonment in her still chubby legs and arms. Yes, this freedom, this very freedom. This link between my daughter and my mother. This joyful and solar hedonism. To which I gave a name so as never to lose her: Birdie. My declaration of love and gratitude to them both. My way of honouring their playful and greedy spirit. Birdie for all the petrolheads who will also feel the wind, the speed and the sun.