Margueritte is mom's unexpressed heart

Michel 2022-11-06 20:42:05

Maybe, she always said bad things to him, but maybe she just didn't know how to face him;
maybe, she would complain or even beat him, but she would never allow others to touch him with a finger;
maybe, she was in his eyes Just a big smoker, but he would never allow others to speak ill of her;
maybe, she hated him all her life, but they loved each other deeply without knowing it.
She is his mother, and he is her son. The wonderful thing about blood ties is that no matter how many flaws there are, even if they survive, they can't get rid of the fetters.
The presence of Margueritte is a stark contrast.
That is gentle and lively, although old but still elegant. People who have experienced a lot are always able to get along with others more tolerantly. It is a coincidence and a blessing to meet Germain.
"Listening itself is also a kind of reading". Books are an opportunity for communication, and it is what opens up Germian's heart.
Margueritte is actually the other side of Mom that doesn't show. Before being Germian's mother, she was a woman.
If she meets a man who can make her happy, if she can play the role of a wife in a normal family, she must also want to use all means to love her children.
His mother died and left him a house he always thought was a rented house. She cared about him, but couldn't express it, so she chose the other extreme to release her suppressed emotions.
Germain eventually finds Margueritte, who has moved, and brings her to live with him, his girlfriend, and his unborn child.
Perhaps this is God's order to appease the lonely mother for a lifetime, or perhaps God heard the mother's wishes for the child and gave Geimain a complete home after her death.
In love stories, there is more than just love. This kind of story, love is more profound.

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My Afternoons with Margueritte quotes

  • Germain Chazes: It's not a typical love affair, but love and tenderness, both are there. Named after a daisy, she lived amongst words, surrounded by adjectives in green fields of verbs. Some force you yield to. But she, with soft art, passed through my hard shield and into my heart. Not always are love stories just made of love. Sometimes love is not named but it's love just the same. This is not a typical love affair I met her on a bench in my local square. She made a little stir, tiny like a bird with her gentle feathers. She was surrounded by words, some as common as myself. She gave me books, two or three Their pages have come alive for me. Don't die now, you've still got time, just wait It's not the hour, my little flower Give me some more of you. More of the life in you Wait Not always are stories just made of love Sometimes love is not named. But it's love just the same.