By The Chance Of A Bottle. Manu Bodin

p>Manu Bodin

      By the Chance of a Bottle

Manu BodinBy the chance of a bottleShort storyTranslated from French by Aline Nicolai

      The biggest journeys are made up of small things.

      By the chance of a bottle

      I had a goal that I wanted to reach more than anything, except that the reality that I was living in every day and in which I confused myself made it seem idyllic only in my dreams. I had nevertheless tried different methods to make it a reality: dating apps, small ads, a drink in the bars when a guy accosted me, clubs… Only the result was always the same: adventures or very short stories presented themselves to me. And this resulted in the same thing… I was far from my expectations. I had already started to put the project of a serious love creation aside when an unexpected event occurred.

      One beautiful, end of summer day at the beginning of September, everything changed. I had just arrived in France a few days prior. I was leaving behind me, in Russia, my mother, who lived alone. She was overjoyed by my opportunity to go overseas while at the same time, saddened at the departure of her only daughter. We were now separated by two thousand five hundred kilometers. She, in the Caucasus territories. Me, in the PACA region.

      I benefited from a bursary from the French government to continue my engineering studies. Nevertheless, I didn’t know, in that instant, what attracted me to France. I had never left Russia. I only knew of the country that which I had seen in images or videos. I wanted a change of scenery, a change of air, to live a different experience, to confront a new culture; a general desire to freshen up my life. I had no contacts in this country which seemed to me a mysterious land. I was disembarking in virgin territory with no landmarks and where a new universe would be built.

      Upon my arrival in Paris, I would have wanted to linger in the streets multiple days to contemplate the monuments. I was missing the budget to stay in a hotel or to even rent a modest room. Reluctantly, I had to differ visiting the city, leaving it to a future occasion.

      I roamed near the Lyon train station until the next morning. I was awaiting the departure of the first TGV towards Aix-en-Provence.

      I had to wait another five days before the beginning of my classes. I Took advantage of the time to explore the area. I went all the way to Marseille to admire the sea.

      The wind was cool, the air pleasant. A feeling of revival overwhelmed me there, as if I was perched at a tip of the world. Travelling in another country, I had dreamt of it. I strolled through France, the experience was pleasant.

      At the bend of a wild beach, I glimpsed a glass recipient with a piece of paper inside it. The container was stuck between two rocks. I had just stumbled upon a real message in a bottle! So some people actually did use this form of “communication” that I had only seen in movies. What strange message could it contain? The neck of the bottle was covered in a thick layer of paraffin that seemed to create a hermetic protection around the cork and thus prevented water from getting inside. However hard I tried to scrape at it, nothing happened. My nails would have given way if I had continued to try to open it with such a method.