So I’m forcing myself, after abandoning you for a few days, I’m giving you some news, a bit like the only time I went to a holiday camp, in the Vercors, and my mother gave me stamped addressed envelopes for the entire family, with instructions to write to all my uncles, aunties, and cousins.

So then, if it’s compulsory …

Dear all,

I’m still in Corsica.

Everything’s fine, I am enjoying myself, I have lots of friends.

And I’m in love. Since the day before yesterday.

With a dolphin fisherman. I think of him all the time.

He doesn’t know. He will never know. He will never love me.

Perhaps he will love my mother instead.

My life is nothing but one big misunderstanding.

Otherwise everything is fine.

Love and kisses.

Clo.

Yes, I know, it’s short. Apologies!

For two days now, ever since I met Natale, ever since my heart has rocked to the rhythm of his boat, I’ve distanced myself slightly from the tribe of teenagers and all their tribulations. I see Maria-Chjara walking by in the distance, it’s weird, she’s painted her buttocks blue, the colour of denim, just down to where her thighs start, with pockets, a fly, fringes, it’s incredibly realistic, you’d think it was real fabric, except that isn’t possible, because I don’t see how she could have got her pretty little bottom into such tiny, tiny shorts, as tight as a second skin … All the guys are following her about like stray dogs, like they can’t help themselves, sniffing around after her … Maria-Chjara keeps an eye on them in her little rear-view mirror, and plays at being Thumbelina, scattering bras and knickers around the big forest, like a tracking game for her army of suitors, her dozen or so starving little ogres.

Maria-Chjara still hasn’t lost her virginity, but she’s told everyone she’s getting back on the plane to Bari on 25 August, and has confirmed that she will lose her cherry before she reaches the runway. That’s in six days’ time. What a way of cranking up the temperature in the heads of those little males being driven crazy by their hormones.

You want my opinion? My favourite, the one who’s a whole length ahead of everyone, is the one who’s running the slowest. Who’s letting the others tire themselves out. My brother Nicolas! I’m taking bets. He’s the one that Maria-Chjara is going to choose. When the time comes. She knows. He knows. It’s making my brother a bit too proud. Borderline arrogant. Borderline jerk.

But I’m not objective.

I’m in love.

I want to see Natale again. I want him to take me on board. I want him to notice me.