Aimé Michel

Le premier mystère est: pourquoi y a-t-il quelque chose plutôt que rien?
Et le deuxième, aussi grand que le premier: pourquoi suis-je là en train de penser?

The good old times

Atlas – Air France n°77 – November 1972
I adore children. Their logic, which is not yet warped by the vicissitudes of life, is faultless. They are capable of pushing it to its extreme limits. And that’s why I love the little dears, for I have always had a passion for good reasoning.
The other day, two of them arrived in the environs of my barrel and sat down on a garbage can to eat their bag of peanuts.
— They’re sure crazy, aren’t they, said one, throwing a handful of empty shells under the wheels of the passing cars. Lire l’article

A short treatise on meditation

Atlas – Air France n°76 – October 1972
People often ask me how I go about meditating (for it is obvious, isn’t it, that to spread so many interesting, piquant and profound stories around me, I must be in possession of a marvelous meditation technique, which in fact is the case). People who ask me for my recipe no doubt assume that I can divulge it without incurring the risk of competition. They are right. For philosophy is to meditation what a roast is to cooking: one can become a cook but one must be born a caterer in roast meats. The recipe is nothing; all is in the manner. Why then should I refuse my recipe? Here it is. Lire l’article

The Automibole

Atlas – Air France n°92 – February 1974
The automibole is that gasoline-burning contraption which everyone has been talking about lately. I’ll admit to you outright: I don’t like the automibole.
The other evening, Archiloques and I were seated on the sidewalk, peacefully meditating and watching the crazy throng of automiboles pass by, when suddenly one of them skidded on the pavement and swerved into the gutter, sending a gush of sticky blackish mud all over our feet. Lire l’article

How to Always Be Right

Atlas – Air France n°84 – June 1973
People who know me often request, with very understandable admiration, that I explain my extraordinary love for work.
It’s true that I love work more than anything in the world. Of all my virtues, modesty put aside, my love for work is the highest. It’s hard to believe that when I see someone working really well, I could look at him toiling from sunrise to sunset without ever tiring myself. Lire l’article

In Praise of Superstition

Atlas – Air France n°75 – September 1972
— Sir, said the gentleman, you made fun of me in one of your articles, and that is inadmissible.
— Ah! And why so?
It was the man with the hat, if you recall — the one who never stops putting his hat on and taking it off; which in fact he was doing at the very moment, while expressing his ill humor. Lire l’article