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It took Fabrice Colin die for me read what he wrote. I have a rule never to read this qu'écrivent my friends (they are writers or tickle the pen), we avoid the lengthy discussions sterile on the merits of our respective styles and small latent jealousies on various successes that accompany us or we part company. I knew that Fabrice was pinching for the written word, and was engaging in "fantasy". But the dragons and fairies always deeply bothered me. For me, this infantile stage of literature is not worth three Freudian cigar. No, with Fabrizio, we had any other relationships. And let's face it, a common passion. A good thing to us that nobody knew who we delighted, both by its singularity that because of the secrecy in which we wrapped it. Now that Andouille Fabrice has made the leap, I see no interest to conceal the thing. It will interest anyway not many people. Fabrizio and I had a passion for monocles. Envy had often teased us to start a collection, but funds were lacking, the time too. China was not our thing. So we had decided to create a collection of imaginary monocles. For each model, we developed a precise and enticing. When, during dinner, we exchanged a glance, it meant that something other than banal complicity. That meant: you like this model? or: you know it? Etc.. Fabrizio had a collection of monocles I managed to assess a hundred and sixty-seven articles. I had to start over, but he has bought dozens me when I needed money. It was like that, Fabrizio. I have many memories about the monocular. I remember the day he lost a monocle rare glass from the last workshops of Majorca, Palma horn mounts with integrated spring. He cried inside for days. I offered to console him, the inconsolable, an ivory model of matching pouch skin of merino. He would have liked to be buried with. But not burned, it's not. I was told today that if he entered the novel, he could become a master. I do not care. However, if Fabrice had hitched a general and comprehensive history of eyeglasses over the centuries, it would have shaken a lot of boards and dust. We would remember him as an expert Sc spectacles, period. "The eye and the good": this was our secret and common currency. I was asked to write the preface or foreword his texts that I read certainly not. I accepted, without joy nor pride. "A chimera as silky as that maintain our breaths in the invisible" - I quote Fabrizio in one of the few letters he wrote me to ask me essentially an exchange of monocles - "neither price nor posterity . I do not know if that is his style when it causes you elves and unicorns, and I beat the roubignoles. Nobody understood anything about Fabrice. One day, he said: "Cricket, you know, it'll do me good shit the day I should wear glasses. "Because, of course, there was no way he carries two 
monocles, eh ? What else to say again, that would interest readers hungry for stories where strut hilarious goblins and fairies badly corked? Ah yes, the day I announced I was going to Fabrice stop writing, he said, bluntly: "Cricket, if you keep writing I offer the Monocle Mysterious Middle of world. "Shit then, the quad M! Could not resist. I had dreamed of all my youth, this 4M. So I kept writing. Still bad, but good. And then one day I said to myself: good, will ask the friend what Fabrizio Legendary 4M. I got my phone. Nothing. Then two hours later, I received a call from some Katya, a girl who was working in the emergency I know which hospital. She cried. I do not know how she got my number. She said: "Your friend has burned. "It had the merit of being clear. I stayed a good hour sitting on my chair, phone in hand, the beep-beep-beep like a walrus emptied of meaning. I threw away my collection of monocles the toilet and I flushed. Obviously, it has blocked pronto. I was not going to call the plumber to unclog john qu'obstruaient imaginary stuff. Much to send a telex to a metaphysician. I moved. In Abyssinia, well see. Colin Read, yes, why not. If it makes you feel good. You will always be blind, and I a little orphan. Nobody can understand. Person. Monocles, Fabrice and what interest me ... today? If only we had been collecting matchbooks! You know, life is not what you think. The friendship either. The only thing that matters in the wind and storm, sulfur and ignorance is never panic. Never. 
Note: Obviously, Fabrizio is all that is most alive. This text is a preface written for the collection
Like ghosts - saved from fire stories, Electric Sheep, Lyon, 2008 ...
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