Biography

Carmen Bramly is fifteen years old. She is a student at the Lycee Fenelon in Paris. She writes stories and poems from a very early age.

I look at my watch, trying to get lost in the movement of the seconds. I will not be early. Five or ten minutes late. Pierre will begin to grow impatient and will be even happier to see me.

I walk up and down, fall down on my bed, get up and continue to pace. Then I go back to the bathroom, put on a drop of perfume and lipstick, that I remove immediately. It is too feminin, I replace it with lip gloss.

In the bathroom, my parents are getting ready. I hear the sound of my father's razor and pschitt of the cologne spray that mother puts in her bra, then the sound of her lips as she spreads the red lipstick which she has smeared on them. The extreme attention that I have always paid to these barely perceptible sounds has eventually given me an almost animal like hearing.

Another look at my watch. It is time. I kiss my parents, wish them in advance, a happy new year, good health, all that crap that we say on January 1st. They recommend me to cover up well. I nod while putting on a lightweight cotton jacket. Outside, a flurry of biting cold hits my face, spreading to my whole body, shock waves, a cloud of chills. I mount my bike and pedal as fast as possible.

"This is the last night of the year. On the island of Bréhat, Paloma, fourteen, joins Peter, her childhood friend, to celebrate the New Year they have not seen each other for a year, the girl has changed and their relationship has to be remade." (Introduction by the editor)

"Her book relates Paloma's throes of love, 14 years old. She is on vacation on the island of Bréhat, a few hours from the New Year. Like any teenager, she must make a difficult choice: should she put on her old black Converse shoes or a pair of turquoise platform soles? However, the very young novelist avoids certain pitfalls and saves the reader from blunt scenes. What happened I would not say. I hate crude details that become quickly shabby, words should not describe what I myself can not define. You must well imagine that we made "love", the term suits me because it is a feeling that is put into motion." (Le Figaro.fr)