Ranger

Like putting things away before disappearing. I'm going to write for Jacques Weber, not him in real life, but him because he's always been there, that immense, humble actor humble, curious and who became my friend, my brother before, during and after _Architecture_ in the Cour d'honneur of the Palais des Papes in Avignon. In the evenings, we'd go home around 3 a.m. after the run-throughs and performances. We'd come home together and talk into the summer night like happy children, then say goodbye in front of a sublime wisteria. Oh, wisteria in summer, and I'd say to her: I'm going to write _Ranger_ for you. It's going to be about this man who tidies up his things, his life, before he disappears. He rents a hotel room and goes through all the sorrows and joys, grief and love, everything, before lying down and taking what he needs and leaving the door open so that what helps us to die can curl up. (P. R.)_