Except to let yourself be locked up in some artificial tourist paradise,
it is almost impossible that the somewhat thorough frequentation of any humid tropical region
does not leave any deep traces in your mind.
It is probably difficult today to imagine what was the surprise, vertiginous and radical,
of the first European invaders who landed in Southern America,
confronted with a world of which they knew nothing
and not even its existence.
However, we must not despair of anything, especially not of the tropics...
A few steps in the countryside or the forests of the West Indies,
will quickly convince the European walker
- assuming he still has working legs and arms, as well as accurate eyes and ears -
that he may sudddenly fall upon the presence of a good number of species
animal and even more vegetal ones of which he knew nothing,
and of which it is not always certain that they have a name other than local and very vernacular.
Thus, as far as I am concerned, the entirely auditory encounter with the Sifleur des Montagnes
in the heights of the Pitons du Carbet in Martinique.
How to imagine that a bird may sing a sequence of a good ten notes,
like a flute player rehearsing in the depths of the forest 10 kilometers from any habitation?
So too with this Physalia, a sailing jellyfish with formidable venom,
also called Portuguese Galera, a mauve and pink thing,
washed up on an isolated strand in the south-east of Martinique
and that, given my solitude, my very long lonely walk and the strangeness of the place,
I was for a brief moment not very far from taking for an extra-terrestrial being.
Don't smile. There has never been any human certainty
that was not ultimately founded based on the consensus of the whole species.
It was therefore inevitable that Rik Lina's unconscious,
like mine or that of anyone else who still pays any attention to the world,
was irretrievably colonized by the tropical side of the world.