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Helios is finally back! After a few months’ absence, his presence is increasingly marked in recent weeks, and we gave an entire weekend to go heaven on his gilded carriage! Others called Amaterasu, Sol, Mithra, Utu, Shamash, Tonatiuh, Surya, or Atoum Belenos, but it is since the dawn of time of the same star of hydrogen and helium that warms us and we illuminates: the sun!

So far it is, his power is magical. Apart from the fact that it allows life and directs our weather, which is still not there, the appearances of the sun are always at the root of the phenomena it is good to know spot. The first feels so personal, often indescribable, and is often a feeling of well-being and joy mixed: light. A blue sky over the rooftops of Paris, the sun knocks on the windows and trying to invite you in, it’s a good crazy.

So as everyone, a small mechanism is triggered, we are turning it into zombie. First, rethinking his wardrobe. No more sweaters and gloves, placed the scarf and winter jacket. It appears this small polo makes us a body of dream, the top which makes us a star on vacation, this jean size bass that all the friends we envy or pantacourt we had grudgingly accepted last fall. It looks in the mirror, dressed as for the summer, and is known to lack something. Sunglasses, of course!

But the zombie-attitude does not stop there. As mût by an invisible force, a herd instinct climate, everyone is at the same place. Oh, not on major boulevards to show, no. Where there is life on the waterfront, in parks, on lawns. And there is the rush. The Parisian has been waiting months to be able to show, to brown a little calves become pâlichons over time, then there is no question that this does not take advantage. In this world of impermanence and uncertainty, doubt and anxiety you prefer to lay under the sun’s UV dice his first appearances. “You never know what tomorrow will be done,” you say aficionados. Some pictures later, he is in the box, ready to squatter your screen at work.

Then this weekend, if you live in Paris, we all probably crossed. The poor and youth on suburban lawns des Halles, artists and young left on the banks of the Canal St Martin, the bourgeois on the Pont des Arts, tourists in the epicenters usual. All gathered with friends around a good bottle and a little sausage, morale very high. Because no matter the location, age or origin: we were born and all live under the same star.