Tribute to Firmin, my friend, my brother-in-arms. Tribute to your imagination, your rebellion
Firmin, Taf, SuperTaf, my friend – but also father, brother, the one who left no-one indifferent – has gone. Not so far away since, one day or another, we’ll join him.
This damned life which unites us all at the end like a flock of sheep going back to the fold.
You didn’t like being one of the flock, Taf, you the rebel, the flame, the free spirit of the village. Like any real artist, you didn’t do anything like the rest of us, and true, like them, you weren’t understood by everyone.
You fought to the end with all your qualities. But we know that whatever we do we can’t escape it.
Yet even then you surprised is: a few days before your demise you you went around to all the squares you liked so much, to say goodbye to all the people you knew. Not just out of love but also politeness. If only that could silence the people who saw only the rougher side of your personality.
And that’s why today there are so many of us who have come to show their respects. Your big mouth hid a huge heart.
Thank you, Firmin. You’ll be missed at the café terraces.