l am a pirate's daughter / They call me the buccaneer lass / l love the wind / l love the swell / l slice through the sea / as through a throng / A throng, a throng / Quickly, quickly, my pretty ship / We will give 'em all the slip / And sail to San Francisco / Going by Valparaiso / To the Aleutian lsles / Across the lndian Sea / l want to go / to the end of the world / To see if the earth is round / l'll let no one pass me by / l'll never, never give way / l always sail in a straight line / As light and white as a swan / A swan, a swan
Solene Conte D’Ete Eric Rohmer 1996
Before visiting Bretagne my only encounter with it was through the cinemascope love affairs of Eric Rohmer, shot somewhere in between Dinard and Saint Malo. It was a teenage dream visiting the Nord, the land of oysters and pig’s noses (Point De Grouin is the name of a cape in the Breton area and also a local delicacy of the same name. It is also the name of a Breton restaurant in Gard du Nord Paris), of old navy tales and songs, of crepes and tides.
From our window we could see the Ferry waiting patiently to depart for Portsmouth with its lights gleaming in the blue hour. The only sounds interrupting the silence of our little room overlooking the beach were the seagulls squeaking almost violently, looking for crabs in the sand as the tide was drawing back. A black and white postcard with little girls dressed in traditional Breton dating from 1972 was left on the mantelpiece, probably never sent in the first place. We left the warmth of the room, walking the steps to the beach, surrendering to the salty winds of the north, freezing you to the bone. We looked for oysters and found the empty shell of a king crab. The only living souls on the beach at this time was a man dressed in a flashy red jacket, drinking alone by the pier. From all the windows overlooking the beach, only one was lighted, shining like a lonely beacon in a storm. There is a light that never goes out. The ferry started making it’s way, declaring it’s departure with a fanfare of horns.
Chris Kontos is a photographer, DJ and publisher of Kennedy Magazine.