Pierre Bergounioux is one of the great writers of our time. While his work has a universal appeal, it also has its favored territories of exploration: history and literature, memory and the act of writing, childhood and the Corrèze region. A voice, indeed, but also a body—gnarled, vibrant, Giacometti-esque. Consumed by his passions, Pierre fiercely collects objects and the words to recount them—scraps of iron, insects, everything…Six months ago, he and I set off together to the Plateau de Millevaches in Corrèze. I had asked him to go there to capture his favorite insects for us—a butterfly, a hawk moth, some hoplia beetles. We had ten days. It was in June, it should have been sunny, abounding with insects. But that would have been too easy. It would not have been the Plateau. It would not have been Pierre.
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