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By matrimonial crossings, I happen to be an "added piece" in the family circle of the famous photographer, Henri Cartier Bresson.
My admiration for his photographic work annoys him. He dedicated himself almost entirely to drawing at that time
Quite academic drawings, in pastel or pencil; series of prehistoric animal carcasses from the Museum of Natural Sciences, landscapes of the south, or those seen from its window. The last exhibition at the Grande Bibliothèque in Paris largely shows his drawings ... a smaller part is devoted to photography.

Teresa, a Polish friend, is the champion of typical cuisine and undisputed master of a memorable dish: cabbage stuffed with buckwheat and porcini mushrooms. Henri is one of the aficionados.
A few months before his disappearance, I organize a dinner with his favorite specialty.
He arrives early, already with a cane, takes off his heavy loden coat, refuses to be helped to remove it.

Cabbage is served: magnificent, fragrant.
Suddenly I hear Henri Cartier-Bresson speak Polish!
Not really speaking, but swearing with the most filthy words, that I could not pronounce myself! Whoww!
My guests do not share my language and only Teresa shows signs of emotion while blushing, an angel passes.
And Henri recounts his departure during the German occupation with other young people in STO (Compulsory Labor Service) to work in an armaments factory located in occupied Poland.
The Poles rounded up on the spot taught him "essential" words in this fraternally shared situation.

He then tells about his flight, and all the adventures to arrive in the free zone ... He says "the Poles, they only had their job to survive: they had no country anymore".
Martine Franck, his wife present at this dinner said he did not know this chapter.
Henri, proud of his memory, repeated the same string of tasty curses at dessert. It was the poppy cake.
Basia Embiricos Gallery