Last night I dreamed about Michel Boudrot.
He's not a movie star, a politician, a lover.
He was my ancestor and we were walking around La Rochelle where he was born in 1601 and sailed from to make his home in Canada.
In the dream all the ice cream, souvenir shops, real estate agents, museums, restaurants had disappeared. So had all the modern yachts.
La Rochelle was more of fishing port and I could smell the fish as I passed by the salting warehouse.
Michel told me about his life.
Too bad research isn't that easy.