Here comes a harsh and severe winter for all the small newspaper vendors. It had rained so much in recent months, trying to wash away their misfortune. However, a strange news item appeared on the front page of all those newspapers.

But what could it possibly be about?

An unexpected death? A bank robbery? Or a sudden resignation of a man of great political importance? Actually, not really, it was just a small phrase that initially meant nothing but then gained momentum.

But what was this little newspaper, so grand until the end of last autumn, trying to say? Yet it always announced good weather for our lives, our little house where the garden was becoming almost useless from not planting anything in it, except fear.

And here comes winter bursting in to chase away the dead leaves, commanding them to rot so that the good, fertile lands of this spring can come to him. For this strange spring is also coming for our dear little newspaper, the unwitting hero of my tale today.

Let's call him André, a nice name that means "man" and all the nice things that go with it. Because apparently the good images to publish must always be multi-something, and above all never in connection with the little last one of the village, in the process of being destroyed by the printing press that has unfortunately disappeared from the national treasury.

Well, basically our dear André didn't know what news to announce to his readers anymore, except maybe that it was time to change the content of his speech. But how?

By firing its current interns? By looking for fresh news in the salad basket of the last Republican victory in America? Or maybe looking for other collaborators, who enjoy raking up the dead leaves in winter to see what's planted underneath.

And there she was, Nadège, looking quite beautiful with her brown curls and her budding talent as a writer, for her mother had always given her pens and other four-color writing tools to embellish her words. She came from almost nowhere, Nadège, her small brown bag giving her an air of utmost strictness. One might wonder if she had a sense of humor, seeing her so serious with her intellectual demeanor, hair pulled back, and the dark frame of a pair of almost bifocal glasses.

She loved the truth. Nadège, and strangely remembered André this morning to tell him that she was entirely willing to work at a newspaper like his. And that immediately, without delays or endless discussions about the salary or the perks of the said newspaper.

André was astonished by such work aptitude, and without thinking, he hired him. Thinking he was doing his best to turn around the plummeting revenue of his home-delivered information business that had been around for almost a hundred years.

But there you go, André, with his past journalistic wisdom, forgot to check that the sponsors of his well-meaning articles, which he thought were entirely honest, were increasingly becoming the mouthpieces of the infamous government of the current presidency in his country, France in this case.

And it was Nadège, with her little rigid bun, who reminded her of this. She was uncompromising with the truth, more uncompromising than absolutely possible. And her first article was about women. Oh yes, the woman, this beautiful eternal plant that the universe had designed to be as elegant as she is hardworking, to raise not only children and beautiful carrots in the garden but also to elevate minds to a proper understanding of the world around her.

And our dear Nadège was not the type to be brought down by an autumn rain that had been far too long lately, thus giving her free rein to her good word of truth.

She asked André to correct her spelling mistakes before layout and publication. But the latter made a fantastic leap in his old armchair of the information dictator on the pages of his newspaper.

"I can't publish this!"

"And why?" Asked Nadège with an air that was both utterly innocent and yet dry at the same time.

“Because… Because... Because I will have to close my newspaper if I publish this!“

"Oh really, she said in surprise, isn't your newspaper already bankrupt?" That's exactly why you hired me, isn't it? She replied at the height of her art to make it clear that the truth is not the easiest to publish or accept.

André sat down, took his glasses, and began to read the article written in Nadège's beautiful handwriting, and she didn't mince words. She preferred the pen to the ugly lie of good truth for those who choose to see nothing at all of what is happening around them. And there Nadège had hit the nail on the head, because our André was not an idiot, far from it, his intelligence even surpassed the average. And yet he hadn't seen anything coming that Nadège described in her article. He thought he was an honest and respectable notable, while the truth was trying to show him that he was heading down the path of the bad news that should never be published, so as not to lose the attention of those who truly seek it, this beautiful truth.

And there Nadège, in two or three well-written paragraphs, explained to him that the truth lay behind the fear of never being in the right. What a tangled web this story is.

But not really, because the truth often hides behind the most shameless lie of everyday life. The one we inflict on ourselves in search of peace. Like, "leave me alone, I want to watch Netflix without being bothered by the fear of getting sick from everything. So I vaccinate myself against all the ideas that could disrupt my usual peace.“

Well, Nadège took the time to explain all this in a beautiful article, where she asked people to stop buying newspapers because they told nothing but lies and it was better to leave it at that with journalists, even though she was part of that profession.

But how would the readers of our dear André react to this article? Would they throw the newspapers in the trash, unsubscribe from everything, even from the Monday sports page! Or were they simply going to come to their senses by reading those same articles under the gaze of that famous regained reason?

Good question that André was asking. Should he publish Nadège's article, or do as usual by publishing strange messages that are as contradictory as they are futile in understanding the current world, while Nadège's article sparked a very interesting debate?

André thought, again and again for at least an hour, which was long for a man like him who was quick to publish his newspaper on time. But today he was confronting fear, the fear of facing reality in front of his computer screen. The one that, for once, was open to the page of the usual information dilettante, when the agency's dispatch announced the opposite of what he understood about the world.

Who was André? Today was the day he had to decide, because not only his financial future and especially that of the newspaper were at stake, but also his own integrity in light of everything he now understood about himself, the world, and his profession. He had to react, but how.

He therefore trusted Nadège, whose severity but great precision of gaze reassured him in the beautiful vision of the world he too had at the beginning. He quickly reviewed his recent and even older past to see that he had become one of those bedridden public information journalists. Those who, not wanting to scare the readers, put them in such a stupor that now discovering he was wrong on every point. But how to make up for the last few years of nonsense in this newspaper, which has been read from father to son in its beautiful region of France.

He made the first decision of the year by publishing Nadège's article, and contrary to his fearful beliefs, thinking he was sabotaging himself, his newspaper gained traction until the day's stock was exhausted.

He couldn't believe that telling the truth about himself could finally make him credible again with his readers. So that was the secret to the profitability of André's newspaper, the truth. Well, he doubled down in the days and months that followed, only to be imitated from all sides by the competition, as they too saw that André's commercial tactic was incredibly profitable. But only the newspapers that didn't sensationalize by sticking to utterly useless truths succeeded, while André's truths challenged not the entire society but a single system of thought driven by fear, money, and the false peace of the 8 PM news.

Our dear Nadège spent two or three months with André before leaving to help other equally intelligent people. Those who were sometimes lost in a peace process that brings only meager or even no harvests, when the good friendship of a thought solidly anchored in one's innermost self through the truth we carry towards ourselves takes over.

So there you go, his work was done and André had taken with him most of the newspapers in France, which also did not want to die from the lie made to their former intelligence. For intelligence and culture are nothing if the truth on that subject becomes obsolete and meaningless. Indeed, many people are very intelligent, understand words, sentences, numbers, music and its notation, but do they truly know how to use this knowledge in reality?

Good question, isn't it? Because starting by understanding how we function and for what reason allows humanity to ask the right questions. And this without fearing to offend any scientist in any field by telling them: "Hey, I think we're heading in the wrong direction here."

And it was there that Nadège and André showed us the flaw in our beautiful intellectual system, when we forget to include the right peace. Not the one from the movie that dulls our conscience for an evening, but the one that allows us to face the truths without trembling. Because we know how to be intelligent and understand that a failure can be avoided if we comprehend its symbols and, above all, the truth about it.

Good idea Nadège had there, after all. But who was our dear Nadège?

Well, a young woman, not so young in reality, because her old soul apparently wanders from apocalypse to apocalypse on our planet to bring some truth back into the affairs of this world, when the time is finally right. And apparently it must be favorable, because Nadège never moves for nothing. So let's wait and see if all the André of France start publishing beautiful and true information full of composure and contextualization without detours, to preserve one or the other of the camps whether they are blue, white, black, or red.

Have a good day everyone, with the simplest and most insightful gaze, to seek the right information that will help us move forward into the future. And now I believe the information flood won't be long in coming this time, and not the one that inundates us with bad mold from constantly falling on our heads.