Redon, 2nd January 2025
In 2014, I started asking people around me the following question: “Is there anything important you’d like to say to someone, but have never said?” In 95% of cases, after a few seconds pause, the answer is “yes”. We have the illusion of living in a time of fluid and easy communication, but in reality, important things often go unsaid.
So for the past 10 years, I’ve been offering a special service to the people I meet: if they take the time to write down these important things in a letter, I will hand-deliver it, by bike, to the addressee, wherever they live.
I don’t remember exactly how Stephanie heard about me, but one day she got in touch because she had two letters in mind. A few weeks later, in January, I got on my bike and rode to her house near Rennes, 60 kilometers from where I live.
During the course of the evening, Stéphanie told me about who her letters were addressed to. The first one was for her little niece. The second was for a childhood friend with whom Stéphanie was very close as a teenager, but that her father didn’t approve of. He would constantly say: “You mustn’t hang out with that girl.” And after a while, Stéphanie eventually listened and broke off the friendship. Twenty years later, she still feels bad about it and hoped the letter would repair the relationship.
Around six months had passed since our meeting, when this summer I set off again, with my wife, my bike and in my bag the two letters from Stéphanie and those of two other people. We followed the rivers for a distance of 1,200 kilometers, stopped off at campsites or friends’ houses- traditional cycling tourism, but with a route dictated by the letters’ destinations: first a children’s summer camp in the Cholet region of the Mauges, then a beauty salon in Laval and finally a house in the surrounding countryside.
That’s how the Facteurs humains (the name is a play on words, as “facteur” means both “postman” and “factor” in French, ed.) project began. When I retired, I wanted to go on cycling tours but didn’t know where to go. So, rather than ask my friends and family for suggestions, I asked them if they had a letter for me. The various recipients structured my route.
That first tour lasted three months, I covered 6,000 kilometers and delivered 80 letters. But it’s not always like that! Now there are 230 of us delivering “important but non-urgent letters” (in 2020 Vincent created the “Facteurs humains agency”, which enables others to do what he does, ed.). Some people go as far as Iceland or South America, while others stay within a 30-kilometer radius. But in reality, you can go a long way without traveling many kilometers. The letters don’t need to travel great distances to make a big difference.
Tension always builds as you get closer to delivering the letter. It’s the high point of the trip. Based on what people tell me, I always have lots of different scenarios in mind. But it never turns out the way I imagine!
When we arrived in Laval, we went to Stéphanie’s friend’s office. She was with a client and spotted us waiting outside the window, dressed in our cycling gear, with my helmet and my weird bike (Vincent rides a recumbent bike, ed.), so she came out. I introduced myself and told her that Stéphanie had entrusted me with an important letter for her. She was a little taken aback, but pleased. She remembered the friendship very well, but didn’t have the same memory of a painful break-up. There are always at least two experiences for the same event, I realize that every time. And most of the time, the recipients feel the need to tell their version too, as was the case with the next letter.
A week later, we were standing in front of an isolated house. It was morning, but already hot. A couple in their 80s opened the door. Marc*, who had given us a letter for them, had explained to me that he had been very badly treated by his father as a child. However, he had had an aunt and uncle who had tried to protect him from his father’s violence and take care of him. That was around forty years ago. Today, Marc wanted to formalize the fact that he considered this aunt and uncle as his real parents.
The couple invited us outside for a drink, and we chatted for an hour and a half. The lady was very touched. They recounted the story, but this time from their adult point of view, with their questions and concerns.
Every person I meet through these letters is a novel. Every life has something incredible about it. The Facteurs humains’ role is both poetic and political. It’s an invitation to take the time to recreate real, rather than virtual, connections, to tell our own stories and to listen to those of others. To be truly alive, we need to take hold of our own narratives.
* The name was changed
