The books of François Righi are made up of books, they are the sensitive, plastic incarnation of a reading. They are its living fingerprint, the echo of a joy captured by the material of the book, as well as a confession : the ignorance of this joy cannot content itself with only saying, or only writing. It demands something else, much more than words to be translated words, tobe grasped. The confession of such a singular emotion cannot be too obvious, or it isbetrayed. For that, what is being offered is not an easy gift. There will as many veils to belifted as pages to be turned.

Marie-Jeanne Boistard, Head of Conservation, Blois-Agglopolys.