Black feet ! What a strange word to name those who have lived for several generations on a land that they had to leave. Thus, during my childhood, I was not a pied-noir, but simply an Algerian. I was Dany, the little girl cherished by her parents, their only child. I was the favorite of my grandmother Nejouma, the one to whom she told beautiful and long stories which had the power to embark me in a magical universe of sweetness and cheerfulness. In this novel which combines personal memories and universality of feelings, Danielle Layani-Pon paints a beautiful portrait of a woman. Unforgettable childhood in Algeria, first of all, with this incomparable fragrance and sweetness of olive oil. Then the adolescent marked by history: the one with a capital H, but narrated through Dany's daily life in Oran. Afterwards, youth: uprooting, years of study and the mythical Saint-Tropez. And finally, adult life, in a rapidly changing society, up to this hallucinating period of pandemic, confinement ... and post-confinement.