something left

On my desk lay a piece of paper with the name Mr Mouse written on it in blue ink, followed by a telephone number. I have not met Mr Mouse. It is down to me to call him or else? He does not know of my existence yet. The only certainty being that we both exist. if I dial his number, I set forth the possibility of easing the pain. The pain being self inflicted, I come to wander how Mr Mouse's phone number ended up on my desk. it seems I command a chain of small events upon which M
r Mouse has no control. Would I call on him, I would then give him the opportunity to become an event in my disorderly life and therefore the possibility of controlling my life. Because to this day, I know that the pain can not be eased, I will not call Mr Mouse and I will be left with the uncertainty of why exactly his telephone number lay on my desk.

Ich habe von dir geträumt

Mies and Meier

Meyers and Miller

did she

I SWEAR I HAVEN'T PUSHED SATURATION;
I have not done anything either to green or red, this is my natural color. Ask Vincent if you don't trust me. His hear has healed and is out of the hospital and resting in the blue room.
no, I did not cry nor scream at the Job Center today; I just noticed the flower pots stood on  A4 printing paper cardboard boxes lids. My advisor told me I would pull through. Nice to hear the heartbeat behind the steel desk.

Corpus Christi

The She

Today's is international Women's Day and I post this picture for all the women around the world who do not have access to clean water and have to spend hours every day to collect water, boil it, re-use it in order to feed their family and keep themselves and the children clean. Respect.

I recently viewed on my beloved Arte Channel +7 player a very informative film: Water Makes Money, by Leslie Franke and Herdolor Lorenz. The site is listed as containing computer malware at present and most of the links to the film's website are either in french or german but to give you an idea, it is about the profit-only management of water by private french company Veolia, with the complicity of banks and government official. Yes, water has become big business, it is the 21st century's gold and, once again, guess who is left to mend the broken pieces? 

My grandmother always told me that mankind best invention was not the airplane or the steam engine but the washing machine and I, looking at the deformity of her hands brought on, partly, by years of washing the laundry in the ice-cold water of the outdoor basin. For an instant, I visualized myself bent over a washboard rubbing bedlinen in January. I understood immediately how she felt about the Paris-NY Concorde flight. History is written by men, including the compendium of the greatest inventions.

Sometimes, the glass is half-empty.

Is it right to steal from your mother?

Sound of silence

Not cropped

I'm feeling Anselm Kiefer-ish tonight. If you have not seen "Over your city grass will grow", you should. That is my local cemetery by the way as I don(t own a bunker yet. Working on it.

dark side of the moon

demain

I am going to my first yoga class tomorrow, not in that building unfortunately.

The smell II

plomberie vosgienne

hip

in a median paraphrasing, you described the state you were in. the forearms muscle completely relaxed, Theo Parrish  is playing and the warmth you release is convenient to a lot of people. your teeth have not yet fallen and you can clearly see that the light you are experiencing is universal. there are no barriers, no sad ending, no boys killing themselves out of despair. this is the world as you know it.

Fresh n face

Stoned

My neighbour's kitchen window.

reflecting

I started a blog in french, thinking I would write lots and lots...in french; this is not happening, for some reason, the minute, I posted a photo and had written an intro, the flood stopped and I was struck by the white page syndrome and all I could think of were reflections and reasons why and my thoughts were forming in english, all this with the added annoyance of not even being an english national. The more I try to shake the englishness out of my brain, the more it flares up. The festive season does not help. I even wrote a whole poem in english this morning. Last night, I made origami snowflakes and they are all english (it is very warm and sunny in Avignon). My daughter's english class nursery rhymes are on a path with haikus, the language rolling like pebble. And you know what, even the few photos I am taking are english. This I really can not explain. I do not think I have one french bone left in me. That should be perfect to live the british expat dream, I just didn't expect to have to go through the whole language barrier again.

Eat your heart

When you're unemployed, you leave in joy. Hum, no, you don't, you just have time to make preserve to give as Christmas present because you are so broke, your budget for family' s present is about £3. per head. This is a white watermelon or squash called a citre and it makes a delicious jam.

Martine Schopenhauer has a little bike in her head