On vous confisquera pas la Rolex, allez…

 

« Selon la doctrine indienne, la mort, en nous touchant, ne nous détruit pas, elles nous rend seulement invisibles. »
(Chateaubriand)
Eh bien, pour ce qui est de la mort politique, et faute de mieux, on s’en contenterait, vous savez…

 

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Nietzsche avé nous, putaing de moine!

 

« La vraie culture a besoin de mélange et de fertilisation mutuelle. »
(Friedrich Nietzsche)
Eh ben oui!

 

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So far from Griffith Park…

Nothing to alter, nor leaves, neither roots, mists, shades, blindfold hides, careless colours casting but shame beyond their deaf masks, their pearly inner names, leaping so cruel over night and stillness…

Throw down the gauntlet, the deadly trap – hiding again from the good hour…

No imprint in the airs, no vestige of safe walls, no turning of leaves entitling the painted rules, inner docility of slops and maples, hoarded ways holding true course back to the barren, unbolt beginning: that weeping proud stone well knowing the form the carver imparts, torn from its setting… …

There is something about sea that is timeless. I think about a lot of things, some of which not so pleasant. I think about mutability and my own mortality. Being on sea steadies me, soothes me. I feel connected with something larger. You have to put your hours in, you have to be quiet. You have to look. Your senses have to be very keen. You just have to respond and react, to look inward and be prepared not to find who and what you believe you are.

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Les brumeuses…

 

« Il est beaucoup plus difficile de bien voir Londres que n’importe quelle autre ville. Londres est un énigme. Paris, une explication. »
(Chesterton)

 

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L’adieu (tout provisoire) à « ma » cabane…

 

…mais pas à ce qui s’y passait…

 

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