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  • Moog
  • En mode (re)découverte de cet équilibre qui m'est propre. J'aime chanter, le tai chi, lire, écrire, rire...apporter du bien être aux autres et profiter du quotidien.
  • En mode (re)découverte de cet équilibre qui m'est propre. J'aime chanter, le tai chi, lire, écrire, rire...apporter du bien être aux autres et profiter du quotidien.
13 juin 2009 6 13 /06 /juin /2009 20:03
Depuis que je les ai ramenées dimanche dernier je les observe. Les pivoines, installées dans leur vase de verre tout en angles, semblent attendre leur fin paisiblement. Mais contrairement aux roses et hortensias, qui se dessèchent sur pied et exhibent leur beauté flétrie pendant de longues journées, les pivoines restent belles et joufflues, moins longtemps certes. Il y a de la noblesse en elles.

les pivoines roses
leurs pétales les voilà 
à terre -
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13 juin 2009 6 13 /06 /juin /2009 17:44
A busy day today. On the morning, family house cleaning and public library ; on the afternoon, cinema and shopping. Seems that spring did indeed end yesterday : from morning on, got dry, hot air, and no wind at all; empty streets at 2 pm, on my head strikes a giant hammer of a sun, feel like a roasting chicken. Yep, this is continental summer.

after lunch walk -
even in sky scraper shades
the summer heat ! 

Gone watch Night at the museum (second opus) with my bigger son. In this large, dark and almost empty room, we find cool air at last. Even not being a huge Ben Stiller fan, since I do not belong to those his style annoys, time goes by rapidly.

deep orchestra stalls
movie instead of a nap
summer stayed outside 

After the movie, back in the oven we wander through the open market trying to stay at bay from the loudspeakers till we find the coffee-roasting shop. A dark and rather ancient place, crammed with tea and coffee pots, with sweets of all kind on every possible place : chocolate of course, but also honey, marshmallow, and candy. Fresh ground coffee we buy smells so strong that all along the way back home we feel environed by a coffee cloud.
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12 juin 2009 5 12 /06 /juin /2009 18:47
This morning, soft air, no wind, and clouds like wool taken of a giant beige sheep. Unusually calm and quiet.

Wool clouds -
drummed on duellist soft steps
parading blackbirds 

Quiet and regular commuter trip on train 1 and 2, but a stuck train waits for me on platform 3. Announcements state a bug on the track, a bus service to be set in place of. I get on. On a blue seat, tired of the ventilator staccato and the boring pattern of announcements, I put on Dylan. Blood on the tracks.

Bathing in beautiful songs, sharing his frustration, anger and nostalgy, his voice holds me in the crowded car. Early morning has passed away when I arrive to the office.

Quiet day to work, contrasting with yesterday's fever. Same chaos rules, but walks in cotton sleepers. Too much change in a short time, and more change to come in three months. And then, a change of change?

People come and go. Met two people today on their last day, while tenths of anonymous interns walk the corridors. No time to say goodbye, trying nevertheless to take the time to say hello.

Back on the train, dreaming of the old place.

logfire smelling
red virginia coated walls
now a sold house -
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11 juin 2009 4 11 /06 /juin /2009 22:12
Waited for my love inside an internet cafe on the small rue du roi de Sicile. After a time, the need to stay outside in the street takes me completely again and I get out. The sun is oustandingly bright.

shop inside was dark
first the street grey pavement
then only the sun!

In the streets, all restaurants have put tables on the pavement outside. Arriving on the place de l'Hotel de Ville, the saint-Jacques tower, wide enough to hide the sun, not quite enough to lower its light, appears like a candle in the middle of a fire. Hordes of pigeons are flying around, almost hidden inside the light.

summer street dinner
sun eclipsed by a tower
black bullets of birds

June is a double agent : summer japanese tourists, walking in order and holding the same ice cup with the same hand,  are sharing the place with tenths of wildly kissing lovers. Is it the last day of spring, or do seasons walk together today? 

japanese tourists
lovers kissing in the street 
June of both seasons

For you, my love :

we held hands tonight
peonies lost petals
just remember me
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11 juin 2009 4 11 /06 /juin /2009 18:22
Going out of my place, a beautiful sight for my eyes only : between an almost full moon and the ground, a plane seemingly the same size is passing by. A pair of birds on the wire and maroon trees complete this moon flight postcard.

Passengers did you
take enough luggage with you
you fly to the moon!

Later on in my station comes a bird of another kind. Bellowing uncertain words into his mobile phone with a drunken voice, he rolls anf glides till the closest exit singing and shouting one single word : zoubida. Morning lesson completed on waiting platform number 3 today, and time left to have a look around.

Yellow neon lights and dark grey pavement : a permanent instant belonging to no season. Forced idleness and waiting time in a dead  zone, all result in an apparent time stasis. Here at ground minus zero we are waiting, losing our time, do the people outside age more than us?

subway traveller
you follow the blue turtle
time tricks you out wack

I spent my day in another world today, half dreaming half overrun, gone on many many errands ; emergency passed a point presents similarity to eternity : time gets out its usual frame, stasis again.  Do astronauts experience such stasis on the moon, when they look at this blue sphere called Earth, trying to mentally contact their loved ones and remember this land they're coming from, while out of it? I do not know. But clearly sometimes I felt estranged today, a stranger in a way, lost in a no time zone, or on the moon like we use to say in french.

On a june blue moon
certainly another moon
the one you are on
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10 juin 2009 3 10 /06 /juin /2009 21:04
This morning, less heat and for once, the wind talks. It blows with a gentle booming voice to my ears, and all near songbirds make a choir with a variety of flute sounds. Windsong symphony.

As I wait for the train, trying to maintain a link with the windsong, a woman arrives on the opposite platform, singing an A&B melody in front of the world with a really beautiful and loud voice. Deeply in internal music, she gets on her train and my eyes follow her face through the window, eyes shut and focused.

What the wind told me
I'll sing it all to the world
summer songbirds choir

Then in my train, and in the next one, and in the final one, I begin to see them all, closed eyes singers in the wind going their way through the maze and through their regular commuter trip, seemingly oblivious of the world around them, but who knows? The wind only...

why when the wind blows
only the wind knows for sure
cold summer breeze -
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9 juin 2009 2 09 /06 /juin /2009 19:10
This morning when I leave home, no birds on the wires, no singing sounds, no water on the street, just a 6:30 weird heat.

No songbirds no songs 
Dry pavement empty wires
First summer dry heat

In the train no one moves, sitting passenger heads tilting as one in the tight curves. Inside the station corridors silence is roaring, got breathless on top of all stairs, even the escalators.

Breathless and just soaked
the daily fish catch pop pop
subway summer day

Whatever ; shut behind my rory face I pay attention to nothing else than music. In some moments I can almost feel gust of winds through the windows. Race the breeze.

Same heat through my working day, two meetings in non climatised rooms and heater on till the Ice Saints, probably in icelandic calendar. Hot meeting, hot discussion, hot hot hot.

Lasting all the day
Hot hot hot hot hot so hot
Sunflower sun bath

Back on tracks, on my return trip, for the first time written in the three trains, even without music. Hot too.
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8 juin 2009 1 08 /06 /juin /2009 19:29
Today I leave home earlier in order to take a train to far north on a no commuter train day. On the pavement in front of the condo entrance, all garbage bags show their content ; a bag ripper was there.

Waiting for my cab, standing on the kerb, a cat looks at me. At first, I thought him the ripper, but surely he could not rip all garbage bags in the street. Maybe he knows whodunit.
Garbage all over
Cat won't spill nor eat the beans
early summer strike

After a short trip I arrive to the railway station, receiving a warm welcome from the tramps, between urine smells and stone pillow beds. I slither my way between rafales of landing pigeons till the main gate to the wonderful world of Northfloatingland.

Home for wanderers
a wave for the stay-at-home 
Northfloatingland park

I like to see the would be passengers ballet in the so called lost step hall, as they dance their way to the platform, thrown in a tramping crowd to their train by a last minute announcement., the debutantes audacious moves answering the daily user solid steeple chase. Not a match to Terry Gilliam's Fisher king dance scene (link), but nevertheless...

After years spent in another wonderful floating place, the Saint-Lazare underground spaghetti plate, I do appreciate the simple balance and the shift in color brought by passers-by to those rather dull and anonymous places, where only movement brings identity, the almost musical patterns created by waves of similarly walking passers-by answering the standing traveller and fixed object tonality.

Passers-by movements
Some just standing and waiting
Flowers in the wind
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7 juin 2009 7 07 /06 /juin /2009 13:27
A better weather today, with a sky between blue and grey, some wind sometimes, and the sun that shines intermittently with summerlike heating rays. Felt the first belly burns on the way to the market, no clue regarding what I ate this time. Burns seem to come by periods almost regardless of the efforts I make to avoid, the best I can, my now known enemies on top of which are the cruel Croissants Brothers : Butter and Plain.

national breakfast
We sure can come to terms - ouch
sunday morning burns

I come back to the car, holding in my arms a tenth of bags, like a giant green plastic corn ear. We're driving to a park to picnic with some friends. Under the sun we play football, and despite of my cap I feel dizzy and hot after a while.

Then we find a quiet place close to a Marne cutoff that looks like a simple pond. Crazy jackpot today with a second episode during the picnic. Gosh I hate having monster hiccups in front of my family and friends. I must look like Jabba.

A wide mouthed frog!
should it fall into the pond
long disgusting noise
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6 juin 2009 6 06 /06 /juin /2009 08:08
Woke up this morning in my bed. Kids came at 7:30 to see if I had returned from Germany. Busy week-end maybe, with many people to see, and for the moment at least, it rains. Not cats and dogs really, only a light rain for a very soft day.

a soft day in June
across a hole in the hedge
a small black bird beek

my beard first today
the hedge has to wait its turn
Spring end soft rains

I could walk for hours under this rain, thinking of nothing ; just a single singing man.

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