The carpet

I saw a man this morning on the side of the road. He was besides his car boot open. Rows and rows of carpets, oriental rugs rolled up, side by side, in the car.  He was standing in front of this treasure and I stopped to watch as he weaved in, weaved out heavy wool string…

a four lettered word

It follows me. Nags me. Tortures me.  Until I forgot where I am.  Until the end. I have no idea when that will be. It’s everywhere.  It never stops. And all the while, I feel the strings tugging, restricting not my breath, but my control. They call it self destruction, I heard.  The control.  The…

Muette comme la mouette

Hier soir, j’étais une mouette. Elle s’est installée dans le sable. Bien enfournée mais la tête dehors vers l’horizon. Un oeil ouvert, Moitié fermé. Surveillance totale. pour quel? Aucune idée mais que pour l’horizon.

Murmur home.

I see the rising tide beneath the setting sun but the waves do not come crashing, tumbling down, spears at the ready for battle. No, they simply call and murmurrepeatedly, slinking around my feet, snaking, not unlike the kettle’s whistle when it welcomes the warmth of coffee, tea leaves, or the bottom of the cup….

Jungle ‘scape

Lime green, jardin de jungle.A pair of legging trousers, a tunicor is it a dress?Little girl, on a beam, without a beam, on a vitesse à tres longue distance, trees at the moment zipping by in my lens like no tomorrow. She’s a ballerina, the type another little girl could have if the brain damage…

It’s time to learn.

Starting 8 years ago (and possibly before), articles such as one in Foreign Policy, gave out a warning to all US politicians that if alternative foreign policy agendas were not put into place in the very near future the cost would be extremely high for the country and the world if it wasn’t already. 6 years…

Stages

3 stages of grief 3 stages of trauma 3 stages of anger I am the 4th stage. I carry all the stages of my lineage. It’s been a while… We took a little break from the blog. We’re not quite there yet but we think we’re ready to write again. Poppies symbolise remembrance and these…

Sur les français de l’étranger

Qui est le français de l’étranger? Il y en a plusieurs: l’expat, l’immigrant ou émigrant vers d’autres pays, les enfants de français né(e)s à l’étranger, les enfants né(e)s d’un parent français (à l’étranger ou pas dans plusieurs cas). Mais nous voulions juste tout simplement parler du vécu.. Pour l’étranger, qui sommes-nous? Pour la France, qui…

visuals in our paths

In March, we asked “what is light?” “What does it bring?” We all have memories. They’re what makes us each an individual. Tainted with the colouring of our emotions. But light is also a prism. From one angle, we only see what we can see. Only when we turn into another corner or direction do…

Le droit d’être citoyen.

Marine ….. Marine …….. Marine ……. Marine …. Marine …… C’est le nom de la chanson de Vitaa Amel Bent et Camélia Jordan. C’est aussi le prénom d’une politicienne de l’extrême droite en France. Aujourd’hui, depuis quelques années la montées des extrêmes droites inquiète beaucoup. En France, comme dans le reste du monde, ils doublent…