Mereabeille

emerge from silence

2012-02-14T01:51:00.000-08:00

let me talk, please, let me talk...give me time to find my words...allow me to open my mouth and tell my truth...

ready to move on

2012-02-11T01:47:00.001-08:00

I've been very lucky lately to meet Effy, then Melissa (side-bar)... Thanks to Viscountess and Annie...

That was , that is a very difficult time in my life...

But since I took my pencils, scissors, glue...etc ... again, I feel so much better...

My bonsai had lost all his leaves, it looked dry and dead, but it's green again...

I have along long way to go to heal, to recover, but I'm ready to walk...

I even managed to participate to the sketchbook project 2012...

But now I must watch after myself, my blogs, my "arty" activities !!! my altered books I love so much...

so...ready...steady...go..

inspiring

2012-02-10T01:23:00.000-08:00

I love to watch them when I'm in my work-room

My book of days

2012-02-08T06:49:00.001-08:00

Alice

2010-10-19T03:20:00.000-07:00

the snail that nibbled the cardboard told the little Queen of heart:

"I did it to help you...take your red pencil...do it again all over...a new page for Alice...

the basement

2010-10-17T09:49:00.000-07:00

the first time the little Queen of heart and her King went to the big house, the coachman told them:
"don't worry, you'll be allright, it's only dangerous when you have to go to the basement, on the ground-floor it's not dangerous"
but one day the King was so so bad that they had to go to the basement with the lovely small white wheel-chair...

at the first

sight

it did

not

look

so bad...

there was chairs and magazines...

strange magazines telling the lives of princes and princesses they never heard of...

one morning, the small Queen of Heart met Alice

2010-10-14T09:15:00.000-07:00

Alice

2010-10-14T09:14:00.000-07:00

Alice in No-Wonderland, the beginning

2010-10-14T01:50:00.000-07:00

Since her King died six months ago,

the small Queen of Heart feels

ever so sad...

Listen , said the owl, go to the tower,

close the door, take your pencils, papers, paints...

and let your sorrow flows...

It will gradually flows like the brook nearby...

It won't go away, but gradually it'll be less painful...

Healing time has come sweetheart...

so here it is...

As the small Queen of Heart hated the new film Alice,

(all the symbolism had vanished)

she called her book

ALICE IN NO-WONDERLAND...

From now on, she will tell you what she saw, whom she met

in that terrible and extraordinary country...

but be patient, it will take time, a long time...

Lady Scarecrow

2008-04-16T09:53:00.000-07:00

I met this lady in a field one day...very sweet but she told me she was a bit sad and lonely... What a surprise when I saw her this morning, she looked so happy...why is that ?
Coming back to the field this evening I guessed why...
shhhhhhhhhhh...let them dance...let them be happy...

childhood

2008-01-19T09:07:00.001-08:00

it's been very painful to build that picture...but that's a little progress...I joined the two parts of my childhood, the very small happy little girl is with the lonely girl...the high chair disappeared...and I noticed books appeared...
I then realized that loneliness was not such a useless thing...
I also love the tree I made...a woman's body, hands joining...don't know...
on the very left part , a flower and cherries appeared on the grass...
that's the third song: Peaceful's song...

a year is gone...2007...

2008-01-19T09:02:00.000-08:00

that's how I see the year that left...a rather peaceful one...anyhow, I want it to be peaceful , calm, zen...I want it...and I did notice it worked...

self portrait in red and violet...

2007-12-23T08:45:00.000-08:00

Warning

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple

With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.

And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves

And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.

I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired

And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells

And run my stick along the public railings

And make up for the sobriety of my youth.

I shall go out in my slippers in the rain

And pick flowers in other people's gardens

And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat

And eat three pounds of sausages at a go

Or only bread and pickle for a week

And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry

And pay our rent and not swear in the street

And set a good example for the children.

We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?

So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised

When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

from Jenny Joseph (written in 1963)

2007-12-17T13:40:00.000-08:00

the hand I love best...hubby's...

roses symphony...

2007-12-17T09:08:00.000-08:00

just a breath...

art journal...

2007-12-15T09:55:00.002-08:00

one day the mist got thicker and thicker...white...sticky...so cold...
people told her , let yourself go down and down, once you reach the bottom, push hard and you'll come up...but nobody ever told her there was no bottom...
it was all misty, sticky and cold...
but one day a drop of milk appeared, all soft and creamy...
and she drank...

art journal: what events changed your life

2007-12-15T09:45:00.000-08:00

before the 1970's, we had no pills, no serious birth-control...sisters who were pregnant and couldn't keep the child had to go abroad , Switzerland, Belgium, England, to get abortion...
then laws came, Newirth law for bith-conrtrol, Veil for abortion...some said, we were murderers, some said that was too easy...I never got abortion for myself, I was lucky enough to get pregnant when I wanted too...but I remember helping others, going to hospital with them, going from flat to flats in town to explain birth-control...I wish they had been with us, all those who said it was easy...a woman has the right to chose, she owns her womb, nobody else does, just herself...
we were so happy when the law came...we thought: at least our daughters will be free...
but HIV came...and we lost our dream...

Journaling differently

2007-12-09T02:43:00.000-08:00

So, here I am...journaling publicly...strange situation...I've written hundreds of note-books over the years, and destroyed most of them regularly...that was part of the therapy...but even if the paper is burnt, some things are still painful...so let's try something else...
It all started with Sisabeille working on shapes with her French friends...the triangle, the knife, the scissors, the scalpel...i was in my room, turning this into my head...i couldn't sleep...i felt i had to do something...and it came...this "art-journal"...didn't fancy the word though...
In my favorite on-line dictionary I read this:

ART
Etymology:
Middle English, from Anglo-French, from Latin art-, ars — Date: 13th century
1: skill acquired by experience, study, or observation
2 : a branch of learning:
3: an occupation requiring knowledge or skill
4 a: the conscious use of skill and creative imagination especially in the production of aesthetic objects; b:also : works so produced

That was comforting...I could now say : I'm building, making my artist-journal , art-journal or ...
I wanted to find a "thread"...not difficult...the idea of the puzzle has been in my mind for years...
The first pages are what they are...a beginning...sure I will find other versions later...
The very interesting thing is this: when you are used to journaling with your pen, your copy-book, you are used to write, work very quickly...words are flowing, often very painfully , but if it's not well written, i mean in correct words and with a beautiful hand-writing it's not important...evacuating is the priority...
Painting, drawing, in a psychiatric hospital bedroom is also very different...you just "vomit" colours and lines...not to suffocate...at least that's how i fell...
But here it was a quite different thing: express yourself with pictures in public...there was the idea of communication...communicating with other people...making yourself understood...or trying to...it's neither easier nor more difficult...just very deeply different...
So here I am now...quite new and 61 years young...with plenty free time and my small but sufficient pension...the best situation...
lucky me !!!
I gave myself a new name, some time ago, thanks to some great"Wild women "...I left the group, but go on with the "work" ...I had to start doing it French...I had to stop hiding behind English language, using the excuse: I can't do it, I don't have the words...In French I have no excuse...
For a few weeks I didn't work much on my English blogs , I couldn't find the words...I thought I couldn't be English AND French ...but now all is well, I realized my native language is French, and my second chosen one is English...I allowed myself not to chose...
Claudine could become Peaceful, Paisible...

Journaling in a different way

2007-12-08T12:47:00.000-08:00

With my friends from the forum Mixed-Media France I 'm trying to draw and make and build a journal...it's supposed to be called art-journal...but i find difficult to use that word...it's not really art for me...i mean MINE isn't art...just a way of trying to express myself differently...and really it's very very useful, though it's very painful at times...
so here are my first pages...

from Claudine to Peaceful...

2007-12-08T12:20:00.000-08:00

that's the front cover...Peaceful Mousie is wondering : will she succeed in making the puzzle of her life...will she find all the pieces...every time she will make a page, she will get a piece of the puzzle...

At the very beginning I was a happy little girl, with hundreds girl friends, eight in fact, and dozens close friends, one in fact...but there was the little blue bowl with poppies, and every day i used to sit with the others at school and have a bowl of soup...the soup my mum made ...teacher mum who knew so many nice stories...that was long ago, before i turned six, before i became the lonely little girl...

That's long gone years...but still so painful...i was such a lonely little girl...no friends...girls used to go to church school, boys to state one...i was all alone with the boys...my parents were teachers in the state school...the priest said i was the devil's girl...at sunday school girls used to sit on the left, boys on the right...i was all alone in the middle on a chair...no girl friends...

I thought everything was going to change, everything was going to be better...freedom, love, peace, all the dreams we made were surely get true...I was only twenty two...I'm sixty one now, and didn't see much difference...except in family life may be people talk a bit more easily...but where is peace...

This will be the back-cover of the journal...it's a photo I made, moving the camera very quickly and a text from Rilke..."Live your questions now, and perhaps even without knowing it, you will live along some distant day into your answers. "...I love that quote...on the left side some pieces of the puzzle...don't know if I will complete it...

A birth...a film...just watch, just listen...

2007-11-04T09:05:00.000-08:00

Twenty seven years and seven months ago I gave birth to my son...Today I saw that film...
Twenty seven years ago I was listening to that music while my baby was leaving my body, going towards an unknown world...today i want to share that music with you my women friends...song for the unknown man...a tiny little one with plenty dark hair...now a tall young man...listen to Vangelis, the music of Tom's birth...and go and see this film "the first cry"...go and join all these women rich and poor for glorious or terrible births...You have the link on the picture...

Jane Austen ( 16 December 1775-18 July 1817)

2007-10-25T05:01:00.000-07:00

I don't know if the story is perfectly true...in fact we don't know much about her life...the film is based on a biography "Becoming Jane"written by Jon Spence in 2003. But is it really important...te interesting thing in this film is the atmosphere...the painting of England in those times...the way an English young lady is educated...the title is interesting: becoming Jane, how do you become a writer...and Jane's character is so great...yes the actress is very beautiful a bit too much, but she acts so just in tune...you feel this strong temper, proud, realistic...the way she gets interested in everyday life, ordinary people, ordinary works, nature, animals and danse, sports, music...the way she looks for words to find the exact one in a simple way, not a sophisticated one...a critic wrote: in autumn romantic writers would create extraordinary romances, Jane Austen bewared of not catching a cold, because an ordinary cold would do this, do that etc...just like Louise falling from the Cobb...

....................................

a few quotes now...
-Why not seize the pleasure at once? How often is happiness destroyed by preparation, foolish preparation!
-If a woman doubts as to whether she should accept a man or not, she certainly ought to refuse him. If she can hesitate as to Yes, she ought to say No, directly.
-I do not want people to be agreeable , as it saves me the trouble of liking them.
-Everybody likes to go their own way- to choose their own time and manner of devotion.

Il est parti il y a quatre ans...

2007-08-19T12:46:00.000-07:00

"Les boucles se formaient et s'entrelaçaient avant de s'allonger docilement dans le même sens. Et le minuscule outil d'acier, cette faiseuse de miracle, oeuvrait , sans relâche, imperturbable, comme si elle eût été insensible à la beauté de son oeuvre. Elle semblait n'avoir qu'une préoccupation: accomplir sa tâche du jour. Comme l'abeille, elle ne prenait guère le temps de s'extasier sur la merveille par elle réalisée. Elle ne trouvait là rien d'extraordinaire. Elle existait pour exécuter des points, tout comme l'abeille existait pour confectionner du miel. Et le svelte serviteur de l'art de continuer ses bouclettes qui s'enchaînaient les unes aux autres, presque avec bonheur, comme si elles se réjouissaient d'être liées, de s'appartenir, de n'avoir aucun sens qu'ensemble. Quant au fil, il ne cessait de se tortiller lascivement sous la traction indifférente mais ferme de l'instrument de fer dont la froide raideur contrastait étrangement avec la chaleureuse expression du point de chaînette.Cette aiguille qui se mouvait avec autant de dextérité que de détachement était guidée par de longs doigts ronds plaqués d'ongles courts. Le pouce et l'index qui tenaient ce petit bout de fer avec assurance et souplesse lui faisaient piquer le tissu transpercé sous la poussée mesurée d'un majeur que ne coiffait aucun dé. Soudain tous les doigts tressautèrent, et de dessous la toile blanche apparut une petite tache d'un rouge intense. Et presque aussitôt, le doigt meurtri vola en quête de réconfort vers une bouche généreuse qui s'activa à le suçoter et à le mordiller en douceur......

Awudabiran' était la deuxième femme de maître Obame Afane...

................................................................

Depuis toujours, Awu avait rêvé de coudre sa vie au point de chaînette , faire un noeud d'attache au départ avec les enfants et le mariage, et exceller sur tout le parcours à travers les rapports harmonieux tant sur les plans social et professionnel. Raison pour laquelle elle était demeurée une fleur fermée pendant toute la durée de ses études ; elle voulait vivre de manière totale son éclosion au soleil de l'amour, une fois son assise professionnelle acquise.

In Histoire d'Awu, de Justine Mintsa, écrivaine du nord fang du Gabon

Caramel (Arabic:سكر بنات Sukkar banat)

2007-08-16T06:58:00.000-07:00

It is a 2007 Lebanese film, the first feature film by the Lebanese director Nadine Labaki.
The film has premiered on March 20 during the 2007 Cannes Film Festival, in the Directors' Fortnight section . It ran for the Caméra d'or . I saw it last night and loved it...

2007-08-16T06:37:00.000-07:00

Caramel...mix sugar, water and lemon juice...heat it...let it get golden, a sweet paste, nice to eat, but also ready to epilate women...We are in Lebanon, in a beauty salon, in Beirut...2006...just a few weeks between two wars...and it's so good, so important to think about something else...Please do not follow these critics who say: Where is war ? these women's talks are so superficial, these are pure clichés...Shut up please critics, let these women live a few days of peace...
Let them combine "the idea of sweet and salt, sweet and sour".
swwet, sweat, tears, love...
Let me introduce our Lebanese sisters:
Layale, the catholic, still living with her parents (can't be otherwise) whom lover is married...
Nisrim the young fiancée , so worried of no longer being a virgin...
Rima falling in love with such a beautiful woman...
Jamale , divorced, so worried about getting old...pretending to have her periods...
Rose the old tailor, with her shop near the salon, Rose falling in love with old Charles, but Rose who must stay , and look after her sister, Lili the mad one...
Remember their names, except Layale, Nadine Labaki, they aren't actresses, just ordinary women...
Yasmine Al Masrri is Nisrim
Joanna Moukarzel is Rima
Gisèle Aouad is Jamale
Sihame Haddad is Rose
Aziza Seeman is Lili

******************

If you watch the video underneath this post you'll get an idea of the film...but there's a problem, the subtitles aren't very well translated...You'll hear some French words and sentences in the dialogue, some Lebanese people still speak French...but the dialogues are "softer", more familiar, more feminine in French and Arab, than in the English Translation you'll read on the vidéo...a pity really...so be brave, watch this version instead, you'll get a better idea of the film...

and when you watch the film, a little thing to do, have in your pocket some santal or jasmine and smell it from time to time...fragances are the only things missing...

Caramel - سكر بنات

2007-08-16T02:41:00.001-07:00

be careful the dialogues aren't very well translated...Read the previous post...

Went to the cinema...

2007-07-08T01:59:00.000-07:00

Boxes

by and with Jane Birkin...

...a house somewhere in Brittany, by the sea...a woman among boxes...and life , memories coming back, men she loves, children she had, parents, old friends and acquaintances...dialogues sometimes in English, sometimes in French...
... and I laughed and cried, cried as much as the woman sitting behind me...a beautiful film, really moving and deep...I read somewhere: "you must know Jane Birkin's life well to understand it"...It's not true...I do know part of her biography, but there's much more in the film...
the story of women...relationships between women and daughters...one of the strongest sentence is:
"Ma, am I pretty? Am I what you expected me to be?"
we all wish to ask our mum that question...
we all wish her to answer: "yes"...even if she lies...
but what will our answer be when children ask us...
such terrible question, so difficult...so full of hope and fear...
all our life lies here...
and actresses, such extraordinary women, naked and old and thin and young and so beautiful and such poor bodies...and alhzeimer near, and napkins for old ones...naked bodies wearing scars and spots and wrinkles...but so extraordinary beautiful...so dignified...
Thank you Jane, thank you so much...

time for poems...

2007-06-22T10:34:00.000-07:00

For my new home, a poem by Anjela Duval, translated by Leonora Timm...
You may read more about Anjela at my friend's library: Oldwoman...

Serr-noz
DUSK

A gray sky --- low
Ashes; running into the black trees
A gray sky descending low
To wrap the earth in its soft coat
That extends the calm above the warren
...mysterious.
A bat
Circles silently---
Peaceful night!
And then, all of a sudden,
Down there against the flank of the hill,
An impatient bellowing
Tears through the night's peace...
A heifer strayed away.

November 1965.

2007-06-16T02:33:00.001-07:00

I found my home...

Every day bits of life...

2007-05-13T07:08:00.000-07:00

Here I am...A bit tired, disapointed by the results of French elections...but no choice, French people voted, we have to respect their vote...
Cortobeille left the French Alps, he's back to England...Birmingham airport Novotel...waiting for new adventures, new trainings...
I've finished washing, ironing dozens of clothes, white shirts , black trousers and socks...perfect waiter's clothes...My washing machine told me just the day before he left: Stop, I no longer work! So got to buy another one...
Sisters, do you realize how lucky we are to have washing machines...I found many details about their invention on the web, just click here...
we couldn't do without them...we could wash, but how could we thoroughly rinse sheets for instance...we have no rivers to go to...That reminds me something...I was about six or seven...I was buying bread at the bakery...a woman opened the door, she was pregnant, very pregnant, in French we say:"up to the teeth"...she was coming back from the river, her heavy wheel -barrow full of clean wet laundry...she just said: "Eh lady, can you phone the mid-wife , I'm ready, just got time to go back to the farm!!!" and she left, went home, and had her baby...that was about 54 years ago...yes, life was different...for us it's different...but in Africa, Afghan villages, Asia...in so many parts of the world it has not changed...
Do you know about Turkey? here it is...

Presidential elections...

2007-04-23T08:48:00.000-07:00

Her name is Maria...Maria Le Maréchal...She is one of the 40 millions people who voted in France yesterday...Maria is the last Bigoudene woman to wear her hair-dress everyday...She's beautiful...
Many people voted more than 84%...We all felt concerned...even if we lost so many illusions through years...
Segolene Royal came second...She's a socialist and for the first time a woman will take part in the final vote in France...That's important...but we must not forget what Françoise Giroud said: "Men and women will really be equal when inefficient women will be elected..."Segolene is not inefficient though I wonder where true socialist ideas are nowadays...

a special birthday

2007-04-12T12:11:00.000-07:00

today my son is 27...and every year I do feel ever so tired on his birthday...!...funny , his birth was so easy...so quick...he was a tiny baby...one day he went out of his pyjamas by the collar...my grandma said: "he's too small, her milk must be no good, don't know if he will survive!!!my sweet grandma!!!!!!!"

every year on his birthday I go back to Khalil Gibran...
http://leb.net/gibran/
this site is a bit confusing but there're so many things in it...

Children

And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, "Speak to us of Children."
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.

...............................................................................
giving birth was such an extraordinary experience, so deep, so wild, not painful but needing concentration...I felt so powerful...it was the full moon...the weather was beautiful and the night so clear...we had music..."animal apocalypse"by Vangelis...
that was great...

Bye Thersi...

2007-03-16T13:32:00.000-07:00

He was 62...
He was elegant...
He was intelligent...
He was an artist...
He was a great friend...
He was so clever when taking photos...
Breton people cry today...
Brittany isn't so bright tonight...
Bigoudene women mourned their friend, he made them laugh...
Fishermen and peasants loved him too...
The tide is sad in Concarneau's harbour...
The sea is grey...

We already miss him...
His name was Michel, Michel Thersiquel...

2007-03-08T01:59:00.000-08:00

Mereabeille, please, I don't know what to do...

Where can I meet Pixabeille...

What do you say?...ah OK...

Silence

2007-02-21T12:36:00.000-08:00

With some friends I was talking about aging...and we discovered we had this in common: we now love and need silence...so for all my frieds I sent this poem written by a beautiful Persian Poet who lived between 1320 and 1388...

Silence
A day of Silence
Can be a pilgrimage in itself.

A day of Silence
Can help you listen
To the Soul play
Its marvellous lute and drum.

Is not most talking
A crazed defence of a crumbling fort?

I thought we came here
To surrender in Silence,

To yield to Light and Happiness,

To Dance within
In celebration of Love’s Victory!

The Amish

2007-02-05T08:24:00.000-08:00

I just finished reading "Les Amish" by Anne Rolland-Licour...I also found two interesting web-sites about those communities, one very complete and one with some photos...I must confess I was very surprised that it all started in the east of France "Sainte-Marie-les-Mines" at the end of the XVII° century...In France...my country...where there're none left nowadays...

It's important to read these stories, to learn the way they live...even if our life is so different...we have to learn things...We're not obliged to share everything but we may ask ourselves a few questions:

Are all the modern things I have at home necessary?
Why do I sometimes try to look more beautiful or more intelligent than others ?
Why do I feel so impressed when I read about these people, though I don't believe in God ?
What is missing in my life that makes me envy these people though their life is so strict?

beautiful women...women...

2007-01-29T14:04:00.000-08:00

I saw these two beautiful women in a Swedish fashion-catalogue...Aren't they gorgeous...The catalogue is Gudrun Sjöden...photo on the right...

Elderly women , so cool, a real pleasure...

I also found a beautiful site with extraordinary photos of women...Have a look at it...I's called

Joan Myers photos...

She writes: "Where are the images of older women? Who defines what is beautiful?Is "beautiful"part of the definition of what a woman is? We all age daily. The body but records the passing of time. What does aging have to do with being a woman?"...

having some fun writing...

2007-01-21T03:32:00.001-08:00

You know these questionnaires you find on the web...I found one and had quite fun filling it...

Name a book you want to share so much that you give away copies...
A country year, living the questions by Sue Hubbell...so simple, so true, so woman like, so deep, so comforting...it must be so great to be her friend...a perfect book for getting old women, looking for their truth...Beautiful to read several times...then you have it on your bedside table or your bag, and when you've get five minutes you just open it at any page, and find a question ...or an answer...

Name a piece of music that changed the way you listen to music...
I am a woman of 1968's...back to nature, all that sort of things...so when I gave birth to my son, it was with music: Apocalypse des animaux from Vangélis Papathanassiou...such powerful music, helps you to concentrate, to relax, gives you strength...now when I listen to that type of music it gives me peace and energy...it's part of my life...music is life...

Name a film you can watch again and again without fatigue...
The bridges of Madison...the story is so sensitive, deep, true...no fussy words...nothing too much...that woman is so much in love with her husband...he's part of her life...but that photograph is part of her dream...we need a strong love to go on living day after day, educate children, work, ..but we do need dreams and secret loves to survive everyday routine and stress...even if you're so much in love with the man you live with, there's in you a place, a need for dream...

Name a performer for whom you you suspend all disbelief...
I must say I don't quite understand the end of the sentence...but I can tell you I do love Sean Connery, the political man and the performer...but now, not when he was young, much sexier now!!!he 's so handsome when he wears quilt!!!

Name a work of art you'd like to live with...
statues from Nikki Saint Phalle, the big Nanas, are so colourful and joyful, all statues made by women when they are round, full of flesh and life...
a dress made by Christian Lacroix, so full of colours, embroiederings,laces...beautiful work you appreciate when you like sewing...

Name a work of fiction which has penetrated your real life...
Certainly Little women by Louisa May Alcott, especially Joe her books, her copy-books and her personnality...and all books by Colette...when I was 17 somebody at school told me not to read Colette...not serious books, who might give young girls bad ideas because of homosexuality...I was so crossed that I decided to read everything about her and I did...that's also a writer to keep in your pocket from « Claudine » to « the birth of day »...

Name a punch line that always makes you laugh...
don't know any in English...
but I love this quote from Bob Hope:
« People who throw kisses are mightyhoplessely lazy... »

Fabienne Verdier, "The initiatory journey of a calligrapher"

2007-01-16T02:26:00.000-08:00

I just finished reading "Passagère du silence" written by Fabienne Verdier...a great book, a great adventure...After studying arts in France she wasn't really satisfied, needed some deeper experience so she decided to study traditional painting and calligraphy...In 1984 she arrived in Chongqing, a very polluted and populated Chinese city...with a small scholarship...she was poor but so much richer than the other students...she was completely isolated from Europe, and Chinese people at first...Life was very difficult, Chinese politics was so strict and suspicious about traditional art...Most statues, documents, monasteries, museums had been "revised" or sometimes merely destroyed...Life in universities was extremely difficult, (" and I discovered the Chinese toilets--40 or 50 women squatting side by side"...)but she worked and worked and persevered, in spite of all sorts of problems, fought isolation (...Absolutely forbidden to disturb the foreign student") managed to make friends and speak Sichuanese...
The teaching at university was completely westernized, but she succeeded in finding private masters...
Thanks to Huang Yuan she completed her "education"...years of hard work, learning modesty, humility, zen way of life...from 5 am in the morning until late at night...walking in the mountains for days and days...to try and approach truth...and to be able to paint with only a "single stroke of the brush"...
She wrote her story and you may see pictures of his art book "The single stroke of the brush" on this site...More pictures from herself are there...
She could have lost herself in that quest for perfection, but she met a man one day..."He put a brush in my hand and told me: show me what you have learned..." She was saved...

my book-cover

2007-01-05T10:37:00.000-08:00

I can't do without it...so useful for the book you carry in your bag, inside there is a small pocket for the post-its...I scanned the front page of my favourite books and transfered it on a strong material...the ribbons are there to mark the pages....I'll have to make several of different sizes...

Reading like breathing

2007-01-05T09:51:00.000-08:00

When I'm at home, I read in bed...I can't read sitting on a chair or even an amchair...I had to do so much reading at shool and college, in boarding-school and at home, compulsory readings ,readings for others...
Now I have my bed, a large one all by myself, a bed-side table with the lamp, the pencils, the paper, the post-it...I'm on my back , my head on a pillow and the book on my chest...I use a lot of post-it and don't even know if the word is the same in English...It's so useful to take notes whenever you want , whithout spoiling the books...Most of my books come from the library...I may borrow 11 at once, allright for a fortnight... I buy the ones I'll read several times...
I sleep with the books under the pillow, so whenever I wake up I can have it in a few seconds, just enough time to switch on the light...
I read every night , and when it's time to sleep I know it in a few seconds, sometimes the paragraph isn't even finished...I stop...maybe, I'll wake up at three am and I'll take the book again...I also read nearly every afternoon after lunch, not the same books...I'm very good at reading, I'm extremely clever at it!!! There's nothing I do best actually...I forget, ironing, cleaning...everything...
I can't live without it...
Reading in public-transports was delicious as well when I was commuting from Dinan to St Brieuc, I often missed the station...I still do it now I retired...Some bus-drivers know me well, last week I was reading at the bus-stop, I heard a big noise, the driver shouted:"do you come now or shall I pick you up when you finish the book? "
You often see people feeling nervous when they are waiting somewhere, at the doctors, after doing their shopping and waiting for a lift, at the airport, the post-office...I don't...I usually have the eyes in my book...always one in my bag...
I read several books at the same time...Oh I know not together, you know what I mean...
-One book to think, to go deep inside, one I've read and read...I read just a few pages at a time...
-One to discover new writers, love that...I'm very disapointed when I don't like it...
-One for the story, such as detective novels, as long as the writing-style suits me...I'm getting more and more exacting on the writing...
-and one because it's time for reading it... or because it looks fine or...
by the way...time to leave you...books awaiting...!

Solitude...death...

2007-01-02T01:50:00.002-08:00

Solitude is necessary...Loneliness is difficult, but not solitude...it seems obvious to you, but in France we only have one word to say both things... I need solitude, to read, to create things, to write, to blog, to be...I know we're alone in life, alone when you're born, alone when you die...It's not important...The more I read texts on Navajos the more I realize death isn't really important, as long as it's not to early of course!!!(lol)...I find it difficult to talk with people explaining how you must prepare it, do things for people to come after you, so that they can remember you...I only have to say to my son and my grandchildren, please when I'm gone don't bother thinking about me...don't waste time...everyday life is so important, the past is past, dead people are dead...as far as I am concerned I don't care about being buried or cremated, they 'll do what's easier for them, I'll be dead anyway so that won't matter...but we're far from solitude aren't we!!!so let's go back to it and Anjela Duval...

D'am digenvezded
TO MY SOLITUDE

Peaceful solitude. Wise friend;
With your thousand counsels. Your thousand secrets.
An endless tranquility. Messenger from the Sky
Thank you! Divine companion...
You, brimming over with winged life,
With trees, with flowers, with flowing water
In which every life is so pure
Every dream. Every tradition. Every intelligence.
Peaceful solitude. Friend.
Oh balm of my heart,
Consolation of my Soul. Encouragement of my will.
Speak to me. Sing to me. Rock me
With refrains from the earliest times,
Songs of the Sun. Songs of the Wind,
Ballads of our people in Paradise,
The Echo of the Angelus in the Sanctuary
And the sound of the sluice-gate in the mute valley.
Solitude full of magical songs,
Friend, I salute you.

4/19/1968.Read this poem in breton
Translated by Lenora Timm

Pixabeille, the fairy

2006-12-29T13:29:00.000-08:00

Up to the last days we didn't see much of Pixabeille in Plumpiemousie, she's always hiding in queer corners...

I was reading poetry last night and found a text that suits her perfectly...I love that little fairy she's so cute, nature, always ready to help...just have to call her, no need to shout, call her with your heart...she comes, always smiling...

The fairy by Padraig O'Connor

Discovered on the tip of my nose this morning was a fairy.'

Hello, I'm a fairy, ' said the fairy.'

I don't believe in you, ' I said.'

I believe in you, ' she said and off she flew

Into the blue blue afternoon she flew-

A new one, a new one, afternoon...

'I'm not real! ' she said in flight, 'I'm a creature of your mind.'

'I'm not real! ' she said in fright, 'I'm of the artists' replikind:

A flutterby,

A blend of pretty things you find.'

Indeed a cluttered fluttered mind

To Edelweiss and idleby,

But was it just a butterfly?

I wonder. ...

The almond tree

2006-12-15T23:09:00.000-08:00

"An old grandfather of ninety was busy planting an almond tree. "What, grandad!" I exclaimed, "planting an almond tree?" and he, bent as he was, turned round and said, "my son, I carry on as if I should never die." I replied, "and I carry on as if I was going to die any minute".
Which of us was right?"
Nikos Kazantzakis

what are we...

2006-12-08T10:28:00.000-08:00

How could you define a WOMAN...
if I watch Myriam and webster dictionary I find this:

woman/battered woman/ syndrome/fancy woman/little woman/other woman/strange woman/woman of letters/woman of the street/woman suffrage
Main Entry: wom·an Pronunciation: 'wu-m&n, especially Southern 'wO- or 'w&-Function: nounInflected Form(s): plural wom·en /'wi-m&n/Etymology: Middle English, from Old English wIfman, from wIf woman, wife + man human being, man1 a : an adult female person b : a woman belonging to a particular category (as by birth, residence, membership, or occupation) -- usually used in combination 2 : WOMANKIND3 : distinctively feminine nature : WOMANLINESS4 : a woman who is a servant or personal attendant5 a chiefly dialect : WIFE b : MISTRESS c : GIRLFRIEND 2 - woman adjective - wom·an·less /-l&s/ adjective

are we first females?
are we defined by our clothes?
our sex?
our body?
our mind?
our having or not children?

the right to have children or not to have children
the right to live alone, with a woman, or with a man
the right to live the way you want...

sisters of the web

2006-12-06T12:25:00.000-08:00

We can't live alone, we can't live without sisters, blood ones or soul ones...it's so important for a woman to communicate with other women...Think it can't be so important for men...It's so deep in us, we are women, part of a huge community, sharing the power of being female, giving birth and being witches...when we realize people millions of years ago didn't connect making love and having children...women were witches...even now giving birth is something so extraordinary, so powerful...
so my sisters of the web I love you dearly, and offer you a poem by kristina Davis...
************************************
From the precious moments when we were pearls,
To the sisters that we are now.
For every first and last there is,
To every secret that we have told.
Whenever there is a need for a shoulder to cry on or an open ear,
We are always somewhere near.
For all the tears that fall from our eyes,
To the laughter we will forever share.
From the little fights we have,
To the bigger wars that happen.
With every memory good or bad,
It will always be us sisters.
For every feeling named above,
Only between sisters can it be shared.
No matter what, no matter where,
I will always be there for my sisters.
(Sisters last forever)--Kristina Davis (Epsilon Theta Alumnae)

AIDS

2006-12-01T09:42:00.000-08:00

we fought to give them freedom
freedom for love
freedom for their bodies
freedom for their lives
we were women fighting for love and freedom
we thought: what we didn't have they will have
we were so happy
we thought, what a gift
but the beautiful red apple was poisoned
and young princes and princesses died, die, will die

what was it we did wrong?

2006-11-09T10:37:00.000-08:00

-How many girl-friends did you have before 1952?
-Oh plenty...so many...
-How many friends did you have after 1952?
-None...

In fact I only had five if I watch the photo, and surely the older ones were not very interested in my little self, but I had girl friends and I wasn't the eldest...

-How old were you when you left your village ?
-About nine or ten...

In fact I was only six, but I suddenly felt so old...

-How many brothers and sisters did you have?
-Several, and I remember with my best friend, teaching the little one to walk...

In fact I had four, but I didn't know I was the eldest...and I hated being the eldest...

2006-11-09T10:30:00.000-08:00

my childhood

2006-11-07T13:24:00.000-08:00

I heard of soul- collages...tried to do something...it's very difficult to put things on the paper...

2006-10-30T10:03:00.000-08:00

Helena left a comment saying how Autumn was a difficult season...I quite agree...specially with that grey damp weather...I'd love a very cold weather with a beautiful sunshine, killing all germs in our bodies and souls...
A friend sent me that quote today:
"Sometimes you've got to let everything go_purge yourself, if you're unhappy with anything. Whatever is bringing you down, get rid of it. because you'll find that when you're free, your true creativity, your true self comes out"
Tina Turner
We've got to make our renewal as well...

Time

2006-10-29T09:28:00.000-08:00

we changed hour this week-end...it's 6.30 pm it was 7.30 pm yesterday...I hate these changes...they say we save money on energy...wonder how...my boby hates it...iI feel uncomfortable...
I hate time, schedules...now I'm retired I stopped wearing a watch, and most of the day I don't care about the time...it's amazing to see some retired people hurrying all the time...when will they take time to live...
Was reading Tony Hillerman the other day...all he says about Navajo time...so interesting...
found something in Louise Erdrich too:
"What's yor love medicine? "I asked old Nanapush that evening...He lighted his pipe of kinikinnick , thought before he spoke.
"No clocks. These young boys who went to the Bureau school, they run their life on white time. Now me, I go on Indian time. Stop in the middle for a bowl of soup. Go right back to it when I've got my strength..."

life isn't always fair...

2006-10-22T07:02:00.000-07:00

Life and death...they are so terribly mixed up sometimes...my niece was five months pregnant when they discovered the baby was dead...so she had to give "birth" , to push out of her a little one who'll never know how she was so terribly sad...having to do this in the same hospital women rejoice with their new-borns is an awful experience...having to give the baby a name, and an official identity...may be it helps in a way...you put words on your suffering...but a miscarriage would have been stressless...Poor girl, that was her first baby...poor grandma, the same thing happened to her thirty years ago...
women have a difficult part in this world...
I joined bob's mum and lit a candle to remember ...

difficult decision...

2006-10-19T15:26:00.000-07:00

Sometimes you have to leave...and it's difficult...I had to, not long ago ...so tonight I try to find comfort in some old texts I keep in my copybooks

From Khalil Gibran
...................
Almustafa, the chosen and the beloved, who was a dawn onto his own day, had waited twelve years in the city of Orphalese for his ship that was to return and bear him back to the isle of his birth.
And in the twelfth year, on the seventh day of Ielool, the month of reaping, he climbed the hill without the city walls and looked seaward; and he beheld the ship coming with the mist.
Then the gates of his heart were flung open, and his joy flew far over the sea. And he closed his eyes and prayed in the silences of his soul.
But he descended the hill, a sadness came upon him, and he thought in his heart: How shall I go in peace and without sorrow? Nay, not without a wound in the spirit shall I leave this city.
Long were the days of pain I have spent within its walls, and long were the nights of aloneness; and who can depart from his pain and his aloneness without regret?
Too many fragments of the spirit have I scattered in these streets, and too many are the children of my longing that walk naked among these hills, and I cannot whithdraw from them without a burden and an ache....
.....Fain would I take with me all that is here. But how shall I ?
A voice cannot carry the tongue and the lips that give it wings. Alone must it seek the ether.
.......................
from Oprah Winfrey
It is confidence in our bodies, monds and spirits that allows us to keep looking for new adventures, new directions to grow in and new lessons to learn, which is what life is all about.
.....................
from Eleanor Roosevelt
I could not, at any age, be content to take my place by the fireside and simply look on. Life was meant to be lived. Curiosity must be kept alive. One must never, for whatever reason,turn his back on life.
.......................
from Thoreau
If a man doen't keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.

Churches

2006-10-12T12:26:00.000-07:00

I'm not a christian...I don't pray...

But I like sitting in churches, lighting candles

and think...

Would you like to light one?

Click here, it's magic, but don't do it for fun,

have somebody in mind...

Meareabeille , Sarah and Mousie

2006-10-06T14:23:00.000-07:00

When I started this blog I intented to make a village . English had to be the language, it's a useful one, easy to communicate...and it worked...but I also wanted to please my French friends, so I invented Docabeille...It was much more difficult than I expected...when you work hard to get ideas when you express them in a language you like it's so difficult to find a pleasant translation, even in your mother tongue...so gradually Docabeille is changing and he's finding another place...
Then I built "Le village sans dessus sans dessous". It was supposed to be the French version of Plumpiemousie...But gradually it's changing, having his own life...
That appeared to me tonight when Sarah posted...she's dreaming sometimes about new things, a new life or at least new hobbies...she's rediscovering the feminine part of herself...
But Mereabeille can't live the same way...she's so worried about finding her truth, deep inside...
that's the magic part of these blogs, allowing somebody to express all the different parts of her personnality...what was a problem, suddenly is a chance...
I even surprised myself when Mister bird opened his studio...poking one's nose in men's intimacy...so strange...
Where is truth, in hermit life, with friends in the hammam, in a cosy pub, in an art gallery a workshop or...A few months ago I would have answered nowhere, I now can say everywhere and is pleased with it...Don't be afraid Plumpiemousie is not going to turn into a regular journal...but on the contrary characters are going to get more and more freedom...
They not going to ask for my permission...

Christina of Markyate

2006-10-03T12:14:00.000-07:00

Also known as: Saint Theodora, Christina the Recluse

Born with the name of Theodora, her family tried to marry her to a man named Burthred after she resisted a seduction by the chief justice of England. But Christina had already taken a vow of virginity, deciding on a visit to St. Albans to become a nun. Her parents attempted to marry her to a nobleman, Burthred. Christina was pressured into betrothal but resisted consummation of the marriage, even an attempt by her young husband to force her.
She suffered persecution from her family for her stance. She finally escaped and ran away, staying with a nearby anchoress, Alfwen, hiding there for two years. After that, she took refuge with a monk, Roger, at St. Albans, still continuing to hide to escape her family and Burthred. Roger became her spiritual mentor. Finally, Burthred gave up his quest, and released her from her betrothal vows.

When Roger died, four years after Christina arrived there, he left the hut to her. The Archbishop of York took her under protection. She took up a hermit's life at Roger's hut, though not shut up as an anchoress. In 1131 she took formal vows. Geoffrey of Dunstable (d. 1146) founded a community at Markyate for Christina, whom he considered his teacher and friend. More women gathered around her, and in 1145 a house was built to house the larger community.
In the 1150s, a story of her life was published, probably by a chaplain serving her community, including her life story and an account of her visions. The manuscript was found by C.H. Talbot in the British Library and published in 1959. A St Albans Psalter which she used survives. The community survived until Henry VIII dissolved it along with other monasteries in England.

********************************

So many great women I have to discover...

going further...

2006-09-29T08:57:00.000-07:00

In 1968 we hade many dreams...
We wanted to live that way and be free and away from money, society...
We wanted complete freedom...
We wanted to be different, true, honest, pure...
Very few of us still live the same way...My friend Remi does...one of the last true man I know...
Theodore, I wish I could follow all what you said...
Learning solitude...
Hermit life, in my way...So I must read and meditate those texts...and learn...never stop learning...

Shabkar, Tibetan Buddhist Hermit
Shabkar Tsogdruk Rangdrol, or Zabs-dkar Tshogs-drug-ran-grol (1781-1851), is called by his translator the "perfect hermit." So much was he a model hermit that contemporaries considered Shabkar the reincarnation of Milarepa, the ninth-century Tibetan Buddhist hermit and composer of songs or dohas, compositions of instruction, reflection, and inspiration.

Shabkar developed ten "benefits of living in isolated places," based on the "King of Samadhi" sutra:
one's activities will be fewer
one will be far removed from noise and distractions
one will be free from quarrels
one will be free from harm
one will not let obscuring emotions increase
one will not create causes for discord
one will always enjoy perfect tranquility
one will keep one's body, speech, and mind under control
one will live in a way that is conducive to liberation, and
one will quickly reach complete freedom.

where is freedom land ?

2006-09-22T09:59:00.000-07:00

trying to find one's way

through life and people grumbling...

through blogs and creation...

through hope and despair...

through light and madness...

trying to find one's way

a place to breathe

a place to dream

a place to live

trying to find peace

2006-09-18T13:01:00.000-07:00

Deep on the mountain’s an unseen cloister;
Wicker shadows lock in the long bamboos.
Suddenly there’s a bell
Ringing now and then,
Empty valley filling with white clouds
Off drawing water, an old monk returns;
Pine-tree dew stains his robe green.
Bell barely murmurs; the cloister gate has closed.
Mountain birds, all by themselves,
Skirmish over roosting spots. -
Ch’en Fou (1240 – 1319)

found this poem on the web...that's the beautiful part of the web...it's a huge library, a huge community...I know that we may find the best and the worst...but we can't afford visiting all the countries, buying all the books...when I'm tired or not too well I love reading poems...I copy them on my blogs and print them on beautiful paper...but I always give the name of the author...the link to the site is in the title of this post...now, night is dark over Plumpiemousie, I'm going to bed with my books...I have a large bed and books in it and paper and pencils on the table...but I don't yet sleep with my computer !!!!!!

2006-09-13T03:29:00.000-07:00

please, please, don't take life too seriously, never forget to enjoy yourselves...
and this quote:
"Travel is a walk back to essential" Tibetan saying

getting tired

2006-09-11T13:08:00.000-07:00

House by the Side of the Road from Sam Walter Ross
*****************************************
THERE are hermit souls that live withdrawn
In the place of their self-content;
There are souls like stars, that dwell apart,
In a fellowless firmament;
There are pioneer souls that blaze the paths
Where highways never ran-
But let me live by the side of the road
And be a friend to man. ...
******************
when I am tired I love going to my caravan with a big bag full of books, the kettle, the teapot and some bread and fruit...I remember, the first time I went to the cinema in England, the film was:"Far from the madding crowd"...

2006-09-03T09:40:00.000-07:00

I left the light-house yesterday evening...want a new life...so I moved to the caravan...easier to go and visit friends...it's a magic one you need no car...now i prepared tea, I'm waiting for my sisters...

I just love this text !!!!

2006-08-28T04:05:00.000-07:00

Warning
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandles, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
Jenny Joseph

if you want to read the whole letter, go and see Oldwoman

2006-08-18T09:11:00.000-07:00

to blog i blog blog

2006-08-07T04:50:00.000-07:00

just realized dream and blog may be synonyms...that gives such freedom...

conversation

2006-08-03T06:18:00.000-07:00

Alexiabeille:"They're getting mad with all those changes! I've got too much work.I'm fed up!"
Mereabeille: "When you say you're fed up, look it!"

2006-07-30T15:55:00.000-07:00

BLOG FOR

...

widening.

creating

sharing

remembering

laughing

thinking

searching

finding

?????

Mum! I found you a boy-friend......

2006-07-29T12:48:00.000-07:00

Thank you Sisabeille... he's very handsome and so ...modern...I've not been to England for a long time...hum...need some holidays....Where's my travel bag?

my name is...

2006-07-28T03:24:00.000-07:00

My name is Mere Abeille. I come from Mousie's childhood...stories..."Once upon the time was a little girl..."of course she behaved badly...all those stupid things, she loved walking bare foot, wearing old clothes, didn't tie up her hair, was messy, didn't like household work, preferred walking or reading or dreaming...Yes, a very naughty little girl, full of hope and dreams and love and laugh and so delightful...but one who speaks the truth, one who says no, one who walks in the night...maybe, maybe not, I don't really know...maybe she was a shy little girl, always frightened, who dreamt too much and spent hours in her magic bubble, not to get hurt...I don't really know...Maybe I was right to take her away...that was so long ago, and life was so different then...Maybe we should start it all over again: "Once upon the time...

little ones...

2006-07-23T13:17:00.000-07:00

we do need little ones...Pixabeille sees so many things...I love her dearly...
Went for a walk this afternoon...sat and watched for a very long time, facing the sun ,peeping through branches...and then a cobweb appeared, lighted from behind...and I could see the beams so thin and moving...and little by little I realized the whole branch was dead and covered with cobwebs golden by the sun...there was a small universe, so near, so far,may be tiny fairies and insects...
on the way back picked up pieces of metal. the whole place used to be a garbage dump...grass and trees now grow...but old pieces come back sometimes as the earth settles...and they start a new life in Mousie's workshop...We'll have to tell their story one day, like we did for Cotton-wood.I love searching old dumps...things once existed, were useful to men, or just nice or....

Merabeille! quick!

2006-07-23T12:34:00.000-07:00

Mereabeille! Please call Mousie! I've found thousands treasures

for her work.

Teas for writers

2006-07-20T10:25:00.000-07:00

Souvenir from "Etonnants voyageurs" book festival in Saint-Malo (France)
an interesting work on teas, meetings with writers, paper making...

Tea of the Chinese Philosophers
green tea and of black tea with the flavours of lotus and poppy, strewn with flowers of jasmine.
Tea of the Writers - Italian
The pleasure of the flavour of fig and quince, associated the softness of hazel nut and the grape,
Tea of the Writers - Japanese
Traditional green tea with the cherry flavours, symbol of purethé with the country of the raising sun,
Tea of the Writers - Romantic German
The softness of the flavour of the chocolate and mango are confronted with the bitterness of the gentian, plants…
Tea of the Writers - Russian
The vodka aroma comes to heat the soft grapefruit and orange oils
Tea of the Writers - 2000 years of writing
Green tea scented of flavours of cinnamon and honey, decorated of two sachets of spices, cardamome…
Tea of the Writers - American
Tea of China to the subtle bergamot and sweet orange taste, exhaled by the freshness of green lemon. …
Tea of the Writers - English
Tea of China to the hot notes of caramel, cream, and vanilla, embellished by some petals of rose
Tea of The Writers-French
of the Indies with small sheets, flavour of vanilla ennobli of flowers

Pixabeille on the window sill...

2006-07-11T06:25:00.000-07:00

Shhhh....let her dream...

I'm young enough to please myself !!

2006-07-11T06:10:00.000-07:00

isn't it a cute place to rest between two flights in space ?

Marguerite's home...

2006-07-10T11:00:00.000-07:00

little by little the new owners demolish the old house...Marguerite we miss you...

first experiences with the digital camera...

2006-07-10T10:51:00.000-07:00

that moon is gorgeous, she'll tell me marvellous stories...

but don't ask me how I gave her this shape!

Nils dreaming...

2006-07-10T10:34:00.000-07:00

" Mum, I just found Father Christmas's entrance!"