photo: there is nothing simpler than a rose and yet, it only takes an angle, a background, a little something, and the magic happens.
The past, we remember it, we regret it, or we forget it.
The future, we await it, we dream of it, or we idealise it.
The present, we flee from it, or we live it.
photo : walking by the river, one discovers different things every day, depending on the light and the moode of the day . At low tide, soil debris allows the tough flora to take hold.
in the stone’s shadow/
wildflowers have bloomed on the/
banks of the river/
*posted in 2024, revised heavily in English, in 2025
photo : in Pohara, the poppies are illuminating my morning walks
in December we
court with the light in the
southern hemisphere
photo : it is the background I like in this photo, as the shadows seem to hover over the foreground, a bit like our unconscious dominates us in a way we hardly suspect.
In the quiet recesses of the mind, the unconscious /
the contours of which are traced with delicate touches of trembling memories/
is quietly agitatting in order to invade the soul/
thoughts are emerging like fragile icicles/
The cold seeps through the light/
What secrets are hidden here? Half-formed thoughts/
elusive and dancing at the edge of reason.
photo : near the Matai, the end of summer flowers have something that is both glorious and sad.
Like always, we will rush to the pink of the field, and will keep it in the collapsing cloud, then in a few months time we’ll revisit it by the fireside. What ? Was it really that blue?
