photo : obviously, a photo from a winter different from the ones we have in Nelson, but the feeling is the same. Ottawa River. This ghostly vision spontaneously inspired a(n almost) rhymed poem in French (not so much in English, though)
We found our ghosts/
where we had placed them/
in the river of our dreams/
where they fell asleep/
listening our lies/
but the music was nice/.
*put online in 2024, edited in 2025
photo: Bustards on the Ottawa River preparing for a long migration.
photo : Bustards on the Ottawa River preparing for migration
Floating on one’s certainties
one’s reassuring habits
But it’s time now
to fly against the wind
and tides we will lose feathers
we will stretch our necks
We’ll learn how to tumble down
Landing in the dunes
photo: On the banks of the Ottawa River, a few years ago, winter always produce beautiful contrasts even when it is an abandoned carcasse.
Coming back from the depths/
The light blinds me but/
Signs of humanity/
leave some traces/
in the hill by the water/
