The bliss of an autumn Sunday,
in one of the most authentic flea markets in Paris.
Blessed by a golden light announcing the winter months ahead
and the unique, inimitable, smell of a time long gone.
When there ain’t much to say, except there is a whole lot to feel.
Is it the endless shades of color, the wide range of shapes, the never-ending discoveries or the beauty to behold?
All of this, yes.
But first and foremost, the underlying but so powerful urge to live and grow of every living being.
As a silent river that runs deep deep down, who sometimes whispers and sometimes roars, forever carrying its morse code message from cell to cell.
« I threw my cup away when I saw a child drinking from a stream with his hands »
between light and shadows
willing and being able to
wishing and doing
reasons and heart
One of those summer nights that seem never to come to an end.
When you stay out late,
your hair still wet,
chasing every bit of light,
while the sky and the sea turn every shade of blue.
a haze of hot days spent seeking the coolest spots at the sound of cicadas.
anaps of laughters and diving
pic-nics with friends,
hands picking wild berries,
ice creams dripping and mozzarella bubbling on our pizzas.
and bridges, many bridges crossed of course,
A summer afternoon in Fregene
before the storm.
The empy beach,
sand swirling around,
seagulls playing up above.
Our picnic plans messed out
but what we found was just as good