half a year







In three days, it will be 6 months. Half a year.

My first birthday and Gabriele’s have gone by without your phone call. And the first summer without seeing you, without you telling me how you enjoyed the images I sent you. Winter will be here soon and it will bring your birthday with it, the first where I won’t get the chance to ask myself what would make you happy. And the first Christmas without going present shopping together. Then spring will come and Chiara’s birthday with it, without you enquiring about her party. After that, the bulbs you offered me will bloom.

When March comes, the circle of these first twelve months « without » will be complete. Day after day we will have learned – more or less lightheartedly – to live with your absence and to let go of our habits together in order to make room for learning how to feel your presence differently.

In 6 months, the second « life-after » circle will begin, then the third, the fourth and so on, without us noticing. Day by day we will live our lives with your renewed presence by our sides and together, we will create new memories.

Everything will be different on the surface, of course, but maybe not so much so on the inside. Because to me it is cristal clear that you, who have taught me to love the changing seasons and their cycles, you are most certainly there, somewhere, smiling at us as you witness each new leaf sprout in our lives.





Rome is a light that you’d recognize anywhere.

A technicolor sky, reflections on the river and birds flying up above.

It’s the great beauty, flowered balconies, crowded restaurants and open bars.

A traffic mess, cars anywhere, dirty streets, messy public services.

It’s a never-ending vacation, a mellow and joyful decadence.

Rome equals time slowing down.

And finding yourself  by the river over and over, catching a different sunset each time.

fluctuat nec mergitur



Going back to this square, tiptoeing. So many people, flowers, candels. Flashes and cameras everywhere as in a morbid reality show. Being tempted to back away. Finding strenght and holding one’s hand to thread sidewalks that have long been familiar and friendly. In summertime, wintertime. Alone, with friends. Eyes wide open. To not let anything go unseen. Making myself go back once, twice, three, four times until the fear is under control. Covered in new laughters and memories.

Because Life is so beautiful still. And there is still so much so see and live and cherish. Because Life isn’t shorter or more fragile today than it was before. It was and still is one blink of the eye. There are no more or less questions, or certainties. Except that there is Light and there are shadows. We only have the power to use our freedom to look for the Light even in the darkest hour. And to carry it forward.

Peace out, friends.

every sun ray



There is light, there are shadows. There’s a time for thinking over, evaluating, getting ready. A time for waiting, that might seem neverending and useless. But it never is. Because every time, a day comes when you wake up and it’s time for action. For actually seeing yourself doing the very thing you had geared up for for so long. So long without anything happening that you were almost loosing the faith. And there it comes, that day. And when it comes, each and every time, it takes you by surprise. As a flower deciding to bloom on a Tuesday rather than a Saturday, on a morning rather than an afternoon. It might seem by chance but it isn’t and you know it. It’s the result of countless rain drops and sun rays and chains of events, some of which are visible and some will never be known. And it’s utterly amazing, isn’t it? But even more amazing is the fact that on that day everything suddenly appears cristal clear and simple. Oh so very simple. And even though you are scared and you don’t know how you’re going to do it, deep down inside you’re at peace, finally, because you know, once again, that everything is gonna be just fine.


Wishing you a sweet evening friends

this light



There are days when you’re in one of the places you love the most, at the hour that you prefer and with a camera on hand. People pass you by, friends may speak to you but you’re only half there. Your mind eager with anticipation.

And maybe it’s because you know you won’t get more chances for weeks or months, but you just wait for that moment that could – should – be about to happen as the most precious gift.

And if you’re lucky enough for it to happen while you’re right there waiting on the first row, that the Roman light turns that particular shade of gold and slowly paints the water below, the walls, the leaves – you just feel your heart might burst and you’re at a loss for words. There you remember exactly why you so often bother to carry a camera with you. Because one needs a tool to share the world, its light and shadows, whenever words are just not enough.

Sweet evening friends.

venice II






« Not all that wander are lost » J.R.R. Tolkien

Venice by night, from above, is a spot in the sea you can barely tell from the sky / it’s a bus crossing a sad plane / pouring rain / sea smell / heart beating faster / eyes stuck to the side window / half-deserted steamboats / a city that appears and disappears / lingering / appealing.

It’s walking on rainy alleys / turning back / going forth / laughing out loud ’cause you’re lost again.

It’s a velvet curtain leading to yellow-earth walls / merry familiar tones that mend your heart / steaming dishes / toasts and joy.

Dozing Venice lets itself be sweetly tasted / silently walked through. It’s the echo of your footsteps / water splashing / the wind on your face / lights sparkling on the other side.  It’s a swinging bed / sleep falling over you as if you were a child.

Venice in the early morning is grabbing something to put on and rushing outside. It’s the sea smell / church bells somewhere / wind / clouds rushing by.

It’s your eyes full of wonder / water and sky / sky and water / all around you. It’s walking leisurely / smelling the air / deserted alleys.

It’s crossing a threshold and entering a different dimension / eyes open / lights / shadows / what you feel you don’t need to understand.

Venice is the new and the old / up and down / bridges to cross / water to bless you. It’s an uninterrupted wonder of light and colors.

Venice is this and a thousand things more.

my hometown






A typical Roman winter day.

Cold but sunny.

Bathing in the brightest light,

under a perfect blue sky.

Une nuit spéciale – A special night #2

La nuit entre le 12 et le 13 décembre est une nuit spécial dans beaucoup de pays du nord et aussi dans ma famille du côté maternel: c’est la nuit où la Sainte Lucie descend du ciel et apporte des douceurs aux enfants sages.

Quelle émotion, enfant, ce coucher-la, en regardant le ciel étoilé qui n’était plus vide et obscur au dessus de nous, mais soudainement tout habité par cette présence amie. Combien d’heures passées au fond de mon lit à guetter le moindre bruit sur le balcon. A l’imaginer, elle qui remplissait nos chaussettes de dons, chaque année, sans que personne ne l’aie jamais vue. Combien d’allers-retours pipi/j’ai soif/j’ai pas sommeil, juste pour jeter un œil si elle était déjà venue. Et son âne, il pouvait donc vraiment voler? Qu’il était dur de s’endormir ce soir-la, même si on savait qu’il le fallait pour qu’elle vienne. Quelle émotion, au petit matin, en se ruant vers le salon où juste les lumières du sapin clignotaient. On cherchait des yeux et la, on les apercevait, nos chaussettes gonflées et boursouflées  de bonbons, fermées avec joli ruban rouge ou vert. Quelle joie inoubliable, de les retrouver là, encore une fois! Que c’était beau de croire en cette magie. Et puis, plus tard aussi, en comprenant que la magie était réelle dans le don et l’amour de celle qui faisait vivre cette tradition, année après année.

Comme alors, demain soir les enfants choisiront leurs chaussettes à déposer devant la cheminée (toujours les plus grandes, bien sur). Une carotte et de l’eau pour  l’âne devant la fenêtre. Ils iront se coucher et la magie opèrera, comme elle l’a toujours fait.

Mais demain soir (enfin, dès qu’elle peut), la Sainte Lucie exceptionnellement déposera aussi une chaussette garnie à la porte de celle qui l’a si longtemps aidée à rendre les enfants heureux. Parce qu’il n’est jamais trop tard pour dire merci, n’est-ce pas.

En images, quelques souvenirs d’un concert en célébration de la Sainte Lucie organisé par l’Ambassade de Suède à Paris dans la Basilique Sainte Clotilde. Quel moment magique! Les jeunes choristes ont chanté avec beaucoup de justesse et de douceur et quelle émotion quand la jeune fille qui interprétait la Sainte Lucie a rejoint le coeur apportant sa lumière, pour ensuite repartir en guidant le choeur à illuminer la nuit.  Quelle jolie symbolique! Un moment hors du temps.

Douce nuit les amis, et n’oubliez pas de regarder le ciel…

** Vous pouvez encore participer au concours de Noël! **

Vite, vite, le tirage au sort aura lieu dimanche soir.

Bonne chance!











The night between the 12nd and the 13th of Decembre is special to many Nordic countries and therefore to my mother’s family. It’s the night when Saint Lucy flies down from the sky and brings sweets to children who have been good.

How I loved this evening when I was a child. How sweet it was to look at the starry sky, no longer cold and empty, but full of this friendly presence. How many hours did I spend picturing her while tucked in my bed. How was she, this lady who would bring us sweets without anyone ever seing her? How long would I lie awake waiting for the slightest noise outside the window.  How many I’m thirsty/can’t sleep/must go to the toilet just to be able to glance if our stockings were already full. And her donkey, could it really fly? Oh  my, it was tough to fall asleep. Yet I knew I had to in order for her to come. How expectantly we would jump out of bed in the morning and dash to the living room where the lights of the Christmas tree would flicker in the darkness. Our eyes would scan the room for one second and there, in front of the mantelpiece, stood our stockings now (so) full of sweets and topped with a nice ribbon. How incredibly happy I was that the magic had worked once again! How good it was to believe in that magic. And later on too, realizing that the magic was in the gift and the love of the person who did carry along this tradition, year after year.  

Tonight, as we used to, my children will choose their stockings and put them in front of the mantelpiece (the biggest ones, hey, they’re not kidding either). A carrot and some water for the donkey in front of the window. They will go to bed and the magic will happen, as it always did.

But tonight (well, as soon as she can) Saint Lucia will exceptionally deliver a stocking full of sweets to that same lady who spent so many years helping her making children happy. Because it’s never too late to say thank you, isn’t it. 

Pictured above are souvenirs from a special celebration of Saint Lucia which was hosted by the Swedish Embassy in the Sainte Clothilde Basilica in Paris. The young choristers had such lovely voices and the crowed room was enchanted when the young girl playing Saint Lucia appeared in the alley bringing light with her then leading the whole choir to brighten the dark night outside. What a beautiful, timeless moment.

Sweet dreams, friends.  And don’t forget to look up at the sky…

**  You can still enter the Christmas giveaway! **

Hurry up before Sunday evening. Good luck!

This moment #48

*Ce moment-là*

Un rituel hebdomadaire, inspiré de la rubrique de SouleMama: une photo spéciale, sans (ou parfois avec) commentaires. Un arrêt sur image sur un petit grand bonheur, du quotidien ou extra-ordinaire, que j’ai envie de chérir et garder hors du temps. Si le cœur vous en dit, insérez votre lien dans un commentaire pour que tous puissent le voir.


*This moment*

A weekly ritual, inspired by SouleMama’s blog. A special picture, without (or sometimes with) subtitles. A unique, everyday or extra-ordinary  delight that I want to record and cherish. If you wish to do the same, do share your link in a comment for all to see.