Far from the madding crowd

Today, three celebrations in one for this post: surely the deal of the year, you can't say no to this, especially given the rampant crisis.

Let's start with the official celebration in The Netherlands: April 30 is known as Queen's Day around here, synonym of a day off (usually under buckets of tedious rain), drinking binge, loud music and masses of people randomly carrying you around without even letting you touch the ground - think vulgar Mary Poppins. Not my cup of tea, even though last year I did make an effort and plunged into the surrounding mess.

I had no intention though of making the same mistake twice, so this year I listened to a different tune to enjoy the day, the desperate cry of my mind and body: "REST! REST!". I could not ignore the obvious signs of exhaustion and keep going around bleary eyed, not even for one more day. I was craving for a peopleless, careless and stressless day, possibly to be spent outdoor, listening to birds chirping. The sky kindly allowed us to celebrate Queen's Day-my-way: beautiful day, nice temperature, no wind. I was out of the apartment in a second, picnic in the bike's side bag, hubby and fantabulous dog in my wake, ready to go bucolic.

And this is where the second celebration comes into the picture: about a week ago, we celebrated hubby's birthday and among the countless presents and surprises, there was a beautiful camera. I guess we are still celebrating his birthday and will do so every time we take a picture. The Nikon D60 is a fantastic high-tech toy we are still trying to master given its unlimited options and features, while having simple fun taking test pictures and enjoying sheer satisfaction when the result matches the idea of the picture we had in mind. Needless to say, the luscious woods and river bank we went to today were our favorite targets, together with super dog.

Last but not least, a celebration quite dear to me: this blog is 1 year old. I should probably celebrate this by confessing that I never thought for one minute that I could manage writing ideas here for so long. It all started like a fun experiment and here I am, 12 months later, still happily typing away and uploading pictures - and watch out of the ones taken with the new camera. This being said, I guess the real best way to celebrate this anniversary is to thank you all for your kind words and support, from family members to friends! It is still fun for me to be around here, and I hope it still is for you too. Will I be able to carry on another year?

To be continued...

Il y a longtemps loin d'ici...

...Vivaient dans un pays étrange et merveilleux des petits lutins joyeux..." Vous voyez où je veux en venir ? Retour en Belgique et surtout à Anvers. A bien y réfléchir, il n'est pas si loin que ça ce pays et Anvers nous a ouvert ses portes il n'y a pas si longtemps que ça. Ah, vous ne vous souvenez plus du billet sur Anvers ? La mémoire, ça ne se vend pas en barre (quoi que, votre ordinateur vous contredirait certainement à ce stade-là) au supermarché, alors il va falloir enquêter dans les billets précédents pour vous y retrouver. Faut suivre aussi.

A croire que c'est un Schtroumpf bien inspiré qui a guidé mes pas dans le centre d'Anvers l'ensoleillée, jusqu'au Monte Cristo. Déjà, le nom, tout un programme je vous dis ! Et là, c'est une lectrice qui a avalé les histoires rocambolesques du comte en deux temps trois mouvements, l'espace d'un été à la plage, qui vous parle. Poussez la porte de cette chocolaterie et vous voilà subtilement enveloppé dans un parfum doux amer de chocolat, épices et sucre, je ne vous dis que ça. A faire saliver tout le village des Schtroumpfs sans détours. Dans la petite cour du fond, nous sommes certes à l'étroit, mais c'est tout de même charmant ; pour couronner le tout, les deux passionnés responsables de ce petit trésor de savoir-faire chocolaté sont plus que disponibles pour vous expliquer comment sont réalisées ces petites truffes si joufflues au piment rouge. Le feu sous la douceur, vous voyez ? Le discours passe et la passion aussi, alors nous nous attablons pour quelques spécialités de la maison : café anversois et café frappé, les deux noblement accompagnés d'un assortiment de chocolats choisis pour vous. Il ne faut pas avoir froid aux yeux, c'est sûr, mais cette petite découverte enchanteresse vaut le détour et mon petit doigt me dit que vous n'aurez aucun mal à vous laisser guider.

(Ce qui vaut un peu moins le détour, en revanche, c'est le site Internet de la boutique : mal conçu, criard et confus, il n'a absolument rien à voir avec la boutique et c'est franchement tant mieux - et dommage aussi !)

Repue de douceurs, c'est le sourire aux lèvres et toujours plus affamée de découvertes que je pousse la porte d'une petite boutique sombre et aux couleurs raffinées, où bougies, soins pour le corps et objets insolites et lointains m'emportent vers l'Inde.

Changement de décor soudain et d'autant plus efficace, les pupilles se dilatent pour mieux admirer l'élégante mise en espace faite d'étagères enchâssées dans le mur, ainsi que chaque objet que le propriétaire n'aura aucun mal à vous présenter : de la boîte à épices à l'urne pour le riz revue et corrigée, tout y est. Les objets sont peu nombreux et présentés comme dans un musée, chacun dans une alvéole, pour mieux en souligner la préciosité.

Décoration et soins du corps font bon ménage dans une atmosphère soignée et feutrée qui ravit tous les sens. Lorsque je referme la porte du magasin, le soleil, la foule et le vacarme m'agressent comme une injure. 

Sous le choc et encore aveuglée par la lumière du jour, je vois un petit Schtroumpf sur le trottoir d'en face me faire un clin d'oeil, histoire de dire : "Je te l'avais bien dit".

Viaggi

Si puo' viaggiare in molti modi; questa volta ho scelto di seguire gli uccelli ed i loro canti.

Partenza dal profondo sud con l'accompagnamento assordante delle cicale nel gran caldo del giorno ed il cinguettio serale dei passeri del patio. Poi si torna al fresco del nord: un paese lindo, ordinato, silenzioso; si sente solo scendere nella cappa della cucina il lamento di una tortora, ogni tanto. In treno ora, ancora piu' a nord: qui ritrovo movimento fisico e mentale; come uccelli, solo i piccioni (che non mi piacciono, ma per fortuna ho altro a cui pensare). E poi ancora un altro treno verso i gabbiani, verso i cigni reali, spendidi nel loro volo ma dalla voce sgradevole. 

Qui c'e' pero' una coda che si agita vorticosamente, senza strepiti: siamo arrivati!

A warm welcome to our (blog)guests

Over the past weeks, there have been a few new entries in this blog (Train of thoughts, City Lights), improvements readily inspired by some post ideas that simply did not fit into the existing categories, in my humble author opinion, you see. As pictures, ideas and posts dangerously fill my brain -and computer- to the brim, new developments need to be implemented - this sounds so office-like, goodness. Bottom line is: you have not seen the last change yet around here!

In a bright light-bulb blogging moment, I thought that it would be cosy to invite guests over, just as we do in our everyday life. Guests bring news from their own world, the outside world with their very personal touch, ideas, beliefs and experiences. They bring fresh air and stimulate us, encourage us to open up our cosy psychological and four-wall nest. We enjoy having guests over very much, so I think I will enjoy just as much having guests over in this blog. Sounds fair, doesn't it? 

Unlike in real life though, guests pushing open this blog's door will have their very own room. Can't win them all. 

At least, in computer fairyland, I can offer them a free space where they can express themselves, decorating the walls and floors as they best see fit, chosing the colors and hues and leaving their specific footprint whenever and however they wish (possibly no inflatable blue mattrass around here then - arent' you happy, guests?). 

Welcome, dear guests, in the Guest Room, a brand new post category, for your writing only.

Break

It is too early for our dinner appointment; nobody has arrived yet, the restaurant is half empty while outside the sun is softly declining and the street is still full of the market edible and audio leftovers: fish, rotten vegetables, damaged fruit, seagulls and pigeons that are noisily feasting on the discarded food, while passersby walk slowly and dreamingly, only too happy after the last working day of the week and the joyful prospect of an orangy sunset and sunny week-end. 

Where can I go to kill off time?

Let's push open the door of my favorite café, just around the corner: the light is soft, two big vases compliment tall violet flowers with their heads still up despite the warm day, a few people are sitting leisurely at the tables by the big window and another few at the big wooden table, some with their computers on. Perfect location for a short break before moving on to the planned dinner with friends. Perfect, my body and mind both tell me so and I have learnt to trust them.

With a nice cup of frozen cappuccino and the entertaining book of the moment under my nose, I plunge head first into this solitary moment, reading one page after the other with utter relish. The match between the soft and lenient atmosphere of the ending day and the epistolary novel is soothing, no matter how cruel some of the anecdotes on the German occupation of Guernsey are. I like the characters of this bejewelled book, and I have grown fond of their island, despite their wartime scars: there is so much strength and hope seeping out of their every story and adventure that it can only lift my heart and rapture my interst and fascination. The minutes fly by while in the background I faintly hear the echo of the coffee machine, the blender and the chit chat of the two trendy Amsterdam girls focused on their own storytelling and bits of life. 

A truly peaceful break in fulfilling literary company.

Telltale table

Sometimes everyday things can be so revealing in their subdued way, almost secretely. Take our battered living room table: I find it tells more than our looks right now (and looks can be deceiving but they can also tell a lot, so beware). That is how, when you least expect it, small things can betray your real you. Now, what is your real you? Well, you know: your experiences, what you like, what you dislike and so on. Take your handwriting, for example: if I remember correctly, we were even given lessons in school on how to write certain letters and how not to write some others because then experts would be looking into that and making a great portrait of who you are, based on the dot on your letter "i". Boy, am I glad I live in computer era. 

By taking a look at our living room table - yes, there is a leading thread in this post - I decided to read the vibes the little or big objects it is housing reveal to the (newly) expert eye. Of all days, the picture you can see above was taken after a busy and fascinating Amsterdam walk, so the table had a lot to tell, not to mention that you can easily see that the folks are in town! Just see how crowded the space is compared to the usual immaculate table and to the lonely presence of our imposing opaline vase and its flowers! If you look at the picture, you see that the vase has lost its predominant position and is besieged by countless other revealing items from all walks of life:

-The tea sachets: they come from the Tea Bar, in Amsterdam. A neat little place that houses a shop specialized in teas and herbal teas of all sorts, and a tea parlor on the first floor. The atmosphere is friendly and very relaxing, mostly thanks to the white design of the walls, the welcoming wooden tables that can sit up to 6 people around a hot cup of champagne and raspberry tea. Lovely. One of the sachets contains dried lavender, simply inspired by the lovely lunch we had at Gartine where desert included lavender whipped cream on a cute little cupcake. The other sachet contains strong and fragrant citrus tea leaves: my mom has in mind her summer iced tea, a tradition we cannot dispense with under the southern Italian sun. Summer holidays, here I come!

-The newpapers: the family looooooves reading newspapers, online, on paper, on the moon or in the subway, you name it. The favorite ones? The Corriere della Sera and Le Monde. The pink pages of the Gazzetta dello Sport can also be seen around the house, needless to say, to satisfy football lovers' interest. They are simply an additional presence for us, these newspapers.

-The dark chocolate bar: for those who do not know (anyone out there still?!) I totally live on chocolate. My favorite one is the Valrhona, but it is difficult to come by these days... So I carry around what I find and I am even known to always have chocolate in my bag. It never hangs around for long enough to melt, mind you. Indispensable, I tell you, to survive anywhere.

-The necklace: its beads are an imitation of opal stones, my favorite ones. The necklace also reflects my hobby of necklace making and beads, a nice relaxing hobby that makes winter hours fly by. The necklace broke once and I managed to make it again - and I was a proud little woman that day. Which makes me think that I still have lying somewhere beads I bought last year and I still have not used. I will certainly go idea hunting before summer starts for some fresh creations.

And on and on I could go for hours about each and every object lying on the table: each of them is linked to a family member, for better or for worse, each of them has a story to tell. Whether I want it or not! 

Amsterdam

Béguinage

Un titre simple pour vous guider à travers les rues et les photos qui ont enchanté cette journée ensoleillée et magique que nous avons passée à Amsterdam avec mes parents. Aucun besoin d'une introduction élaborée et rococo pour embellir ces clichés qui en disent long, très long sur le bonheur de chaque instant partagé entre canaux, rues, ruelles et haltes gastronomiques (oui, c'est possible, même en terre batave, il faut avoir les adresses quoi...). Suivez le guide !

Gartine

Au bout de l'Haarlemmerstraat

Béguinage

Les blogs qui ne présentent que des images aux yeux avides des internautes m'ont toujours semblé trop simplistes : certes, une photo peut en dire plus qu'un long discours, mais tout de même, je trouve que c'est choisir une solution de facilité. Je vais sûrement m'attirer à présent les foudres des internautes et blogueurs passionnés de photographie, mais il faut vivre dangereusement. Une personne que j'ai longtemps admirée et qui a contribué à me faire aimer les études, disait souvent : la vie est une longue aventure (intonation nasale, SVP). Voilà, je suis prête à assumer mon avis. 

Lancez les tomates !

Même pas mal car pendant que vous vous décidez à me prendre pour cible en choisissant les fruits les plus juteux, je continue à rêver les yeux grands ouverts dans le sillage de cette journée sous le signe de l'émerveillement citadin, fidèle à ma vocation.

Fleuri !

Comme un effet de miroir, ce qui se passe dans la mode en ce moment : les fleurs poussent sur toutes les robes, dans les cheveux, sur les sacs et même à la pointe de vos prochaines chaussures d'été. Si, si, regardez bien : ça pousse partout. Regardez encore de plus près et vous verrez une fois de plus que la tendance ne fait que refléter ce qui se passe sur votre balcon, dans votre jardin  voire potager. Nous n'avons vraiment rien inventé et la nature, même dans ce domaine de haute frivolité, reste notre muse !

Dans l'air du temps donc, je tenais à partager les photos postées ici parce que je les trouve romantiques, fraîches, spontanées (et lorsque l'on sait la montagne de travail, de larmes et de sueur que ce défilé a dû coûter, je dis vive la spontanéité, hein et bravo Nina Ricci), bucoliques et surprenantes : elles changent de l'ordre bien rangé qui semble souvent régner dans les défilés - oh, je vous rassure tout de suite, je n'ai jamais assisté à un défilé, mais le nom même "défilé" me fait penser au 14 juillet et aux petits soldats de plomb marchant en rythme tels des automates au parcours tout tracé. En même temps, je dois avouer ne pas savoir à quel moment ces photos ont été prises : avant, pendant ou après le défilé ? Peu importe, finalement : les filles y ont l'air d'autant de nymphes baignées dans la lumière chaude et insouciante de la fin d'une journée légère et printanière. Ces photos sont d'une féminité absolue, dénuées de toute vulgarité. Un peu de nouveauté, finalement, dans le champ fleuri de la mode de ce printemps-été 2009.

Bon week-end à tous et n'oubliez pas : une fleur à la boutonnière s'impose.

I am reading...

Family sagas are always fascinating, as opposed I would guess to family...lives. Or maybe not: isn't every family life a saga after all, with its joys, tragedies, choices, novelties, challenges? This one will take you from China to Hong-Kong and to England as the story teller travels in the wake of historical events and learns how to fend for herself, inheriting the fighting spirit and ambition of her ancestors. An interesting book, despite somewhat a lack of rhythm in the way it is written. Still, a pleasurable trip and source of wisdom that will do any reader good - keep your eyes out for those proverbs at the beginning of each chapter, they may turn to be useful in the course of your own family saga.

Perfect to read while lying on the couch and listening to the singing birds outside in the sunny patio this afternoon...perfect...

Sweet Mandarin by Helen Tse

L'oeuf

A Pâques, l'oeuf est une institution, l'incontournable élément de toute quête gustative et enfantine qui se respecte. Vous n'aimez pas le chocolat ? Ce qui suit est la variante qu'il vous faut. Encore une petite "recette" revenue tout droit de mon enfance, merci maman, merci papa. 

K., encore un petit billet pour toi ! 

Histoire de caler les petites faims vers 4 heures de l'après-midi et histoire de me faire échapper aux biscuits sucrés aux ingrédients secrètement chimiques, ou à l'absence de biscuits industriels de nos placards, je me voyais gentiment proposer un oeuf. Oui, un oeuf. Tout beau, tout poli. Le célèbre "uovo sbattuto", un oeuf fouetté (le jaune) avec une avalanche de sucre jusqu'à ce qu'il en devienne pâle et mousseux à vous faire saliver d'avance. Alors certes, un oeuf fouetté ça se mérite à la force du poignet et du bras que vous aurez préalablement bien musclé ; si vous pensez déballer votre goûter d'un joli petit paquet aux couleurs vivaces d'un coup de pouce ou de ciseaux bien ajusté, c'est raté. Le plaisir de cette substance délicatement jaune et vaporeuse n'en est que décuplé, remarquez.

Comme dans toute préparation archi-simple, il y a une règle d'or (qui vous évitera l'hôpital, tout de même, alors mieux vaut me prendre au mot) : l'oeuf doit être TRES FRAIS. Alors, si vous habitez à la campagne, l'heure de gloire est arrivée : sortez votre petit vélo (à guidon chromé au fond de la cour, si vous voulez, si vous voulez) et mettez-vous en route en chantant les cheveux aux vent pour la ferme la plus proche, celle qui vous donnera l'oeuf parfait à la fraîcheur incontestable. Vous pourrez par la même occasion constater que les poules, et bien non, elles n'ont pas de dents.

Bonne promenade bucolique !

South of the border

The Belgian city of Antwerp traditionally lies on our itinerary when we travel south to France; it lies on our itinerary, but we never stop, too preoccupied to get to our final destination where appointments of all kinds await us - it seems that just like in a computer game, we have no time to linger, just a target to reach with no space for improvising. In a way, Antwerp has always been sacrificed on the altar of travel efficiency. 

Not anymore, thanks to the long Easter week-end, half of which was lazily spent in the capital of diamond trade. Whether Antwerp is still this capital, it is a bit unclear to me, given that there has been a contest of supremacy for years with Amsterdam (ha, of all cities - this is a sign). The fact is that by chance, our hotel was deep in the heart of the diamond traders HQ, which translated into us bumping into countless orthodox Jews dressed with their traditional clothes: the men in long black coats, with their long beards and characteristic hats and white socks: the women also in black and with white socks, the only touch of color being (sometimes) a foulard tied around their heads. Most of the time they were strolling around under the sun with many children in their wake. The Jewish community was traditionally the one detaining the diamond trade and this explains the high number of their members in the area. In other words, we found out about the trade history in the city and, possibly more interestingly, about the men behind the History and the business.

Seing so many orthodox Jews made us feel we were in a different country (well, we were, technically speaking): the scenery was very Western like and totally accessible to us, while the traditions and the language spoken around us, we knew nothing about - all signs in shops were written in yiddish and whenever we crossed the traders' path, we could not understand what they were saying. When some children seemed very interested in our wonderfully kind doggy (this sentence is obviously not biased), they asked us questions in English! It was a happy encounter and I was glad contact was made because, after all, we were their guests.

Blessed by two beautiful days and the sun's rejoycing company, we walked and walked (and walked) from the diamond district to the old city center where the famous cathedral dominates de brownstone house scenery and the small cobblestone squares, so typical of this part of northern Europe. The intricate streets at the foot of the cathedral welcomed us with their lively atmosphere and small facades, so narrow that you wonder how the apartment layout must be... Further on (and still with swollen and painful feet), we reached the imposing central station building - another cathedral, as they say - and the beautiful zoo entrance that announced the beginning of yet another exotic world, within the city walls, for a change.

Enjoy the long week-end, celebrate with family and friends and keep your eyes and curiosity opened at all times for everyday daydreaming! 

I am watching...

Un billet sur Edith Piaf ne pouvais s'écrire qu'en français, quoi que, au regard de sa vie, les Etats-Unis étaient aussi de la (triste) partie... Un joli film qui m'a fait découvrir de nouvelles facettes de sa vie dont, au bout du compte, je ne savais que très peu de choses : une enfance entre douleur et douceur féminine (mais pas maternelle), les maladies précoces, les déracinements, l'origine de sa célébrité, l'amour aussi soudain qu'impossible et son entourage. Etonnant entourage qui semble finalement former le seul cercle stable et fiable de la vie de l'artiste, par tous les temps. Etonnant dans le milieu du show-business.

Les images sont souvent sombres, avec des contrastes et des jeux de lumière tranchants, à l'image de la dure vie du piaf à la célèbre voix, tour à tour sous le feu des projecteurs et dans les recoins sombres de la drogue et de la torture qui la déchire en son for intérieur. Un film touchant et dur qui vaut le coup d'être vu, ne serait-ce que par la performance de Marion Cotillard qui nous fait vibrer à chaque moment et nous ouvre un peu plus les portes de cette chanteurse imprévisible, exigeante et talentueuse.

From me to you

HAPPY EASTER 

wherever you are!

Under the magnifying glass

Details can be more revealing that a giraffe in a room; they are the essential and unsuspected clues that spice up any space, any room: the way a light is shed on a given item to enhance the dramatic effect, the fabrics used for a couch or a carpet... Carefully chosen bits and pieces will help define the broader picture in the end and give consistency and unity. Think of the room as a canvas, as a pointilliste painting where the whole picture reveals itself once you step back and see all those tiny creative and inspired dots come together. Then again, a magnifying loop will still help you spot all the details you did not see in the first place.

A few home decoration pictures found around the Net perfectly illustrate the point and I keep going back to them because the details achieve a final goal of completeness and design satisfaction that quite fascinate me:

In this picture, the black framed windows play the part of framed pictures whereas the white framed pictures could be small windows looking onto the world; I like the idea of an inversion of roles. 

Here the wooden covered ceiling could again be the symbol of Alice in Wonderland (what is it with her lately, WHAT is it? Has anyone seen a deck of cards around this post, by the way?), where what was down - hopefully the floor - is now up. Interesting reversal of situation again where it would be tempting to "walk" along this corridor...on your hands.

Introspection is always good (right?), so I bravely went around the house and framed two details that I give you as small eye candy to sweeten this page, your reading and, most importantly, your day:

A bit of kitsch in the house is here to make us smile and put everything into a playful perspective: the kissing characters you will find in any cheesy souvenir shop around the country are sweet, tacky and look down on all visitors to welcome them. You are lucky that the red heart sticker that was stuck by an innocent hand on the entrance door pitifully fell  to the ground some time ago - and disappeared (has anyone thrown it away? I dare not ask...). It was here to remind our guests that this was the house of love. 

I forbid you to laugh. Watch out, if you laugh, I will know where to find you.

Now, more seriously: the paper flowers you see in the background are a present from my parents; they are delicate and romantic. Should I ask for more when I find all fake flowers to be of bad taste and utterly unnatural (well, of course!)? In this country of flowers, the paper flowers are the echo of the live buds - that you can actually see in the foreground. 

I tell you, never underestimate details and keep a magnifying glass in your pocket at all times (don't forget the house keys, they could be useful too).

Reading the signs

There are signs and codes all around us: road signs, maps, color codes, dress codes, shortcuts and symbols. They all trigger a reaction or some form of understanding and compliance. Well, or non-compliace, it really depends on the individuals here. I am just thinking about all those nice bikers pedaling furiously through the intersection, praying or not for their life since the streetlight shows a bright and warning RED light. Oh well...

The conventional signs are more or less shared by all of us, even though their significance can of course vary from one culture to the other.

Lately though, I found myself carried into my own world of signs, you know, ringing bells that mean something only to you, instantly. The moment is just right, it sounds and feels just perfect and carries an unmistakable message.

Sixteen employees fill the space with the sound of their fingers typing furiously on the keyboards; they type fast, because time is money and there are many many emails to reply to or to write from scratch. Efficiency at its paroxysm and no crisis in sight for now, thank God for that. From the open window on our right comes a steady breezy, not quite warm but certainly friendly and vibrant with new promises of outdoor life, laghters from students, a couple of distant songs and trains carrying passengers away. One or two of us stop typing and bend their heads towards the window: we have heard it. We have heard the carillon, its simple keys, its childish and naive melody. 

The ice cream cart is in business town!

Like the call of the wild, we hear the call of colorful ice cream flavors, crunchy cones and first sunny days. One by one, all employees stop typing and listen to the playful music. At that moment, I imagine the flavors that would trickle down my cone, my sticky fingers and grateful palate for what would be a happy, sweet moment in the heart of a stiff working day. 

As if by magic anticipation, on that same morning, I had sprayed a bit of my "summer" perfume on my hair and clothes... The thought of the sugary ice cream and the retro cart combined with the sweet smell of the Miss Dior Chérie I always wear when the nice season starts made me turn into Alice in Wonderland and jump into the romantic and fresh images of the Dior's commercial.

I love when all the signs point towards spring and its joyful rebirth and promises of lazy days.

Quelques nouveautés

Avec le changement d'heure, le thermomètre paisiblement engagé sur la pente ascendante et le soleil prêt à nous sourire de moins en moins timidement, nous abordons une ère nouvelle, celle du lent réveil qui suit, ou tout du moins qui devrait suivre, chaque sortie d'hiver. Une ère qui plus que jamais me fait vibrer et me rend sensible à tous les bruits, les détails, les parfums, les odeurs, les regards. 

Ce blog suivra donc la mode du moment et s'enrichira de quelques nouvelles rubriques qui en réchaufferont les pages :

-Train of thoughts : où il sera question de ces moments de sensibilité extrême qui me poussent à me concentrer intensément sur l'instant et à en assimiler et décrire toutes les facettes. Il y sera aussi question de pensées en vrac, suscitées par une aventure, une découverte, une phrase, un article, une photo... Au choix !

-City lights : suivez le guide improvisé qui à partir d'une photo prise lors de promenades et autres cavalcades citadines ou extra-muros vous fera découvrir de nouveaux endroits ainsi que l'esprit qui les illumine et la lumière des lampions qui les anime. De Haarlem à Amsterdam en passant par Paris et autres villes et villages sous le feu des projecteurs de notre vie.

A saison nouvelle, rubriques nouvelles !