English
 

Murmure

Friday 22 February 2008

It's a ballpoint pen drawing that I doodled on my little black notebook in the tramway.

080222 Le murmure Dessin au stylo bille

It says ( translated)
The day I met you
You were speaking in silence
I was holding a murmur at the tip of my fingers
I was looking at no one
And had been singing softly for a long time the rhythm of seasons

A little old maybe, dreamer for sure

Wednesday 20 February 2008
The office located the other side of the city gives me frequent opportunities to miss the last tram, forcing me to walk back home. It takes about one hour when walking fast, but that's far from being a hassle, especially since I adore night strolls throughout the city; they always end up opening my mind to reverie and fill it up with some refreshing vivacity.
080219 Croquis vieux peintre


Once home I sat and drew this man.
I know he looks bizarre; his face features are disproportional, and his look asymmetric. One eye looks up, the other looks on the left. Is that the expression of this persistent dichotomy of mine ?
I didn't think much about what I was doing actually, and maybe that's the reason why he looks so me-like _ or at least the state of mind I was in.

The pencils I used didn't give me much chance to correct the mistakes.

Anyway.
Julie came home in the middle of it, offered me a rum and stayed a little while by my side. She was quite in advance of the drinks to say the truth; and I wasn't talking much.

It's silly how much I missed painting.


Dance me to your beauty

Monday 18 February 2008
Some things are so precious
but you ignore that
until you realize they were stolen from you.
I'll have my identity back.
And the heart that doesn't ache no more
But it's calling
Oh it's calling
And I muted it all over and over.
Rage and revenge boiling
But I think wait. Wait still a little bit
I'll have my identity back.
Because I painted this morning
saying farewell to all duty
With that strength carved on the forehead
Brushes in my hand
Long time no see
Scary how they melt with my fingers instantly
And suddenly a single breath feels like falling from hundredth floor
The devilish touch pierces the shields and the boiling urges. To hold on or to collapse.
How do I still contain?



And this song by L.Cohen
Just heard a blues version by Madeleine Peyroux
So soothing in morning hesitations; it lets you understand how much all can be wrong.



Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in
Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love

Oh let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone
Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon
Show me slowly what I only know the limits of
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love
me to the wedding now, dance me on and on
Dance me very tenderly and dance me very long
We're both of us beneath our love, we're both of us above
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love

Dance me to the children who are asking to be born
Dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn
Raise a tent of shelter now, though every thread is torn
Dance me to the end of love

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic till I'm gathered safely in
Touch me with your naked hand or touch me with your glove
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love

<>
Feb. 08
MTWTFSS
28293031123
45678910
11121314151617
18192021222324
252627282912
3456789
18/2/2008 Dance me to your beauty
20/2/2008 A little old maybe, dreamer for sure
22/2/2008 Murmure