.

Poum..Pam...Poum...Pam...
Powerful music, swallow me!
Poum...Pam...Poum...pam....
Like a terrible monster the music goes on
Poum...Pam...Poum....pam...

Sadness, a stain on the day's face, a thorn in life's colors. Sadness so deep that it errases everything tiny merlin's self was. If ever 'it' was something.
It doesn't know what it liked. Doesn't know its friends. Doesn't want to speak any more. Doesn't know why its name's merlin. Doesn't know doesn't know...knows only...
Friends. Oh yes it loves them, but they seem so far away!
Doesn't know who it is. Doesn't dream any more.
Swallow me!
I do not wish to have a body any more. "I". What does it mean?

She's destroying me day after day. Each of her words sinks into my flesh and burns burns! She's my new friend.
I've never felt like this. Never. The words she flings at me so carelessly! Does she know how she breaks me? Her words are like violent kicks. And everyday, everyday, she's here with me. We talk, we laugh and then suddenly...one sentence like an arrow...
Maybe she's right about it all. I know that I am selfish. I know it, damn her! Why does she make me feel it so accutely? What can I do? I exist, I live even if I loathe myself, even if I hate myself. What does she want of me? Does she want to see me roll in the mud ?
She never understands what I mean with the frail words I use. She twists my words and makes them seem ugly. Beside her I feel I am the greatest scum.
I'll never be able to utter the word "I" in front of her again. Not after what she flung at me this morning.
Misunderstanding is terrible.
I should be stronger, but her tone and voice are exactly what break most easily the glass of my window. Stronger. Powerful like the music.
Pam...pouM....Pam....Poum...
Like a current of dark coffee flows the music. Flood, swallow me!

Melts and swirls...melts and swirls...The music is powerful enough to replace a backbone.
All orange and yellow. Clear blue. This is a beautiful day.

Sea creatures

The sea is a wonderful place for life : oh yes all the fish of the ocean, with their pointed face and blazing scales!
But, until a few months ago, I did not know that sea slugs existed. And they are amazing creatures! Look at this one who has a 'tridented' rhinopore! Not only its colors are gorgeous but it does look like a magic carpet.


There are Brittle stars in Antarctica's waters : they can live up to a century!
Isn't it beautiful?

What unknown marvels are hiding inside that living home that is water?

Messing around with Orange lamp and crystal : fire!

The well

° ° °

Listen well!
Once upon a time, three strawberries were dancing on a windowsill.
Listen well!
One single time, a man got hungry. The red drum of his chest beated like the wings of a soaring hawk; his body gleamed gray as the iron of an arrow. His hands - splayed canvas, five-fingered ships - flapped, like the feelers of a famished giant snail; they rose in the air.
Open your ears as the man flared his eyes!
At once he saw It. Saw the Redness, the Brightness embodied. He saw, he did! He saw three strawberries dancing on the windowsill.
Sorrow upon all the straw which isn't as red as those three strawberries dancing on that windowsill!
Face shining with glee, a man opened the window - the red drum of his chest beating like a herd of mad violins. Maddeningly red they were, Brightness embodied, were they, the three berries of the straw redness!
Sorrow! The raving man opened the window. With clever hands he climbed onto the windowsill. So raw with hunger was he, his eyes burned and ash cascaded down his cheeks.
Listen well, the man was breathing hoarsely, so hungry was the horse of his lungs! His pupils, dark and deep, looked like a hole, a deep well. The man had a hole in his trousers and two gaps on his face. Almond-shaped gaps ; his eyes were two deep wells.
Listen well!
The man crouched on the windowsill flapped his hands, let one finger follow one frenzied strawberry.
Follow, follow! He did, the hollowed one! He followed a dancing strawberry on the windowsill. His inside horse kicked in a frenzy, drum drum! He blinked, and wind rushed around him like a bloodfall.
A man fell from a windowsill, crumpled on the ground. Aye, broken doll he was. He fell beside the Old Woman's well.
Listen well! There was ash on his cheeks and his eyes were like stone.
Listen well, three strawberries are chuckling, above on a windowsill!

Listen well, Child! Do not let mad hunger drive you! Do not let the strawberries of desire break your little head! Do not let the Old Woman's well have your young blood!
Listen well!

lone flower - at the bus stop

Life

Life. Such a great and hazy word. The border between the living and the non-living is so wispy. Even so, we know for sure that we humans are alive.
A life. Your life, my life ; our lives.
A human life isn't like an animal's life at all. It is different, but not in the way an ant's life differs from a snake's life. It is fundamentaly different. Because humans have such a nature!

Look at the 'society' of ants. Look at the human society.
The world of ants is the same today as it was three centuries ago.
The world of men, three centuries ago, was really different from nowadays. Basically, it isn't human nature which has changed, but the ideas, the ways of life...
Humanity has a History. Progress, (or regression) => evolution. Development.
Humanity is always on the move. Like a thousand arms waving in the air of time.
I always expect to see question-marks in everybody's eyes. They ask they seek. They need meanings. They need structures, backbones. They wonder, they ponder.
Humanity is an ever-changing dough.

And their lives mirror this. Our lives mirror this.
We fill it, twine it around purposes, seek happiness or contentment ; we try to make something out of it. Damn, we are alive! Isn't this wonder enough? (without even making mention of the fact that the world exists and we with it).
We are alive. And I understand why composers made wonderful odes to the Creator, why men sang in choirs : "thanks you", why....why why...
It isn't always easy. No. Pain, loss, fear, anguish...Yes. Everything isn't pink and wonder but so stupid and absurd. No need to smile crazily because a pigeon or a man exists. No need to rave about life and such. Ah, yes I know.
Still : it is so sad to hear people (the young ones, oh youth of French who're setting cars on fire and shooting policemen) saying : "well, we have nothing to do. We don't have a job. We do nothing." Like those who say for hours : "i'm bored. I'm bored. Nothing to do."
Nothing to do? But you're alive! To do nothing, is like being in the void. Void, death? Makers of nothing.

Once upon a time...