Ticklish time.
I am back again to wander in the village of our Secret Provence. Its streets are so dense with houses of all sizes pressed up cheek to cheek and each one with a story to tell. I want to push my palm to read their fortunes, most certainly that of a certain straggling Art Deco creature at the edge of the fortified walls holding back as if she were abandoned at a Bastille Day bal.
This is not an architectural style that is common at all in this part of Provence, so how adventuresome, how hopeful, someone must have been to add the ironwork curlicues and fanned rock-pocked glass suspended above the front door, just large enough for a loved one to dart out, giving a final peck goodbye under the rain.
Looking deeper, the haphazardly painted moss falls away and there it is, that 18th century stone. Solid, despite a proximity to a Rhone River that pulls so strongly here that it cuts across the maps. I want to pick a piece of that cement off and put it in my pocket.
Or if I could, I would take in hand this lonely girl to help her remember who she is.
In the 16th century, Henry Bull translated Luther’s commentary on the fifteen psalms. Amidst them arrived this: “Whiles all things seeme to fall wracke and ruine”…Hence the phrase. But do they? Do they?
Ces traces me marque et me semble vivant.
Heather…I am not sure what it is, why I get so excited over shots like this. They always make me want to stand up close and take a closer look…once I do, 'cool' usually escapes my mouth which would have any family member rolling their eyes. I am reminded constantly that people do not say 'cool' anymore..except me. So..yes, a little chisel to take a sample of that gorgeous cement…I would be happy to be your partner in crime. xx
How wonderful. I love discovering slumbering houses and wondering what they look like inside, who lived there and what went on inside the different rooms.
The wrinkles and smudges of a face growing in wisdom.
I appreciate the stories that those faces bring. We become part of them. Your photos capture the memories.
nothing is falling to ruin if someone like you is watching and photographing and sharing with-the-world.
*wavingfromLA*
tg xx
It was well worth the visit! Glad you enjoyed yours here too, Barb. 😉
That is a gorgeous compliment, Debra so thank YOU! 🙂
Push your palm to read their fortune…..houses pressed up cheek to cheek – animating the inanimate – or are they? I feel quite sure homes and buildings have a history, stories to tell. Love this, Heather.
And so happy to have had you stop by TENM. 🙂
Heather for a long time now you've really helped me to see again and appreciate the fallen beauty around me…thank you!
XXX
Debra~
Yes, this is right up your alley, Virginia–especially as Art Deco is really something you see more up North. I wonder too…
I don't know, Mr. Laoch. All of the shutters were closed up tight. She is a sleeping beauty, I would imagine.
And each house was so unique, Wyn. It made me wonder after all of them!
Thank you Laura–and oh how I would love to fix her up–these abandoned homes break my heart!
The glass is in no shape to move, Judi and the "moss" seems part and parcel with the structure now too…
Hooray! Much appreciated, wonderful lady. You aren't the only one having difficulty leaving comments it would seem…
The beauty of the wracke and ruine for me…just gorgeous. How interesting though…i wonder at the story of the old girl…who owned her? who dreamed art deco? I so adore that buildings hide so many interesting histories…
What is the interior like?
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Talk about pushing your palm Heather – these are just magic – the old saying 'if walls could talk' makes one want to stand and ponder!! Thanks – wonderful!!
Wouldn't it be a great venture to restore and help this house remember who she is?
Beautiful phrase and reference Heather, so appropriate!
Beautiful! I want that iron work and glass canope! AND, I want a piece of that 'cement moss' for my pocket, too.
there's something (fleeting) in the air. beautiful!
(beautycalypse, not giving up the commenting fight ;))