Month: May 2014

The Antiques Fair at L’Isle sur la Sorgue, Part 3

Ba-da-bling-ba-da-boom. You didn’t think that I would forget you?

Yee of the antiques-loving, “can’t get me enough of that patina” variety?

Well, of course not, shame on you. I wouldn’t any more than I would throw those beautiful volets that are lined up against the oh-so-quaint canal running through L’Isle sur la Sorgue out into the trash! Why, they could be used as a headboard, or doors for a built in closet or as room dividers or wall decorations…but I digress…

Perhaps it is time for a breather after all? Certainly no proper French person would dream of strolling through the Antiques Fair for an entire day without a bit of proper refreshment and besides, better to rest up a bit to prepare. For now…
…We are ready for the big time.
And I do mean big, over-size, huge even! Where on Earth did this lantern come from? Versailles? It is the size of a Citroën 2CV! But ah, how very magnificent it is, non? Can’t you imagine it, lying just like it is, on it’s side in the middle of a castle designed by Axel Vervoordt? I can. Perhaps we should call him.
I think that he would like the simplicity of the 18th century wrought iron chandelier as well. I did. And the statue actually is very fine although my photos don’t begin to do it justice. The seller was going for mood lighting. It made for a charming scene, I have to admit.
Even if at times, the ambiance was a tad…overwhelming.
No better to focus in, such as on the inscription that Remi deciphered on this framed branch of black coral…signed by an Italian professor in the 1800’s.
Still attracted by largesse? All right, I admit it, over-size lanterns seem to be something of a trend…as is – paradoxically – mid-century modern, although those pieces all looked rather scruffy to me…

…But of course, “scruffy” is relative. As this right here my friends was my favorite piece of the day. Although would I like it once it was renovated? Alas, I would not.
Goodness, all of that gold-leaf can be oppressive, can’t it? Let’s get some fresh air…
…and say our adieus outside now that the bustle is fading and the sellers are starting to pack up their wares.

Ah, what is that you say? Au revoir and not adieu? How right you are, for we both know that you will want to return to the semi-annual Antiques Fair at L’sle sur la Sorgue, as well I. The next is for August 14th – 17th. See you there…
http://www.foire-islesurlasorgue.com/
PS. I will be cutting down my posting schedule to (most likely) twice a week while I am in the States. Thank you for your understanding and for all of your well-wishes.

One door

There is one door to open, another to walk through and finally the one that closes behind.
I am becoming increasingly aware of Arles taking form around me as my time here is most likely drawing to an end.
The details of my daily life, the ones that I have stopped seeing, are sprouting into bas-relief as I reach out towards the handle on the door ahead…
…wondering where it will take me. How far and fast I will go.
Off I go to America, to visit my wonderful family there and to have a change of air. While I have prepared many posts photographically, they are yet to be written, let alone posted, so if for any reason there is silence on these air waves on the days to come, not to worry but please stay tuned…

With my Best from Arles,
Heather

Walking blind

Saturday we visited our old picnic spot. I have seen it all of the seasons now – well, all of our seasons in the South of France. After eating and drinking plus spilling a bit of wine, we slept. Remi in the sun, me in the shade and the dogs alternating back and forth between the two. When I woke up, they were restless and so we did the stroll around the perimeter of the vines, the one that I always do, slowly, consciously, as if I were the owner of the land. As if I belonged there.
The sun was piercingly bright, reverberating off the edges of the blue, blue sky. So much so that I couldn’t really see what I was doing in taking my photos, those photos, some souvenirs. But I kept clicking away, nonetheless. Pointing at shadows, zooming aimlessly towards forms and definitions. I was walking blind.
This morning, I feel the same for France. In yesterday’s elections for the European Union, the Front National party won the day with 25% of the vote and claiming victory in 71 out of France’s 101 départements. By doing so, they will now have the greatest number of seats out of the political parties in representing the country for the EU Parliament – which in itself is ironic as the FN wants out of the Union entirely. Today there has been much discussion with some proclaiming that the real tragedy is that 57% of the population did not vote which means that roughly just over 10% of the French chose the FN. Over half did not vote and this is the result. I am reeling, exhausted with disappointment and fear. How else is a foreigner living in this country supposed to feel?
Do I understand that the French economy is not really recovering and that people are frustrated to extremes by a perceived lack of options? I do. But “to extremes”? Just as with that walk I keep taking, I will keep repeating, “Have we learned nothing from History?” France lived through the Second World War. There are those in these streets that knew what it was for Arles to have been occupied by the Nazis. In the United States it is Memorial Day. We are called upon to give respect for those that have fought, who have served and those who lost their lives in the process. We have to remember. To understand what was and what can be.
I want to hear the details of proposed policies beyond ideologies from the Front National party. For this election is solid proof that they are indeed advancing even if stumbling forward while shouting at the sun.

For those of you that read French, you can see an outline of the FN’s suggested policies: here.

Thank you for being here, thank you for reading…

To see more from my Contrasts in Provence series, you can do so here and here.

The Antiques Fair at L’Isle sur la Sorgue, Part two

Ah, you are back. What’s that? I think that you meant to say, “May I please see some more photos from the antiques fair at L’Isle sur la Sorgue?”

Très bien, since you asked so nicely, why don’t you pull up a Tolix and we’ll have a look.

You would like something more comfortable? Oh goodness, aren’t we spoiled but yes, by all means just hunt over there…maybe one of those Louis XVI replicas are cushy enough for you…Of course they are replicas. Otherwise you can trust me, they would hardly be scattered all willy-nilly on the grass like that.

Ah, you have noticed there is more umph have you? 

Well, that is because we have crossed over the stream and onto the main grounds of the fair…
…those reserved for outside vendors with a little something more…special…to share.

But you liked all of the bric-a-brac stands? 

Oh, fine then. Go, go, by all means go and good luck with whatever you may find there.
Because, you see, for those in the know, the gardens are where the biggie items can be found…
…those that command presence. 
Hmm? Oh yes, the industrial look is still hanging in there, amazingly…

…although the tendency seems to be towards pieces which are practically artworks in themselves such as this siphon…Yes, it does look like something one could find in a temple. A temple to wine! 

How I do crack myself up. Or quack myself up! Ha-ha!

This table was tempting, awfully tempting. Only 450 Euros too. Quite the bargain.

Are you still thinking about wine now that I brought it up? 

All right then, sit down for a minute…

…I’ll clean up two of these and go find us something cool.
Dear me. I was stopped in my tracks by this! Demi-tour s’il te plait! Seven years of bad juju and all that. Looks like something or someone had a bit of a rough trip. Buh-dum-dum.

Ah, you found my chou-chou. That little repose-pieds probably should have come home with me after all, despite its dire need for an update, it was my favorite piece of the whole day…the candelabra? Don’t you remember that I already have a pair? Oh, you do…
Pardon? You think that I am going to give them to you? Ma chére, there is about as much chance of that as my becoming mayor of Arles!

Now don’t dawdle…come along…there is still much, much more to see.

The Antiques Fair at L’Isle sur la Sorgue

Why, hello there. Would you like to go shopping with me? It’s a beautiful day out, why not? What? Oh, for antiques of course. Is there anything better? 

For you see, while we were up at the world’s most peaceful mazet recently, the twice yearly Foire Internationale Art et Antiquités was being presented at a mere ten minutes drive away in the always beautiful L’Isle sur la Sorgue.

So what say you? Shall we swan along together? A tiny bit of time travel will be required but just wiggle your nose Bewitched-like and we’re off…This week’s posts will be dedicated to a little virtual wish-listing. And while I am sure that Remi will sigh in exasperation at my including too many photos (as usual), I wanted to make sure that there was something for everyone…
Of course, all of the usual suspects were present, such as charming old pétanque balls…

…eye-blinding bling…

…la vannerie that would look very smart slung over a crooked elbow at the farmer’s market back home…
…plus – the perpetual favorite – pots à conserve whose prices finally seem to be going back down…

…as well as grain sacks waiting to be plumped into expensive scratchy pillows or upholstery in upscale boutiques around the world.

But there were a lot of unusual items as well. 
I was especially fascinated by these oriental molds for printing wall paper. Wouldn’t they look lovely mounted in a group in a hallway or in a bath? 
Similarly, Remi and I were both drawn to this set of silver molds until we saw that A) it was 287 Euros and B) it was made of ivory. Ahhh, non et non.

For the intrepid, there were many tables crammed with interesting and inexpensive bric-a-brac to trawl through. Alas, patience is not exactly my middle name…
No, I was drawn by the bigger gestures and especially the stands that offered an intact aesthetic, such as with this seller’s juxtaposition of French provincial with Asian antiques. Now we are talking.

These six sculpted Chinese flowers might have gone home with me in better days (ahem) and I loved how beautifully they complimented the gorgeous faded colorway of the dresser.

Of course, there were plenty of smaller pieces that caught my eye.
Who can ever have enough crackly old suitcases to stack at the end of the bed…

…or passmenterie to pull back those extra long linen drapes?

Pieces with authentic or even exaggerated patina were still in abundance, even while the “whitewash everything/Annie Sloan chalk paint” look is fading into the past.

Simple seems to be the order of the day, which is just fine by me…

…as well as using basic items or materials creatively, such as these stacked (albeit wobbly) vegetable crates as end tables…
…or sections of old Indonesian boats to form a perfect outdoor sofa (although I will pass on the hot pink plastic Rhino head, thank you very much).

Not all of the faire’s 250 vendors (in addition to the permanent shops) are in the old goods business. 
I knew that I had seen the yellow mid-century style console before and sure enough, everything at this stand was the work of two young women from Arles. Eve and Soriana, created their company En goguette (which means “a little bit drunk”) in 2009 and since then have been creating their designs out of cardboard. The results are precisely well thought out, fun and environmentally friendly. 
Which is just wonderful. For while it is always a delight to puff up the dust of the past, how important it can be to keep one eye squinting directly towards the future…
Have a wonderful week everyone! More soon…
And thank you kindly for all of your interest concerning Vickie Lester’s “It’s in His Kiss”…it tickled me pink.

“It’s In His Kiss” by Vickie Lester

Folks, prepare for me to gush.

While it may not show much in my current daily life, I have a deep and long-standing admiration for glamour, most especially of the Old Hollywood kind. No, not the tinsel and flash but the Goods, the kind that causes a frisson or two. Now, I have a charming friend who feels the way that I do and as we are talking about writers and writing this week, it is the perfect moment to tell you about Vickie Lester’s (yes, that would be a nom de plume) fantastic new novel, “It’s In His Kiss.” 

You might remember my dedicating a post to Vickie this past February as a cheer up effort for her birthday, one that fell just as her team of publishers dissolved while her novel was on the brink of publication. Can you imagine? It is amazing to think that in so short a time, she bravely took up the fallen reins and rode into the world of self-publishing with her friends and the many fans of her blog, Beguiling Hollywood, cheering her on to the finish. Et voila, she did it and ahead of schedule to boot. It’s a good thing too as this is one fantastic ride of a read. I am snobby enough when it comes to using certain adjectives where literature is concerned but honestly? “Fun” is the appropriate word here. Vickie told me, “I loved writing it and I loved editing it.” It shows.

Here is what I had written previously: “Each chapter that I have read had my heart racing, leaving me hungry for the next. For you see, Ms. Lester is not only a brilliant writer but the real deal who writes about Hollywood, it’s wonders and foibles, from the deep insider point of view. And some of the scandalous tidbits? Well, they very well might be a slightly disguised truth, which we all know is stranger than fiction.” 

My oh my, someone was being prescient that day. I had no idea what I was in for when the novel arrived and I could finally read all of it. I am warning you now (and I see by a review at Amazon that I am not the only one), as cliché as it sounds you. will. not. be. able. to. put. it. down. Until you are neatly dropped down on the other side, breathless and blinking. 

I understand more clearly “Ms. Lester’s” use of a fake name after having tasted each morsel of this dark but deeply romantic mystery, as some of the details are frankly too fantastic not to be true. And those of us who read her blog understand complicitly that this is a woman who knows of what she speaks from the source. Not to mention her skewering a certain “Clientology”? Scandalous. While I am no gossip in life, a little fictional swimming in that steamy pond never hurt anyone and half of the fun in reading the novel lies in discerning the “who is who” of the character’s real life counterparts. And the other half? In trying – and failing – to see where the story is going to take you next. 



Hollywood. Glamour. Power. Lies. Destruction. Rebirth. It’s all in here…it’s all “In His Kiss.” 



To Buy it on Amazon US: please click here.
Pour mes amis dans la belle France: cliquez ici.
To read more about the book: please click here.
Plus, there are plenty of great excerpts on her blog: here (just click on the photos).

Isn’t it amazing when our friends do great things? 
Makes me happy and very proud.
Have a great weekend everyone and thank you for all of your kind responses on my previous post too…

Shifting perspective – Why I write

I am frowning at the back of my camera. Remi, who has already passed ahead on the trail, stops, sees my expression and asks, “What is it?” I blow out my lips in frustration, horse-like. “Well…it’s just that…sometimes I just can’t get it. I can’t capture what I see.” “Show me.” I do. Three pinecones lolling from skinny branches. “Do you want the background to be blurry?” That’s it. “It doesn’t look like anything if everything is in focus,” I whine. “I want them to float.” “Well, then you need to work on your depth of field,” he responds. I practically slap my forehead with the my palm. I always forget. Photographing in manual is interesting because you get to choose. I can shift the focus. 

I am often asked about the title of this blog, usually half-jokingly, half-hoping, “You aren’t really lost, right?” I get a lot of comments about being “found” too. But the truth is, when I launched into this particular form of writing coming up on four years ago, I really needed to find my way. I was coming off the most difficult year of my life – my Dad had died, we had to sell our beloved home and gallery due to the financial crisis – one that had crumbled the French press and left me without work as a travel writer. I was truly floundering at sea and floating in pain and worry, without direction.
I give all credit where credit is due. Remi, my wonderful companion, the man who knows what I am feeling from the next room even when I haven’t said a word, floated out the suggestion that I start a blog. I will admit it again as I have before that I scoffed outright. At the time, I felt that bloggers were simply folks who couldn’t cut their teeth in the professional world of the press where I had come from – similar to the ridiculous expression, one that makes my blood boil now, “Those who can’t do teach.” But he insisted, gently. And one day, a good a day as any, I heard him and realized that I could type with my inactive hands and by doing so, I could change things for myself by simply being creative.

Writing has it’s tides and the irony isn’t lost on me that I was asked to participate in a blog tour by my friend, the truly lovely Jeanne Henriques at Collage of Life during a time when the waves are far from the shore. “Rien dans ce monde n’arrive par hasard.” So I have been taking steps back, quiet ones, all the better to get a better picture of how the machine works. I have already had the distinction of being interviewed by another friend, Judith Ross, about my process as a blogger for an article Talking Writing Magazine. What is interesting to me is to see how that too has shape-shifted as of late and even better, to pass on that baton to three incredible women.

So on to the blog tours standard questions:

What am I working on?

Whew, that is a knee-slapper. What am I not working on? I realize that this question is meant to be answered in terms of “projects” – a word that makes me press my mouth together in a flat line of consternation – but why not answer honestly: “on rebuilding my self-confidence” “on sharpening my eye” “on trusting”…true, I would eventually like to build a book out of Lost in Arles but it is a slow process. I have nothing but great admiration for those who have already done so. This chapter of my life in Arles is nearing to a close, so I think that the right moment to culminate my random pieces into something whole might be at hand. I love the idea of having something solid to hold in my hands, especially as I have been struggling with the ephemeral nature of the internet as of late. 

How does my writing/work differ from others in its genre?


If you have read this far, you have probably already gotten a taste that I don’t sugar-coat what I share. Yes, this is Provence and I am so proud to be able to celebrate its beauty but my life is not perfect, no one’s is. I would rather be honest about that or not write at all.
I am also a stickler for only creating my own content, visually and verbally. There aren’t that many of us out there that do that these days. Lately, I have gone back to something that I used to enjoy a lot – which is weaving the texts and images together so that it becomes – well, hopefully – a joyful interplay.

Why do I write what I do?

I was taking tea with Vicki Archer – one of the smartest women that I have the privilege to know – and she told me, as she had a year previously, “You really need to know why you are doing this.” “I do it for me,” I responded immediately, also for the second time. Remi has been instrumental in reminding me to stay true to my own interests from the beginning. “Don’t try and please others,” he insists. It took about a year for that to sink in without my reacting defensively and now it is my Modus Operandi. The moment when I sit down to write is a glorious one for me, one of the moments that I feel the most “me” in my life and I never take that freedom for granted.
How does my writing process work?

I remember one of the questions that surprised me in Judith’s interview was, “Do you ever feel that your photographs are a crutch?” I wasn’t quite sure what to think of that at the time but currently, my photography – or more importantly, the act of seeing so as to take them – usually leads the way. I mentioned earlier that I have been at a loss for words as of late but I am never at a loss for photos. They sit in files on my desktop, grouped into subjects. Often when I am working on them, an idea might spark of how I could use them, preferably not literally but sometimes that is just what needs to happen. I will prepare them the day before I sit down to write and then will clear my head while taking the dogs on their morning walk. I write really, really quickly once I have my launching off point. As Jeanne touched upon while introducing me, music is madly important to me. Today, I have been listening to London Grammar at high volume – the headphones in my ears to focus the sound and to give Remi a visual cue that I am “not here.” Usually I will listen to one song constantly on repeat – lately it has been “Wasting My Young Years” by the same group. I edit, reread what I have until I am just on the verge of getting sick of it, then hit “publish” before I do so. But all of this is a fast process, always on the same day. I know that each blogger has their own workings and the “why” of mine serves me as fuel.

And now, the good stuff. 
The writers that came to my mind have all been mentioned here in one form or another. And while their stories, efforts and lives are all quite different, they are linked – for me – with one word: authenticity. Suze is one of my soul sisters, I feel linked to her even though we have never met. She constantly opens the doors in my heart and does so with such ease and grace. Loree is the shy poet who doesn’t yet consider herself a writer and yet once you grasp on to her evocative prose, you might beg to differ. And then there is Nancy-Kate, who regularly makes me bark out loud with gales of laughter that are spot-on and yet never mean-spirited. I know from when I was acting that, “Dying is easy, comedy is hard.” There is an effortlessness in all of these women’s writing that is a joy to take in and that can most certainly be said about my host, Jeanne. You can’t help but want to be her friend, to want to spend time in her world. She is deeply loved in the blogging community and her generosity of spirit, charm and wit are only a few of the reasons why.
Suze is sitting in front of a winking cursor wondering what the heck to write about herself. She has experience as a copy editor, columnist, educator, wife and mother and finds writing about herself in third person kinda fun. She’s listening to Soft Cell’s ‘Tainted Love’ on Sirius and her plus-size tortoiseshell cat just made a strangely self-satisfied sound as she yawned. Suze recently accepted an offer of representation from John Cusick of Greenhouse Literary Agency for her humorous contemporary Middle Grade novel, KYLE CONSTANTINI FINDS A WAY, and fully expects soul-numbingly wonderful things ahead.
http://subliminalcoffee.blogspot.fr/

Lorna
Dykstra (or Loree as she is known to her circle of friends) is a 
pharmacist by profession. By day she works in a multi-national pharmaceutical
company and by night you will find her at her desk doing what she loves best –
writing. Home is the island of Malta, right in the middle of the
Mediterranean sea, where she lives with her American husband and
eight-going-on-eighteen year old son. She describes herself as a wife, a mother, a daughter, a dreamer, a hopeless
romantic, an endless contradiction. Lorna loves the NW wind, grey skies and
rough seas, golden sunsets and ancient, winding streets.  She also
loves chocolate: the dark and bitter kind. Her other passions are reading, photography
and baking. A bit of a gypsy at heart, she is always on the look-out for the
next adventure that will take her beyond the shores of the small island on
which she lives. One of her dreams is to visit all the capital cities of Europe
and the fifty American States. Lorna writes more or less weekly on her
blog Stories & Scribbles and occasionally on her second blog Snapshots of
an Island.


Nancy Kate Ryder is a Tennessee girl who managed to find her way to Grenoble via New Zealand and Australia.  Now she is happily (most of the time) installed in France with her French husband and writing about all of her various and sundry cultural mishaps on her blog Bread is Pain.  She is also in the midst of editing her first novel, a comic romance, which is a task she looks upon with both loathing and affection.  In addition, she has a passion for eating cooking and occasionally throws a new recipe up on a food blog: Bread is Pain Food…apparently she has been unable to come up with more than one blog title.  She loves long walks on the beach, drinks at sunset, and self-deprecating humor. 
http://breadispain.me/
http://breadispainfood.com/

And now for my host. Jeanne, I am truly honored that you asked me to participate in this tour. It is a great, great compliment coming from such an amazing woman as yourself.

Jeanne
Henriques is wife to a nomadic husband,
mother to four independent children, one well-travelled dog and is the writer
behind the blogs, Collage of Life and Expat Diary Viet Nam. Over
the past 26 years, her family has packed up and moved between America,
Australia, New Zealand, UK and Vietnam. She has some ideas of when and where
the Expat Express will go next but can never be certain. Jeanne recently
added “empty nester” to her repertoire with her four children now living
between America and Australia. She looks to the years ahead as an opportunity
to explore new horizons. She hangs her hat and camera part of the year at Chateau Mango in
Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam and the other half at Tahilla Farm in
the foothills of the Monadnock mountain range in New Hampshire. She writes to
tell the tale. You can follow her adventures on her blogs, Collage of Life, and Expat Diary Viet Nam. Jeanne
can also be found chatting on Twitter, Instagram and Facebook.

And there we have it! I will now pass the baton on to the three lovely ladies and they will nominate three writers in kind (Suze the rebel has more that she is going to ask!) while responding to the blog hop questionnaire. Thank you for reading, thank you for being here and I hope you enjoy discovering these wonderful worlds of words…
With my Very Best from Arles,
Heather

Rack and ruin, part two

While this is not an “almost” it is a house that I have thought of since having seen it during one of our trips to the safari tent. How she is begging to be loved and how rightfully she deserves such attentions.

I love the proportions, so similar to those lopsided crayon drawings of what a house could be from our youth.

And yet there are elegant touches, such as this wrought iron railing…
…and a trellis hanging abundant with vines despite relying solely on self-care for who knows how long.

At the base of the house, a fountain of cool spring water pours continuously…
…an echo of the brook that hiccups unabashedly…

…while bringing a jewel-toned garden to life.
And while there are many homes in this tiny village that stand waiting…
…and I am reassured by the treatment of a Front National poster…

…that perhaps a foreigner like myself would be welcome…

…to find my way amidst these winding back roads to something like home…
…for now I will simply sit and dream. 
In my mind, I will strip the walls of the scarred stucco and replace it with a slick of lime-wash instead. I can sand the wood, condition it and paint it something simple, pure white perhaps, for this would be a happy house. And finally I would open up the windows, sweep the floors and let in the mountain air to kiss it clean.
Do you see what I see?

PS. I am finally (!) switching to Mail Chimp for delivery of email subscriptions starting with this post. I hope that you will bear with me while I iron out any technical glitches. Once this is taken care of, I can focus on more important things…like writing and photography! Thanks for your understanding…

Sticks and stones

While I was walking through the forest above L’Isle sur la Sorgue, I couldn’t stop seeing lines. There were forms in the trees and the underbrush and they seemed to be pointing me in several directions all at once. I was thinking about friendship.

I have written before that it can be lonely at times living overseas – “can” being the operative word here  and “challenging” being a far more satisfying word then maudlin “lonely.” But there are moments,  increasingly with age, where I just want to be understood. A line drawn with a strong hand that doesn’t need to be interpreted.

Now don’t get me wrong. I knew what, or who, to be more precise, I was signing up for when I came on board for this adventure and it has been a marvelous one. Plus, I am giddy to announce that I will be heading back to the States at the end of the month for a long-overdue visit. My Mom has promised me that I will be “spoiled” and by that she is not referring to goods, although there will be that too. She understands.

Our virtual world can be so incredibly giving, glowing in generosity. So many voices that reach out tendril like towards mine and mine back to them. Sinewy yet delicate. I am quite honored to have been chosen by my friend Jeanne at Collage of Life to participate in a writerly blog tour for example, more of that next Monday. The world is our oyster and a love for similar beauties are often the uniting cord.

But I have learned that there are no commitments in virtual friendships either. People disappear, connections end. At times, even the most hardy of us need a mirror to reflect back our image but if that mirror is virtual, what do we do?

 It must be then that the lines that I cross are one’s that I draw in the dirt myself, my own boundaries that move about with the fluidity of the light darting through the trees. Just as the sticks and stones of our daily life are ours to drop and snap in two. Especially those that we use against ourselves.

I feel imminently grateful to be a part of a world-wide community. I look in amazement at the Visitor Tracker on the sidebar and see “South Africa” “Tokyo” and “Ohio” flip up one after the next. But as I followed those lines in the forest…and kept coming up against the same patterns…

returning to the exact same forms unconsciously…
I followed the path back to me. 
It may seem so obvious but how often I forget the importance of being strong in a community of one.

Sous le Mount Ventoux


The air is hot and is shaking my hand, pumping it like a madman. And yet I hesitate before taking shelter, sweetened by the prospect of a wide-open view.

A little shade gives respite despite the whistling that sings in my ears…

…with the clarity of the church bell ringing from Crillon-le-Brave.
I sit in the dust under an unripe fig tree, knowing that the wasps have yet to mate in their magic…
…and let my vision be torn between the insisting cypresses pointing heavenwards…
…and the light shorn details pulling down…
…to settle in this in-between where the olive trees whip in the winds that circle hawk-like under the Mount Ventoux. It strips me back to the bone – this beauty, this softened wilderness, kind.