Le 28 janv. 16 à 07:24, ChrisB a écrit :
That poem is rather lovely, Moose.
Yup!
That link is useful, Jez, although the images didn’t load for me.
In the manner of ...
http://gallery.leica-users.org/v/Phileica/Playground/2016-Best+Wishes-Amard-.jpg.html
and the place
http://gallery.leica-users.org/v/Phileica/Philichromes/2014-Phililychrome-Giverny-6359.jpg.html
and next two
I’ve visited his house at Giverny and it is a beautiful place; we
stayed not far away, on the river at Les Andelys, a place on the
apex of a meander of the Seine. It was a thoroughly peaceful and
restful place to be.
Indeed! Even if a bit somewhat to a certain extent crowded ;-)
http://gallery.leica-users.org/d/396237-2/WW-Selfie-Double+Take-6338.jpg
Amities
Philippe
Chris
(I do hate the term “back story”, though. “Background” was useful
enough and less ugly.)
On 27 Jan 16, at 22:13, Jez Cunningham <jez@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx> wrote:
The back story is equally fascinating...
http://psych.ucalgary.ca/PACE/VA-Lab/AVDE-Website/Monet.html
On 27/01/2016, Moose <olymoose@xxxxxxxxx> wrote:
Monet Refuses the Operation
Doctor, you say that there are no halos
around the streetlights in Paris
and what I see is an aberration
caused by old age, an affliction.
I tell you it has taken me all my life
to arrive at the vision of gas lamps as angels,
to soften and blur and finally banish
the edges you regret I don't see,
to learn that the line I called the horizon
does not exist and sky and water,
so long apart, are the same state of being.
Fifty-four years before I could see
Rouen cathedral is built
of parallel shafts of sun,
and now you want to restore
my youthful errors: fixed
notions of top and bottom,
the illusion of three-dimensional space,
wisteria separate
from the bridge it covers.
What can I say to convince you
the Houses of Parliament dissolve
night after night to become
the fluid dream of the Thames?
I will not return to a universe
of objects that don't know each other,
as if islands were not the lost children
of one great continent. The world
is flux, and light becomes what it touches,
becomes water, lilies on water,
above and below water,
becomes lilac and mauve and yellow
and white and cerulean lamps,
small fists passing sunlight
so quickly to one another
that it would take long, streaming hair
inside my brush to catch it.
To paint the speed of light!
Our weighted shapes, these verticals,
burn to mix with air
and changes our bones, skin, clothes
to gases. Doctor,
if only you could see
how heaven pulls earth into its arms
and how infinitely the heart expands
to claim this world, blue vapor without end.
- Lisel Mueller
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One sees clearly only with the heart. What is essential is invisible
to the eye. Antoine de Saint Exupéry in Le Petit Prince.
NO ARCHIVE
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