Her glare-rimmed glazy gaze
Clouded by coloured craze
Blackened by a burning blaze
Dreaming of distant days
Read MoreHer glare-rimmed glazy gaze
Clouded by coloured craze
Blackened by a burning blaze
Dreaming of distant days
Read MoreA little before 7 am the earth trembles under our feet. It takes me a few seconds to realise that this is an earthquake, one of those many which have hit the region in the past couple of weeks. We learn that this one is in Bali, and of magnitude 5. It is a sharp and deep tremor, which recedes quickly. T. and A. are still fast asleep.
Read MoreMore travel. We head to Ubud, central Bali.
T. a student in Anthropology (and a former kid) is specifically excited by the prospect of visiting the Monkey forest. Monkeys are indeed everywhere. People too. L. comments on the fact that there are in fact more people than monkeys.
Read MoreWe dive in Panangbay, Bali. It has been over a year since we have not been in the water and we reacquaint ourselves with the heavy (when on earth) gear of the modern diver and the subtle buoyancy which makes us float between layers of ocean, light and free.
Read MoreA and T are bickering at each other. They share the same room is our eco-resort villa. Since the ‘villa’ is just an open roof, we pretty much all share the same room, together with a vast collection of bugs and frogs, which all spring to life as soon as the sun sets.
Read MoreOur next place is a diving resort. Or rather, an eco-resort. We sleep under a white mosquito net, which flaps gently in the wind. The bedroom is open under a thatched roof, the rudimentary bathroom is outdoors, a slim shower in the middle of exuberant vegetation which T. and A. find exciting.
Read MoreVacation are our time for intense reading. We pack our kindles with books or all sorts before we set off. I stock up on contemporary fiction, based on reviews from the New-Yorker, literary prizes short lists and friends’ recommendations. L. does the rest and always revives classics (Russian authors last’s year, Balzac this year) and piles up essays.
Read MoreWe went to our first Indonesian beach today. Waves like mini tsunamis, crashing on a dark sand beach. Nobody in the water. Too dangerous. The beach is full of young couples watching the sunset and having their photo taken on a back drop of huge waves. A few kids running around, far away from the water.
Read MoreWhen you travel, there are always a couple of things you forget. Only to discover that in most instances you can buy them easily and cheaper in the country you are visiting. There are of course a few exceptions.
Read MoreDay 1 is orientation day. The day where you get your 5 senses acquainted with your new environment and evaluate the best strategy to cross the road without getting rolled over by a car or a motorbike (or a scooter in the case of Indonesia).
Read MoreYogyakarta. Java. Indonesia. L (my husband) picked the hotel. Our hotel is a former prison. The roof-top is a hydroponic farm and the inside walls surrounding the central courtyard are covered with herbs and green vegetables. Mint is growing in front of our room, on the 3rd floor.
Read MoreIt all started with a misplaced Oyster card which I thought was in my usual coat pocket. One morning, we woke up to freezing weather. I changed coats and used my contactless debit card. It was a couple of weeks before Christmas.
We went on holiday with my family in France. London, the grey tube station, deep escalators and the nasal voices chanting “mind the gap” were far away.
Read MoreOn ne compte plus les années
Les enfants sont grands
Les saisons se ressemblent, parfums d’été
Du bois à couper, des framboises à cueillir
Les arbres de Noël sont devenus géants
Les petits enfants n’en finissent pas de grandir
Bien sûr, Il y des petites rides au coin des yeux
Un dos un peu voûté, le genou se rebelle
Contre les années, il y a ceux et celles
Qui les ont quittés, photos, lettres à l’encre bleue
Ceux qui passent au loin, en hivers ou en été
On ne compte plus les années
Read MoreC’était un matin vif et glacé. Elisa, emmitouflée, les yeux à demi fermés, marchait en sautillant jusqu’à la gare, en respirant à petites bouffées pour empêcher le froid d’envahir ses poumons. Les rayons du jour qui s’annonçait diluaient lentement la nuit bleutée.
Read MoreLe film d’une vie en épisodes
Sous-titre français, allemands, arabes
Un piano l’accompagne
Musique de Bach ou de Mozart
Le temps a un parfum de Provence
Les livres respirent sur les rayonnages
La chambre aux tapis est son isoloir
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