Author and characters

To imagine, to feel, to seek, to innovate, to testify with lucidity and impertinence, to tell ... and to create, to express our emotions, our reflections, or our vision of the world, in short our universe.

But, if the artist puts into his (her) work what makes his (her) point, many things slip in spite of himself.

However, the viewer sees what he (she) wants to see according to his (her) culture, but also what his (her) own imagination suggests.

So come, let yourself be carried away by your imagination to some elsewhere following the Man, Son of Person from the Forgotten Tales, or the Baladins of the Tales of the Carrousel, or even the Gallic Explorer of the Travel Diary from Elsewhere, unless you prefer to meet Marc, Sylvie, Hervé, Annie and their friends of Twenty years old in May, and After?


2018 Calendar

2018 Calendar illustrated with reproductions of my paintings or drawing on Lulu.com.


To a new day

The nocturnal clouds gradually withdraw
In heaven, where the star is still shining timeless.

While at the horizon, the day stretches
In the rosy clouds in the light unreal
From an orange sun that bathes the waves,
By reflections rippling between blue skies
Deep and pastels from the east. The spray of water
Vaulting over the waves, then come and lost in vows

On the sand where born the cliffs, the rocks
Soon mountains in sharp peaks, ripping
The nocturnal clouds to flight before sunrise
Of this new day, just bloom already shimmering.

(Of Grieves ... by Words, Along moons ... along destinies)


To read

One of my titles interests you, you can find it :

on LULU (paper A4 format and color printing), 
- on AMAZON (digital versions and paper A4 format and color printing).

To all those who dream between dusk and dawn.

Fled or hidden dreams, dreams in bubble,
Dreams in hopes, dreams in blades.

At these tomorrows waited with fear or hope,
At these yesterdays heavy or lightweight in regrets.

At these times stopping time, glows in black
At these hours running to time, too fast in its sole discretion.

At life in cascade rainbow lights
At life in iridescent scum ephemeral.

At life in the steep paths of stone,
At life in moment so sweet or bitter.

In this era of hyper ultra information and communication, where all the feelings and resentments, as all the stories and lives, pours in the literature spread in public places, where everything and nothing give rise to debate and controversy, it seems that all necessary resources are available to the judiciary works best, in the letter if not the spirit, of republican laws and impartially.

Yet, as in other times, the old one could believe it can happen .... The folders are increasing, take on the appearance of suspicious complexity, trail ....
As chance would have it, the documents are lost between stealing faces, the facts are considered by the small end of the telescope, the angle most suitable to the interests of some ....

Tired of knocking on the doors of courts with blindness, deafness and other amnesia, the characters in this novel are now choosing to expose their tribulations.

No doubt, they are not alone in living this kind of mishap, and maybe some will have a feeling of already seen ...

The places mentioned, the characters, known by name as those who hide behind an initial, facts are inspired by a real story, which might suggest that "Something is rotten in our good kingdom (sorry, republic) of France. "

Anonymous, as pale as flamboyant,
They go to infinity from the roads.
Their music, their songs, their carefree laughter
For a long time, they resound from time to time, crystalline.

They dream of eternal childhood, of great happiness,
But live simple joys and little things.
Whether graceful or more imposing, their great hearts
Lead them to their audiences, their most precious good.

They imagine them as vestiges of magical worlds,
While they create worlds of illusions.
They are rich in their often tragic loves
As of their art which they lavish in profusion.

Unlikely, unreal and strong in their light,
They are the lunar personages of the Carousel.
Then, they turn their farandole on the stones

Roads, on the planks, the squares, under all the skies.

Lazily drifting in outer space, an object dances among the stars. Gradually, it approaches a blue planet, bathed by the rays of the sun.

Thus a good day, this object is placed on the wet sand of a beach. The waves toss, walking by the tides waves.

A young boy running on the beach noticed the object. Intrigued, he picks it up. Then he observes. But he really does not see what it can be! To what use is this strange metal roller?

Suddenly, the object becomes luminescent, releasing a ballet images while a Voice, serene and monotonous announces: "This is the diary of my ship charged with exploring the galaxy. »

Surprised, the boy away some of the strange object. Yet despite the fear he feels he is intrigued and curious about more ...

Thus, despite the passage of time, and the evils of the age, "old pensioners" met whenever the opportunity presented itself. Although, now, many were missing they did not forget, they continued their debate about the changes in society, lifestyles, fashion, politics, economics, etc... The Chill of a raft ! They could only see the world, how they bequeathed to their children, was the opposite what they wanted them to be, what they wanted to do at the time of their twenty years!

They had so many aspirations, ideals, projects and beliefs! Many were broken on the walls than their elders, as well as the society in which they lived, and often prospered, had erected around their youth. Some, a little older than they had transformed the impulses of a certain month of May gigantic fair "hippie", while the younger, who had held that the folkloric aspects, relayed by the media, had turned into a "bobo attitude", reducing it to a fad, a knee-jerk reaction.

They sat listening to this world screaming, failing that, in the name of democracy, they prevented them from expressing those who thought differently, not limited to the official version, they intervened by force and arms in the internal affairs of countries on the pretext that their leaders do not respect democracy. Moreover, the more they practiced dictatorship masked single thought, the more they gave lessons in democracy. They also gave lessons on everything.

In this wonderful world of silent on massacres and genocides when they were done by those who served, or promised to do so, the interests of do-gooders. That was to say, those who defined their propriety and good evil, who advocated the multiple and diverse repentance to flatter those they prepared to handle. Omnipresent, omnipotent, they modelled a world dull, greyish beigest which annihilated all cultures.

But they were also the same people who caused the rampant poverty and maintained in order to better manage these populations from which they derived their fortunes. No inhibitions, they would rewrite history in their best interests, presumably to give a semblance of truth or foundation in their speeches sterile. They could argue that in the short term to "make the most money" and succeed "good shots" which would yield big without any effort!

However, by dint of saying that "dancing on a volcano" and that "it would soon blow" ... sooner or later it would be possible to maintain at all costs the lid on the boiling pot. Either that is beyond or it will explode ! It had to steam so it was a basic law of physics ! There they were all agreed. By cons, they had differing opinions as to the circumstances and sequences of these upcoming events.

So, because despite everything, they refused to believe that all humans were lobotomized, or brutalized by the media, pub, well pensance and other unique thoughts, they remained convinced that the smouldering embers under the ashes still pending in again May. Who knows, maybe in the next
 month, next season .... So many things went from bad to worse ! Many situations deteriorating ! Many people were increasingly desperate !

States crumbled in the upheavals in the world of finance. Rule was used to provide said they once, but today it was limited to trying to limit the damage caused by devastating spiral generated incompetence, waste, covetousness most diverse without really trying to get out. To do this, they would have had policies and their entourages and their lackeys, were able to take a step back and reconnect with common sense.

No, they were not proud of this chaotic world they left their children and grandchildren ! That this was far from what they wanted ! That it had been years, if not decades, these young people heard them repeat the same complaints, the same theatrics. They were certainly considered old braggarts. Vestiges of a bygone era where the youth had a burst of energy to try to create a better world.

Yet, they still want to believe that one day, a spring, it would be possible. Maybe then, would be twenty again a great slice of life, inspiring. Maybe then, they take less seriously, they better appreciate the real life. They were safe, the breath of their twenty years now breeze, revive the embers of a certain month of May always simmering under the ashes, and one day a spark that would gush twenty years to younger generations. Somehow, the black flag always float on the pot ...