Welcome to a world between dream and reality!
A world where time, as the scene, fade, where the characters come and go, similar and different, so that the stories become stories or legends, ancient or mythical.
A world while paintings, sculptures, drawings, engravings on glass, pyrographed wood, mix of styles and materials, books, poetry, novels, stories, short stories, tales, legends, abstract, figurative, surreal, landscapes, portraits, illustrations, dream, timeless, light, music of life
The nocturnal clouds
gradually withdraw In heaven, where the star is still shining
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
(Of Grieves ... by Words, Along moons ... along destinies)
- 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.
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
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.
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.
as in other times, the old one could believe it can happen .... The
folders are increasing, take on the appearance of suspicious
complexity, trail ....
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 ....
of knocking on the doors of courts with blindness, deafness and other
amnesia, the characters in this novel are now choosing to expose
doubt, they are not alone in living this kind of mishap, and maybe
some will have a feeling of already seen ...
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. "
as pale as flamboyant,
go to infinity from the roads.
music, their songs, their carefree laughter
a long time, they resound from time to time, crystalline.
dream of eternal childhood, of great happiness,
live simple joys and little things.
graceful or more imposing, their great hearts
them to their audiences, their most precious good.
imagine them as vestiges of magical worlds,
they create worlds of illusions.
are rich in their often tragic loves
of their art which they lavish in profusion.
unreal and strong in their light,
are the lunar personages of the Carousel.
they turn their farandole on the stones
on the planks, the squares, under all the skies.
drifting in outer space, an object dances among the stars. Gradually,
it approaches a blue planet, bathed by the rays of the sun.
a good day, this object is placed on the wet sand of a beach. The
waves toss, walking by the tides waves.
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?
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. »
the boy away some of the strange object. Yet despite the fear he
feels he is intrigued and curious about more ...
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!
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.
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.
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
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!
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
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 nextmonth,
next season .... So many things went from bad to worse ! Many
situations deteriorating ! Many people were increasingly desperate !
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
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.
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 ...