Warehouses & Stuff: Rotterdam #2

With a stopover in Antwerpen, we are headed to Rotterdam from Brussels. We missed the first train because someone went to bed too late—drank coffee later that he should have and couldn’t sleep. But that’s okay, I love him anyway. It’s now 11am. We’re bringing along a little money (i.e., a bothersome jumble of coins…

I wish…

Sometimes, I wish I lived in the countryside–I don’t really care where exactly, just a little nook among the flowers, under a wide open sky, would do me right…

i avhe a blempro

I have a problem. I really like taking pictures–attempting to capture a minuscule portion of the beauty in the world (…there’s just so damn much of it)–and then, I want to share this beauty with the universe. Thus, herein lies the problem: I don’t know if anyone really cares about the pictures I take. You see, I’d…

My love, my tree, my Bois de Vincennes

It has been 7 months since the day I officially left Paris — with the prospect of greener pastures in Belgium. But, today, as on many other days since being in Brussels, I feel a void–a void, which fills me with longing. Sometimes, when the sun is shining (as it actually does on occasion in…

(my) Fav*s

Hello. I found these in my (online) stack of pics and didn’t know where to put them, but, I figured, they don’t deserve to be hidden, piled up in the dark and musty corner of some hard disk… so, here they are… some of my fav’s–>

Tribute to Pickles_chasseur de mouches

As we head to the summit of the mountain deep in the province of Auvergne, Pickles, chaser of flies (grasshoppers, butterflies, etc.), remains at ease, hot and just about to sneeze. Pickles is happy in the tall grass, resting from the trek so far, among wild flowers. And, now, here he is, my little city dog, happy that…

From the Terrace

Early evening, almost summer, a slight breeze, Marine Girls’ “Lazy Ways” playing on the radio. A pair of doves waddle in the grass before me. Hirondelles swoop through the cloud-spotted sky above. A lone lizard runs rings around the pool. A stone sculpture, motionless, observing. A bouquet of pink roses swaying on a tall stalk. A…

Adolescent Blé

The fields around Aigremont, Languedoc-Roussillon, France are full of life. I’m over here, squatting in the shade of the old fig tree–I remember when it was knee high, back when I was ten. Pickles is panting beside me; he wants water, but I can’t tear myself away. I am lost in thought. We watch young,…

blackbird*

Today, like every day for the past two years, I take a stroll through the front paths of the back part of the woods. My dog and I watch as the forest changes, as we change with it. From day to day, the coppice grows a muse within me. I kick chestnuts that Pickles tries to eat…

Bruxelles

So… with a dream to satisfy and a former life to forget, here I am, moving to Brussels. Like a raven lost, alone in the trees, sometimes I feel out of sorts. As if I were poised like a big bird by the lagoon, I can see the ripples and hints of what’s coming ahead.…