RENAISSANCE                                       <Arts, Ideas, Lives, Thoughts & Poems >

 

 

 

 

 

 « Arts, Ideas, Lives, Thoughts & Poems »

 

 

 

-  RENAISSANCE -

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Prologue

 

 

 

My desire is writing, poetry .... ideas, a thought towards the philosophy of the mind ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The poet

 

"The poet, transcends his emotions, sees bigger than the ordinary everyday, changes scale, for a painter, his emotions become sensitive harmonious colors, the writer transforms a seemingly ordinary everyday into a multitude of inner feelings more or less strong, his reality is transcended. He exposes his soul. Daily life feeds the poet who lets himself go to his deep nature, to his liberating aphorisms ... "

 

 

The Dream

 

"The dream world is the irrational world. We meet its ghosts of the past loaded with puzzles where the keys remain to be discovered, plays with present realities."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Art - "The world of my Art"

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Rose

 

"My emblem is the Rose, its delicacy with a feminine character, its cheerful colors in the colors of love, red and pink, with a sweet scent and subtle scents, dressed in a fresh morning dew."

 

"My drawing is the drawing of emotion which aims to shape what is most perfectible in humans, what characterizes it, defines it, which is specific to the definition of it. This, a sensitive being, a poetic being. "

 

"My research in drawing would be a double quest, that of beauty and, in the search for the poetic being and the two together being the perfect harmony of the ideal being, of the dreamed being. The desire to an artist inspired by the beauty emanating from beings. "

 

"The practice of my art is a quest towards excellence, towards perfection, without end, and for the sole objective of achieving it."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...

 

  

 

Nude or curves or artistic desire

 

The nude or drawing of the living is an arduous discipline where chance is not advised.

 

The nude requires listening to yourself and the model. Your pencil suggests your ideal, your sensitivity, your emotions or the line transcribes what our mind synthesizes, perceives with an emotion line.

 

Then the successive curves which we evaluate, measure the intensity ; the rendering suggests you such the observation of a landscape on the motive the perfect agreement to put in place to seduce or surprise yourself or your audience and fervent admirers.

 

Matisse a brilliant art of simplicity and grace:

 

"The Art of Matisse is an art with no frills, what defines it is an art that always tends towards grace, the strength of colors and simplicity in the Matissian language ."

 

"I would like to draw the feeling, the delicacy of a hairstyle the attraction of a radiant face the feeling it gives off, the joy, the sadness, the melancholy, the elusive soul of a unique being, the interiority of a being in his privacy. "

 

The eternal woman, of eternal youth:

 

"The woman should be of an eternal youth presenting her best attractions, the radiant face of freshness with the soft contour, delicately drawn to better see beautiful curvatures which draw the chin and the neck as well as the hollow near the eyes which continues to draw a nice descending nose with protruding lips in pretty colors "

 

- "La Rêverie is essential to any creator, the painter accesses it by creating a poetic world with harmonious colors, a play of soft colors in the image of certain paintings by Balthus;" Le rêve I & II "," La Tireuse de Cards "," Young girl at the window "; landscape," Bouquet of Roses on the window "; still life," Fruit on a window sill "…"

 

"My Art reconciles me in the world, art magnifies the beauty of life and its deep meaning ..."

 

"In my Art, I bring up an external truth to better reveal, glimpse, discover an internal truth or to better detect the interiority of beings."

 

"Corroborating Rodin's words about what Art must be, finding the truth which must be either an external or internal truth, I aim in my work to achieve both external beauty and also reveal internal richness, perfection would be to reveal the two truths with a result magnifying them beyond reproach.

 

The goal would be to aim for both, in its fullness. "

 

"The approach of the artistic nude, that is to say the practice of drawing, is a science of emotion and a search for the truth of the model, one's own which is to be discovered, where the present moment remains to be revealed, to find his truth, his inner self ... "

 

"Art must be the expression of freedom: to practice art well, this one in its realization must be simple and offer to the artist all the paths (Keys) of freedom, to exercise it in a way successful .”

 

"The presence of a thing and even more of a being, a person, is essential. The artist confronts his subject, analyzes his model to dissect it, to extract from it, its harmony, the lightness of the lines (Face), its sweetness, its generosity, what a moment of life offers us, immortalize the present moment, the ephemeral, the elusive, seize the grace of a being, it is to approach the domain of the gods, inaccessible places by mere mortals, that is, conquering Olympus. "

 

"The greatest of journeys are interior, traveling the path of oneself."

 

"In Art or in other areas, seeing naked truth is disturbing, but essential for those who discover it, vital and necessary for self-fulfillment."

 

"The exercise of truth: Approaching the truth is a difficult exercise, a tortuous path where one must overcome obstacles, those identifiable in the near present and the others that remain to be overcome in the sphere of the hypothesis, or the future truth may be revealed by effort. "

 

"The true face of the truth discovered can be rich in teaching (even negative); The only truth is oneself ..."

 

"Art allows you to reclaim your past and renew your vision of the present and future, a way to revolutionize your personal image, your vision of yourself."

 

"Everyone has a different approach to art, but it seems to me for it to be true, it must touch the most essential things for his soul and not be any reality that has no importance for himself or for others ...

 

"What would be great art, it could be the bringing together of pictorial art with great music, musical art and we would call them total art."

 

"Drawing is a view of the mind that has no ages, the mind perhaps of an insolent youth ..."

 

"Pictorial art, painting, is an art, if one masters it in the manner of the great masters, requires the art of composition which is a learned art. A successful and elegant composition is an art of great mastery and sensitivity; the position of a hand, an arm, a foot, a body, the profile of a face perhaps of refinement, of unequaled beauty. "

 

"Painting saves the soul of the painter."

 

"The painting of a painter is a reflection of his intimate soul."

 

"Love to its secrets from the domains of the gods. ( Or reserve to the domains of the gods.)"

 

"When you have genius, you can have some flashes."

 

"I think I have some hidden talents ..."

 

"In the search for art, when you practice it, you gradually acquire a 7th sense for me, because I think I have a 6th sense that is in me ..."

 

"A love not transfigured into art is a love not rendered useful or useless or dried up from the origins of its very essence, not revealed."

 

"An old love is a treasure to discover, to reveal, the best to serve you is art."

 

"A love of youth or a first love is an unsuspected treasure."

 

"The woman and her curves to her delicious attire a flower or a morning rose have no less charms."

 

"Perfection is perhaps made women where the harmonious and learned curves as well as the finesse of the body and the spirit defy the masculine character."

 

"Sarah has one day qualified you the feminine and masculine soul in its truth and its exactness of the being where what defines them in their deep being in their inner self."

 

"The femininity delicate features, a perfect musical harmony with the sweetness and pleasure in equal recognizable to great operas."

 

"In love, youth makes you love the soul and the beauty of a young person; his appearance and the reflection of his virgin soul that time could transform, harden or make ugly caused by the trials of life."

 

"The youth of superior to this is that everything is possible, conceivable, and its attractions still virgin of the defects of the uncompromising and rigid characters of a character solidified and frozen in time."

 

"Eugène Fromentin by his multiple hidden talents is a master of romanticism as he would say: 'a master of the past.'"

 

"Destiny was apparently all mapped out for Charlie's heroes, consecration, glory, but a very tragic end awaited them or death is blind executed by his shadow servants."

 

"A country where everything is possible where new and innovative ideas allow the individual to be realized and fulfilled without barriers in a spirit of conquest and pioneer is a country of the future, evolving, growing, rich of the added value of the citizens that this nation forms.

It is the blood of a healthy nation, whose youthful spirit can overcome and fearlessly conquer all the challenges of the future ... "

 

"A territory, a space has borders when the human spirit does not have any, its imagination is inexhaustible, is constantly renewed. The spirit is rebellious and seeks to discover what there is at the end of a path, what hides behind infinity. The new frontier to explore is the human spirit each billion men on our planet is a New World to discover by his spirit, it can be very surprising at the same time very close to his humanity and elusive by his vitality and his surprising logic of his spirit. Man or humanity is distinguished by his spirit, a spirit that seeks his freedom, his identity, his independence and can show compassion. Man is Man / Spirit. "

 

"The painter is the witness of time, with the sweet profile of a seated young girl, in shimmering colors, long hair, crossed hands, the landscape parading rapidly, in hurried moments which are our era with the jerky looks of a train running on the sunny horizon. "

 

"The reserve and the shyness of a young girl, with a complexion blushing with delicacy, with the purity of the sacred characters of the portraits of the great masters of Madonnas all imbued with holiness."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1st BOOK

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One day in Paris

 

- France, dear France.

- France, land of freedom and expression.

- Paris, capital of love and our cherished freedom.

- Oh ! You Paris, this ugly and bruised Black Friday…

- Paris, capital of artists; Chagall, Picasso, Manet, Pissaro , Cézanne, Sysley , Van gogh , Fromentin, Chasseriau , Rodin, Ingres, Matisse, Léger, Balthus, Balzac, Hugo, Zola, Proust…

- You, oh! Capital of arts and letters.

- You, beautiful lady with a refined taste, your immaculate white dress, reddened and struck by monstrous fury.

- No, France, the beautiful rebellious, proud of her values that bring hope and freedom…

- The monstrous beast with a dark design will not triumph.

- You are beautiful, outraged, abused, you will smile, facing the hideous beast.

- The souls of innocent people struck in the heart will shine in the sky.

- You, with your army of shadows, you will not satisfy us. Men and women with freedom-loving minds will not let you do it.

- Barbarism and savagery will not win.

- The minds blinded, of rage, of blood, and of fury will not see the light, promised to the cold blackness of darkness.

 

- The bruised sweet souls will light up the heavens like countless fields of stars lighting up our path promised to a future filled with hope…

 

The author:

Philippe Rousseau.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Florence, my beautiful friend.

 

- My dear friend, to your smile that everything embellishes.

- I would run near your memory.

- Your smile or your eyes reddened with tears, laughter and sadness.

- Your zest for life and your heart filled with tenderness and sadness.

- Yes, you, my dear friend, I loved you madly.

- Always close to you, in our tender moments.

- Your figure in the wind, embellished by your charming clothes.

- Always dressed in taste, in harmony.

- We were made to meet, I should have asked you for an engagement.

- We often laughed, your beautiful eyes under the sun in the King's gardens at Versailles.

- On a sad day, we were surprised by the vagaries of life.

- Far from your eyes, my loving memory, I was only a ghost from the past.

- It was then that everything turned upside down.

- I hope your heart is not too wrinkled.

- Your heart filled with hope and sadness. I am always by your side.

- One day will tell, as for your happy coming, I would go in your arms to kiss you.

 

Author: Philippe

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To you, dear Lionel,

 

Dear Companion,

 

I am saddened, we are all saddened this day, we who crossed your path.

 

You who had your own philosophy in existence.

 

Faced with the shadow, the irony of life, you knew how to take the necessary detachment.

 

Your fight which was yours, I shared it, we are all respectful of your strength.

 

Your memory tells me that you won this battle. I would have liked to see you conquer, other adventures and the success that awaited you.

 

You will be an example for me.

 

The path you have traced with strength and determination enlighten us in the face of difficulty, the desire for success to be accomplished.

 

You who had a taste for discretion, for anonymity, I would have liked to know you a little more, despite our complicity in the work.

 

Your smile of complicity and generosity will be the image of your memory.

 

Life should always be stronger, always winning.

 

I now have tears in front of your evocation that I would have liked still real ...

 

Your Philly

 

The melancholy being

 

"Sadness, melancholy is a feeling difficult to achieve on a drawing, an indescribable feeling is something possible to transcribe by the line is almost unimaginable by other means. One can approach it, but not make the faithful representation, apart from that of the image which puts you in the state of consciousness of the person. "

 

 

To Conquer, a Goal to Reach

 

"Aim for a goal in order to overcome all the obstacles that seem to be an inescapable ditch and persist obstinately there relentlessly. Break down the difficulties one by one, overcome or foil the losing patterns, return each failure to victory. Ward off the law of failure, the fatal logic of formatted and destructive "evil spirits" who could believe themselves in a state of de facto superiority, by their dominant position, like the bird of prey. "

 

What is a truth, and the laws ?

 

"A truth is made to share, to verify itself, it is accepted by all, this, recognized by skillful minds, it is studied, verified, validated ...

 

But this does not make it a truth any more, the truth is a matter of point of view, of culture, which could not be governed by any law, such as the laws of physics which governs our world, our universe, without which would collapse, like the new theories unlike the Big Bang, the big crunch ...

 

Imagined by a most brilliant and innovative mind Stephen Hawking very great mathematician and physicist of our era of the 21st century beginner.

 

 

A haven of peace

 

"A haven of peace, a place to withdraw outside the big cities is a place of appeasement, the property of some free spirit, is independent. Nowadays, this is noted exception, which would like to be shared by a circle of exceptional man like the great bourgeois residences of the 19th and earlier ... "

 

 

Freedom

 

"Liberty, banners and claims affirmed by some, is a sought-after value, is waved today like a standard, a flag. The stars of freedom or the enlightened minds which affirm with strength and conviction by writing and reflections. And not as a public and institutionalized idea is, in my opinion, the best sowers, and the lights for new ideas for the emergence of a new position in favor of independence of mind and greater freedom. Like the spirit of the enlightenment of men who remained free from the 18th century, or Jean-Jacques Rousseau who was the inspiration and the ideologist of the French Revolution.

 

Woman Is Emotional

 

- "The woman who wants to be free spirit is independent. With original seductive and extravagant, brand hoisted up by the luxury industry, and beauty. The feminine spirit is unpredictable, sensitive, and emotional which makes its exception and its value. The feminine imagination is unfathomable so much it is charged with emotion, but it can be with the antipodes and charged with the coldness of the iciest ... "

 

 

Childhood Romantic Time

 

The time of recklessness, or this golden past of youthful times is a world full of romanticism from the first discoveries. The memory of childhood is a photo with slightly blurred looks, as the emotion of this time remains sensitive, and idealized.

This lost and dreamed world with romantic memories is in each of us. We recreate this universe with sweet dreams of a time when all things seem immortalized ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The smile of Jean-Marc Nattier's portraits or Adelaide the daughter of Louis XV

 

The accent of the sweet, inimitable accomplice smile of young women in the painter's sought-after outfits, of the noble people of the court of Louis XV.

These tables with characters and soft colors with a light landscaped background, 18th color or stands out silhouettes where we guess pretty shepherdess or a young woman dressed in a hat and a floral dress with a pretty white bodice near d 'a stylized hamlet with a taste for the times.

 

The touch of Nattier's brush is a delicacy lost highlighting the colorful attitudes of a light pink. The atmosphere that reigns in the paintings where time seems to stop, to come to a standstill to better reveal an art of living, a gentle time with calm and peaceful atmospheres, where the hands of passing time no longer count, frozen time does not do more than one.

 

The sensitivity and emotion all restraint of his painting evokes a time when everything was important, the refined taste and the detail of the pretty things present open the imagination to the time of lights. This 18th century where the lightness of things and spirit was a taste in French, the French Spirit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Balthus, the painter with feminine softness, of a lost time

 

Balthus painter with mysterious and intimate accents.

 

In the sweet portrait of the complexion of a languid young girl. The shyness and innocence of a dreamy young girl exposed. With soft shimmering pastel harmonies of portraits or landscapes and still lifes.

 

The softness, the freshness of his painting is a search, of a lost time, where innocence rubs shoulders, like a profile of a young girl, with calm features, where the personality and the strength of the spirit are revealed. Content of the young model.

 

It must be the whole spirit of a painter of another time like Balthus, to find time, of a lost time.

To find…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Being revealed or unconscious

 

The unconscious is our deep self.

 

Its inner being is the reflection of our soul, revealing it to bring to light the depth of its being, its gushing light or its darkness at the bottom of the abyss.

 

Touch the light or reveal it in a space of an eternal instant with poetic accents, where the light irradiates you and floods your field of space in a bursting burst.

 

The unconscious revealing state puts your reach your field of consciousness at an unsuspected level, reveals your desires and your fears in their initial state of their emotions, in all its original strength and purity.

 

Being is revealed in its beauty by the unconscious, without calculation or premeditation of any kind.

 

The mirror of our soul, or the unconscious or the revealed self, is a powerful field, without notions of values, clinging to our deepest desires ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Poetry or "the Painter of Venus"

 

Alain Bonnefoit like Matisse reincarnated, transports us with his nude drawings in pure poetry where words are powerless, the lines revealed in a soft harmony of colors exalt bodies and minds in innocence with soothing reflections.

 

The feminine subject, its mysteries, its innocence, its sensuality exacerbated without modesty with frightening curves, reveal to you, the feminine being in all its power.

 

 

 

Portrait of a young woman

 

A young woman, in her nature preserves her shyness, her being is the reflection of her pure soul.

 

His curiosity, his freshness, his tranquility, in the gaze of his distant thoughts, scrutinizing the landscape parading on the horizon.

 

The breath of his breath exhaled, a sudden look suddenly lost, then his imposing posture affirms his young character.

 

And in a gentle rest close your eyes in a soothing invasive sleep.

 

 

 

My mother tongue, French

 

Like a sweet nursery rhyme, you appropriate your language, your being, your identity, your own self. Language and like a little inner voice that reflects its own image.

 

The language sings its culture, its distinctions which make all its belonging to a spirit, the spirit of its values; in measure and in subtlety recognizable by a musical air while finesse, the French spirit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

MODIGLIANI or the sacred gaze

 

In this effervescent Paris where all creative minds are bubbling.

 

An artist who predestined himself for sculpture chose painting out of spite, he wanted to be an aristocrat of art, a romantic philosopher of Bohemia.

 

Seekers of the lost soul, with multiple feminist portraits. Jeanne icon with accents of purity. Eternal Muse, absolute being, dreamed ideal desire the ideal of an artist.

 

Blue eyes, with saving pictorial deformations, the artist's sensitivity must correct nature.

 

To be revealed in its primary truth, without artifices, the lost soul shines, witnessing the life of a soul, disembodied look, where painting is stronger than life.

 

The void takes its form in a revealed being, only the appearance of a body remains, only facing the world of the painter, the sole master of a destiny torn from the injustices of life.

 

Only grace, an untouchable value, has no eyes on its heart.

 

Love and its mysteries are the unique object of his painting. His painting is an absolute search for a love quest and seeks to unveil the mystery of love.

 

Death wants to seduce him while he dreams of life, unable to meet the obligations of existence.

 

Hubert Robert (1733-1808)

Painter of the old regime with magnificence

French flavor.

 

Hubert Robert with a picturesque taste for nature became a member of the French Academy in Rome, French art studies on the motif and one of Robert's main subjects with one of his fellow students Fragonard who went there willingly gives up.

 

Painters of Architecture has the sweet melancholy of ruins, true poetics, the ruin witness to the completion of all human civilizations with the keen eye of the times to come which awaits us.

 

Sensitive painter "La Lingère" oil composition in the 18th spirit like Fragonard with a more pronounced taste of poetry in the shimmering colors of brown and red of Venice with decorations masterfully orchestrated in all its simplicity, lightness of the fabrics of the beautiful linenwoman, with the delicate profile, with the released neck, with the raised hair, as well as the rolled-up sleeves, one discovers there a pretty raised arm holding the sheet of the hand delicately suggested until the fingers.

 

Scene implemented by pretty foliage of a few perennial plants arranged here and there in a clever way where we find the taste of nature in Robert as in all paintings of 18th invoices.

 

Hubert Robert saw the decline of the lost-time monarchy of the precious, contrasted by the violence of revolutionary terror, under the dictate of a man, Robespierre, where he was imprisoned, awaiting the agonizing edge of the guillotine and released after the after all tragic end of the man of terror.

 

The revolutionary vandalism by Robert's repeated evocations of ruins, translates the melancholy of the days of a time forgotten forever….

 

Remain the spirit of the time under his brush still alive…

 

 

 

The feminine charm

 

Be passionate with the evanescent presence, distant gaze, with the fine silhouette emanating grace.

 

Undaunted, his whole being radiates romanticism.

 

With a delicate attitude, while femininity. Being a woman.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Resistance

 

Politically correct is a form of language without taste or flavor, poetry or the poet must be in ambush.

 

Our time under this law of insidious silence makes the era and the minds empty. The Word must be murderous just like art without any compromise of any kind.

 

Take the scrub ... The taste of Liberty!

 

 

Waking Up or Fear

 

We get a taste of life under the incessant cheek of a pistol under the temple. Time is increased tenfold, the seconds are centuries to contemplate ...

 

 

Be Yourself

 

"To be Wolf or to be Dog"; the imposed, modern choice of our society and a kind of slavery, faithful to the promise to be kept, feet and hands tied, mouth gagged, imprisoned.

 

The proud and conquering wolf in search of new territories lies in wait for its prey, it is a lord to eliminate ...

 

1860 Frédéric Bazille -

Source of impressionism at the gates of modern painting

 

 

Painters of the batignolles school revealed in a painting by Fantin Latour , he is a gifted friend of Renoir, Monet, Manet, in the workshop on rue Furstenberg .

 

Street in the crossed fate of a painter of our time, Balthus where he paints the painting " La Rue " (from furstemberg ).

 

Manet, the leader who revolutionizes the way of painting and established codes, with the scent of the scandal, under the frock coat, E. Manet, or in the Salon we “ encourage the spirit of Revolt ,” the instigator of the famous Salon des refused.

 

Frédéric, a conscientious student from Gleyre's studio with a sure design, he plays with color with freshness and a truth in tones with light effects.

 

Painter with daring compositions with a fast touch and an economy of means inspired by his master Manet, whom he follows in his footsteps, whom he compares to Cimabue and Giotto for Italy in the Quattrocento.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Spirit is peopled with hell

( or the hidden world of our uncertainties).

 

 

 

A person's Spirit is an unexplored world.

 

A world without limits or borders where reality and imagination clash.

 

At the gates of Heaven or hell ...

 

The mind is an entity in its own right that has a freedom and a truth that tests ourselves.

 

Our dreams like frail ships sail in the sandstone of currents and winds go far away towards the indescribable infinite.

 

The spirit perhaps of a lightness or loaded with an invasive weight where our spirit is peopled with hell at the gates of paradise.

 

Prisoner of our mind or our unconscious drifts, exploring the meanders of our contradictions and hidden truths to better extract them without our knowledge.

 

The spirit is conquering, independent in the assault of new territories or new borders.

 

The untamed human spirit is infinite and wild.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2nd BOOK

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

- The Spirit is peopled with hell.

 

- Beauty invites to perfection.

 

- Art is gentle violence.

 

 

 

The Painter of Sentiment

 

Painting or drawing the feeling is the essence of my artistic approach, the very essence of my vision.

 

For me, this is the only reason and justification for all of my work.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Truth of the Beings

 

The alchemy of the soul or the painter of Sentiment

 

A feeling is a fleeting thing of being. What distinguishes beings is their interiority or their moods.

 

Revealed by that elusive thing that is feeling or what one experiences internally as a result of the alchemy of being.

 

Communicated by speech or rather the imperceptible that we perceive in the loved one, without words or noises. He is there present in the person revealed by his presence, his natural authenticity.

 

This invisible thing that shows through in the interior of being, in human passions. Who escapes communication is a naked truth, pure in its state, without calculations?

 

I believe I am in search of this state, to reveal this indescribable truth by means which calls upon its feelings, its felt, its lived, in search of the truth of the beings.

 

Find the soul of a being or the purity of feelings or grasp the unfathomable, the inexpressible truth.

 

 

 

 

 

The imaginary

 

The world of my imagination or a real present reality that imposes itself on me through my drawing and my painting. This is the miracle of art or an artistic approach that imposes itself on you.

 

Imagination and a stronger force, more real than the presence of reality.

The miraculous precious.

 

 

Truth is in Perfection

 

With regard to art, there is a truth, a truth of the work, Art lays bare the truth of the one who uses it. It is the artist and in the quest for perfection, he must shape perfection or strive for it to reach his truth.

 

Perfection makes it possible to approach the truth of the work or the goal to be achieved.

 

To reach perfection or its perception of it is to discover the truth in its accomplishment and in its purest nature of the forces which support it of feeling, of beauty, in its original strength or state.

 

Achieve this perfection and discover its truth, its meaning, a state of revelation, transcendence accomplished.

 

It is a journey that leads to the artist's truth in his quest for the absolute.

 

Truth and Perfection.

 

Beauty invites perfection

 

 

All beauty is the sign of perfection, it is its essence, its elixir, its digest, its mathematical algorithm. Beauty is the result of present accomplished perfection.

 

All beauty and the result of a mechanism which are the purity of a learned balance of a goldsmith's precision, of a universal law.

 

Beauty is a path that excludes all approximations, chance, but the result of an in-depth research, calculated, evaluated, the result of thoroughness, of a natural law.

 

This search is the path to perfection where we find a perfect balance. Result of eternal or universal beauty immortalized in the work of an artist or the accomplishment of his ultimate work.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

With the unconscious towards new horizons

 

Open your field of consciousness to unexplored fields.

 

The unconscious makes you travel, transport towards unexplored possibilities, towards one or elsewhere, other possible, towards a better with yourself and the others, a possible sharing.

 

The opportunity to achieve success, self-fulfillment.

 

The unconscious this misunderstood thing, this other possible rejected, hidden.

 

It is a source of renewal, an unsuspected engine of another balance, being at peace with one's unconscious or going towards the path of self-realization…

 

 

 

The beauty of women walk like masterpieces

 

The woman or the female model with angelic seduction like Italian, Raphaelian or Ingres nudes, intoxicates you with their natural beauty like a diamond of unsuspected purity, incomparable, unique, the woman's body was made by masters of goldsmiths who reason like masterpieces of great masters of classical or renaissance painting.

 

The masterpiece is made women or the female body rivals the genius of the artist, its creator ...

 

The Language of Flowers or

" Les Boréades " or Alphas and Borée

 

Feelings are perfumed, to the elixirs of the language of the heart, Flowers are their attributes.

 

In the Land of Boréades , where the heart and the Vapors of Sentiments are in competition with the recognition of its rank, of its position where there is no place for pretenders without recognition ; or without strength by position or without people's respect for acquired goods and values are a prerequisite for his condition as a man.

 

The colorful and perfumed language which speaks to the instances of the heart of the loved one. It is a language with a touch of purity far from the intransigent laws of the unjust, ferocious, cruel and cowardly Boréades .

 

 

 

The Truth of sentient beings

 

 

A passionate being is pure, like an angel in his brilliantly white kingdom.

 

Where light reigns, it lightens being without truths or lies.

 

Truth is transparent like a perfect crystal where no one shadows where impurity would lodge there.

 

The female being

 

 

Attentive, sensitive, under an appearance of assumed fragility, is a being with a soft appearance or the soul breathes the tenderness and generosity of the heart.

 

 

Sweet women or the triumphant hair

 

The beauty of a woman and a hair is in the Feminine.

 

The tangles, the styling, the scholarly hairstyles compete with the splendid and magnificent horse manes.

 

The wild hairstyle with a thousand curls or orderly folds, structuring this triumphant trophy to the glory of the female masterpiece.

 

Distinguished attributes like a feline in her bright dress.

 

Objects so coveted by artists for the production of a work imbued with poetry, harmony, dreamy beauty all Malthusian .

 

 

 

 

French luxury

 

The refinement is French in its language, in the art of hospitality, in the big brands of haute couture and perfumery, its musical arts, its great masters of painting and even in the fields of science.

 

French taste is courted, sought-after all over the world, an indelible imprint of our spirit and our culture.

 

In the great upheaval of globalization where everything tends to become uniform without taste, taste or distinction ...

 

French identity is a trademark in itself like Paris, the capital of romanticism and love sung by our poets ...

 

Paris in the Era of the 21st century is the capital of the “ cop 21 ” may be our last salvation in the world.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The empty idol mirror

 

The despair of spirits or their poverty or ill-being are in search of idols who would fill their void or lack, fill their accessible ideal ready to consume.

 

Today's society with mirrors of idols and a fleeting decoy with light, indigent and poor spirits. Our modern society where the interiority of beings is diminished impoverished where knowledge has no equal to an incalculable void.

 

The culture that is the object of our national heritage and a facade where only a few adventurous spirits go astray, the economy of work or our model of life of the immediacy of the ready-to-consume in emergency or a short time, where we must live in the snapshot, we empty our wealth.

 

Time, the time found must be our ally, must stand still stop for a richer search, a time deepened in the acquisition of knowledge whose culmination of our identity is alone at this price.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Creation and genius

 

 

The geniuses of the first centuries, to those modern painting competing between Van Dyck, Michel Ange, Léonard de Vinci, Raphaël, Titian, Rubens, Poussin, Ingres, Delacroix, Picasso, Matisse still reason through the centuries by a dazzling list of achievements of creators touched by grace and beauty.

 

No one can compete with as much impertinence as these geniuses of creation, rivaling the miracles of a single creator, of a universal, divine order ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mr. D or the painting resurfaces or

Degas dance Drawing

 

Fervent admirer Paul Valery has the project to write on Edgar Degas, but thinks that he will not see it with a good eye, gives up.

 

Then he wrote to focus on the question of creativity and genius. And writes on " introduction to the Leonardo da Vinci method " and " The Evening with Mr. Test .”

 

Paul Valery on his writing on Degas aims to understand the challenges of a life of creation. His work is kaleidoscopic and surprising, with reflections on creation, anecdotes, memories ; like those of Berthe Morisot…

 

The work is a movement on sensations and feelings, always guided by his reflection on creation with heart and less with spirit, and shows evidence of one of those who knew the artist.

 

Everything is drawing at Degas, up to sculpture, because it is its essence, the Line.

 

The thought of Valery like the drawing of Degas where everything is questioning of this post-revolutionary century where the line is shifting like modernity abandons certainties.

 

Degas revolutionizes his art and seeks something else, no longer conceiving a masterpiece as the outcome of a process.

But rather in the making of variations. In the idea of a process of repeating patterns, of observations.

 

And the drawing is a vector of speed of execution for the artist, who particularly interests him.

 

Degas is at a crossroads is rocked between the 19th century and the 20th century the circle of the impressionists where another modernity is born.

 

The avant-garde meet where the Young Picasso admires Degas and First buyer ...

 

 

 

Dream of a young girl

 

The sweet dream to take away the young girl is sacred.

Like an angel in paradise where his chimerical world is unreachable, where only a pure immaculate universe resides in the image of paradise where only the all-powerful creator rubs shoulders.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do not give in to mediocrity always go ahead.

 

 

Life is a path where you have to find your way, and choose forcibly the bifurcations that lead to self-realization, for a better one, to prove one's aptitudes and the means to achieve oneself.

The spirit can be stronger than the paths of destiny which can confuse you with your ideal, your self-worth, your individuality, self.

Do not allow yourself to be mediocre, which you are forced to do, but clarify your way towards possible elsewhere, its territory to conquer, on an equal footing, with its fields of its ideals and reasoning and intellectual capacities developed, internalized in itself, whose value awaited its revealed fulfillment.

 

 

 

Nude or curves or artistic desire

 

The nude or drawing of the living is an arduous discipline where chance is not advised.

 

The nude requires listening to yourself and the model. Your pencil suggests your ideal, your sensitivity, your emotions or the line transcribes what our mind synthesizes, perceives with an emotion line.

 

Then the successive curves which we evaluate, measure the intensity ; the rendering suggests you such the observation of a landscape on the motive the perfect agreement to put in place to seduce or surprise yourself or your audience and fervent admirers.

 

 

The Sentiment of Words

 

 

The color of the words, evocative power, the poetic drift of the words, transports us to the shores of an unexplored world.

 

The drift of words abandoned offshore is a call to moods where deep exacerbated feelings mingle that resonate with poetic scrolls.

 

The language of words has the feeling of the heart where reason escapes the waves to the soul, running away from feelings.

 

 

Butterfly Effect

 

Fly in the sandstone of the wind.

 

With its whitish wings, fly in the blue of the sky.

 

Be a butterfly and fly towards the thread of a promising destiny, of a destiny to win back somewhere else.

 

Endless battle was constantly in search of your ideal.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The color or the poetry of the senses

 

 

The poetics of colors is a sensory language of a chimerical world, with cottony skies in pastel colors.

 

The poetic sense of sensitive and light harmonies lifts you up in a dream world, a poetic ideal where the imagination is king where everything is impressions, emotions.

 

 

 

The Dream of Ossian, Poem or

the painted work by Ingres

 

 

Ingres's work is of rare poetry, illustrating the battles and loves of the 3rd century Scottish bard

 

Where a staging of the hero and his wife, his son, his entwined bride, surrounded by angels and valiant soldiers carried in a ghostly cloud.

 

In the foreground, the Ossian bard is seated, leaning on his harp and dreaming.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Absolute of Romanticism by Girodet or

 " Atala at the tomb " - 1808

 

 

Canvas where romantic vibrating eroticism is an icon.

 

The exhibition of the painting in the Salon 1814 rekindles the passions where sentimentalism is the hallmark of these times ...

 

And represents the very expression of romanticism Girodet with a melancholic sensitivity has imposed itself after the workshop of David as the painter of tormented loves breathes a new poetry.

 

The beautiful romantic Atala dies in the arms of her beloved Chactas .

 

The reason is that they decided to unite in marriage, when Atala remembered the promise made to her mother to remain a virgin and Christian and choose suicide and thus escape her passion.

 

The silence of meditation in the painting around the slender body wrapped in a virgin shroud and the ultimate passionate embrace which accompanies the beloved figure towards the grave, the contained and yet so perceptible pain of the lover is the erected representation of the glory of the nascent romanticism.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Be Pure Poetic

 

The feminine being is all poetry.

 

Feminine sensibility is pure poetry.

 

The attitude, the gesture of the hair, the lost profile of a young woman with hair falling on the shoulders are pure poetry.

 

 

Feminine dream

 

The desire of a pretty woman with a charming smile enchants you, transports you to another place, a dreamed ideal, with the charm of the delicacy of bewitching perfumes with nectar of intoxicating attractions of the female being and its voluptuous splendors, with idealized curves who reason with the charms of love.

 

Woman be of passions with a generous heart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sweet love

 

To my dear tender love.

 

My beauty of the day, enchantress of my life.

 

Dear Love, my Tender Love, my dear Lover with an enchanting Look full of touching Mischievousness, dear Love.

 

Treasure, my muse of my dreams, with infinite desires, my beautiful lover, my tender love.

 

My beautiful, oh love, tender love, the woman of my life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The garden of your love

 

My lover, I would like to win your love.

 

The purity of your feelings, I would like to cultivate them in your secret garden, to be the modest gardener of your love, to maintain the rose of your heart.

 

May it flourish in a red color like love with the subtle scents of a sought-after fragrance that enhances the scents of happiness.

 

I would like to conquer the path of your love.

 

And love you, and share the fruit of your love, be the attentive gardener of your heart, my love.

 

 

The Eye of Destiny

 

A singing journey like Monsieur Trenet Charles, who is close to success.

 

Destiny awaits you to surprise you, to offer you opportunities, meetings that reveal and change you.

 

The pupa will one day become a butterfly to fly from flower to flower.

 

Make your life a journey of self to conquer success, a possibility to achieve.

 

Envy in the spirit of your being

 

 

Being and spirit, the inexplicable love of beings attracted like stars from a summer sky.

The spirit of your elusive being, free and light as a butterfly wing.

The essence of your charming, joyful and benevolent spirit.

My love for you growing day by day.

Love, you radiate in my heart like a sun.

What is love ?

You oh love, pure soul with elusive beauty with a thousand facets, you shine and light dazzling fires of your high values are equal to universal ideals.

 

 

Literature

 

Literature is Voluptuousness and Sensuality, a snub to the inevitable ...

 

An ode to life, to desire, to love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sweet love, sweet love.

 

My heart wanders that love is sweet.

 

The sweetness of feelings with loving gestures, everything is desire and expectation.

 

Time is our Pygmalion who knows how to bite us at the moment so much desired, dreamed.

 

The colorful poetry love with unexpected flavors or the intensity of love culminates in the intention of the loved one, courted, adored, is revealed.

 

Love is a revelation of the other, of oneself, of shared or hoped-for desire.

 

Love reveals desire, the sweetness of feelings, of the voluptuousness of beings, of passions.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Geneva the seductive hidden in the golden shores

 

The Sumptuous woman lets herself be discovered according to her moods, you Genevoise.

 

And you, my beloved, we walk in the chic neighborhoods or we marvel.

 

In your eyes, I escape and travel towards enchanting horizons.

 

My beloved in the center café, on our table with a Geneva white fabric, we revel.

 

Your laughing eyes and smile light up my heart.

 

You are my enchanted princess, your heart and your eyes are a thousand blue suns.

 

Your thoughts, your spirit accompany me to an enchanting country.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The newlyweds of year II or my love

 

Charlotte's passionate loves that alternate between jubilation and passions unfulfilled are the romanticism spicy love passions to the French spirit.

 

Dear love and tender beloved, I love you madly like his adventures full of charms and sentimentality where love is king.

 

I love you my dear

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Passion Drawing

 

The art of drawing the living model elevates us everything becomes poetry, a matter of wonder.

The art of the nude is an art culminating in the search for perfection and poetry.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Time Travelers

 

To future journeys in the universe, to distant unknowns beyond the futuristic and avant-garde human sciences towards the impossible, the unimaginable, towards an endless world, beyond known borders.

Like Agostinelli and Proust travelers of their time.

Or Agostinelli wants to cross the sleeve aboard a cuckoo called the Swann.

Where Agostinelli left did not return or Proust had the remorse of his life, to have advantageously financed his valet and friend of the heart towards death.

Proust at his expense had the body repatriated to the ground for the repose of his soul.

His beings of passions and hearts are our travelers from a time past and forgotten by our future avant-garde in the information age without souls, where logic and synthetic intelligence are the announced future of humanity…

 

 

The loved one

 

The loved one is a light in the shade.

 

This light accompanies you, guides you on a path that illuminates you, towards a better, an ideal.

 

Love grows for you.

 

My love, your smile and your moments of joy shine in my heart which beats for you my love.

 

 

 

On the edge of the abyss,

 

Light festivals in Lyon

 

The metro becomes Hell, the innumerable crowd.

 

The weather becomes narrow, in pursuit of a train departure to arrive on time, the obstacles are linked.

 

You are manhandled, put your nerves to the test, on the tightrope. It's the race, arriving just in time on the station platform, arriving just at the right time, in time.

This train quickly becomes crowded, the atmosphere is oppressive people crowd, agglutinate, get nervous just looking for a viable space.

 

Then, it is the anguish which goes up not knowing why, while awaiting a calming, a moment of calm after all this tumult. You close your eyes in search, of a soothing calm, all this mixture, is upset then gradually serenity peaks, to gradually regain confidence, regain consciousness. People are more peaceful, calm gradually settles towards serenity, finally ...

 

Me, found ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Love found or in search of the loved one

 

My love, I found you and hoped for so much.

You are my horizon, my light, my hope.

I love you sincerely, with a deep love.

You knew how to find me, tame me, thank you for that.

Your mind, your being, your eyes all please me.

Without you, I'm incomplete.

You are my longed for love.

To you my darling love

 

Philippe

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Being and Nothingness

 

 

One day, I am.

Life is like this, we are discovering ourselves and the world.

 

The discovery is endless, our world is a universe full of surprise, and novelty, it is endless.

 

Our thirst for learning is infinite just like life.

This life which one appropriates, guesses, discovers and rediscovers.

 

What was there before our world, the Void ?

 

What about after us, the Void ?

 

Being and nothingness, that is our question, it is endless.

 

Just like our universe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Quantum Spirit in contrast to

the " conscience, " called " quantum "

 

 

What is the quantum mind ? Who rubble quantum physics in my mind.

 

What is quantum physics ?

It escapes our Cartesian reason, even Albert Einstein, a great physicist, did not want to be resolved !

 

Quantum physics is surprising multiple, one of a kind, confused and logical at the same time as if " one " is only " one " was not enough, various, and has the gift of ubiquity or omnipresence.

 

Then the quantum mind would be a supernatural being, an infinite, diverse mind, both here and void by and everywhere, incomprehensible to our human and instinctive mind.

 

Would it be inhuman, superhuman, immeasurable, an infinitely multiplied logic, humanly inconceivable?

 

Is it our distant future ? For the fulfillment and development of our humanity ?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Love and Desolation

 

 

- You, dear and tender.

 

- To be loved, the arid and desolate lands are emerging at the end of the day.

 

- No tumult, no orchestrated disorder, but a deafening silence filled with complaints.

 

- Alone in the face of disorder, the only survivor of a flood of calamities near the abyss.

 

- Can I survive this flood which invades me, I try to catch a glimpse of the light?

 

- The terrible unhappiness overwhelms me, tears me apart, what to do ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Spleen and Poetry

 

 

Illness invades me, surprises me, seizes me on the infinite instant, on the expanse of an ocean.

 

Could I get rid of it that tears flesh and soul?

 

The soul drifts, gets lost, drags on forever and never ends.

 

The curse pursues you relentlessly and becomes one body.

 

This sensation radiates you with all fire, burns your soul.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Black Moment

 

In your shadow, on the edge of reality.

 

Time catches up with us, invaded by nothingness which overwhelms our adrift.

 

Lightning flashes to strike you in your slow drift, towards misty and deserted places.

 

Lift and haunt you, violent and sudden like a fallen angel.

 

Draws you towards the abysses of the depths of darkness to engulf you there in the space of an eternal and terrible instant.

 

Suddenly, coming out of the torpor, from a heavy sleep, awake, time stops.

 

Everything moves around you, immobilized, helpless actors, mortified, petrified forever.

 

Life unfolds like a veil obscured by the shadow.

 

Caught in a black dream on the edge of hell.

 

Out of darkness, you fail groggy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

An ideal meeting

 

 

At the bend of the path, of a short trip, a chance meeting can seduce you.

 

To meet a being who is intellectually equal to yourself is attractive, unexpected, simple and pleasant.

 

Along the journey, hand in hand with a life philosophy of one of the successful authors recognized for his Zen philosophical thoughts, she traverses this relaxed, curious one.

 

After a short sleep break, she grabs a notebook, then the pencil quickly and quickly sweeps the surface of the notebook paper. Fine writing, small, dense, the notebook without lines, the words scroll quickly to fill the page then the back, in an unexpected pleasure, gluttony.

 

After having lain down on paper, the articulation of his shooting thought and quite happy to have accomplished his task, closes his notebook, with relief and undisguised pleasure.

 

We then exchanged a few quick words to discover his personal passions and the writing we share as well as the drawing.

 

Delighted to have approached a curious and brilliant spirit, of a pleasant simplicity, quick to exchange.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Love,

 

- We love our loved one.

- A desirable being adored.

- You if desired and loved.

- You make our heads spin.

- Your laughter and your anger are a thousand emotions.

- Our desires and our fears are our Pygmalion

- Time weaves our history.

- I dream of an ideal, of love and sharing.

- You, women, be gentle and passionate, I hope your well-being.

- Love is a battle, a victory to conquer.

 

 

 

Life

 

One sad day, without the sun, the landscape, the trees pass by.

The train runs on the thread of life.

Suddenly a ray of sunshine dawns.

What to say about this sad life?

Love and hope at will.

What gnaws my soul, in the woes of life?

Perhaps someday calming will come.

Our life like a dented path will one day find its Elysian fields.

 

I love you

 

I love you.

 

You are more beautiful than a flower.

 

You are the Rose of my heart.

 

 

 

The Mystery of the Female Being

 

 

Pretty women with feminine forms are of all graces.

 

The hair falling on the shoulders which reveals a pretty face, the elegant bust, pretty hands with tapered fingers to the tips of the nails.

 

Grace is feminine, mysterious, sweet.

 

The feminine attitude marked by lightness, charms, an attractive candor inspiring the confidence of the loved one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Art and Life

 

Live your life, the requirement of life.

 

Life with its tumult and priorities, leaves nothing to chance, so goes life.

 

Meeting with an artist who also faced the demands of life, the world of work.

 

Flourished in his art, no worries show through.

 

The desire is there, sharing and simplicity, of a demanding, perfect, impeccable art ...

 

Available for his art, art for his life, art one of his priorities.

 

The radiant look, accessible to his world, has the desire, the desire for a radiant art.

 

I would like to find its way, towards an accomplishment, a discovery, assertiveness.

 

Art makes you want…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dream of you

 

Your smile enchants me, your seductive eyes invade me, I dream of you ...

 

Your skin softness, like a fragrant flower, exalts passion and love.

 

Your feminine lines with delicious curves intoxicate me, revealed my passionate imagination, a sentimental dream, a dreamlike desire.

 

I dream of you, my love.

 

 

 

Gérard GAROUSTE or

 the Painting found

 

Painting is a language, a thought, an enigma and its keys to decipher.

 

Gérard Garouste plays with madness to decipher his own puzzles.

 

His painting full of code therefore the family, religion, his fears, his family secrets, Freudian psychology, his psyche, his anxieties, his personal history ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

Childhood time, memory or present time

 

Childhood is a wonderful and happy period that we would like to immortal and that we live with adolescence.

 

This privileged time, this carefree time, its timeless precious moments, we can relive them with our own children or nephews or nieces who remind us of this joyful time, this time of freedom, this time of discovery of things and world that one should not have left.

 

Live the time of vacation, travel, family.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Angel or demon

 

The soft sky under its protective angels is attractive. The wings push you like Icarus to get closer to the Zenith to see bliss.

 

Icarus had an unenviable fate in getting too close to the sun, gray with altitude.

 

The man and the woman two beings to love, understand, support each other are identical in their desires to congratulate her.

 

The demon can arise, reveal itself, appear under attractive features, monopolize you, devour you.

 

We can be surprised to rub shoulders with the devil who slyly surfaces to better tame you and be in his grip, at his mercy, under his wing waiting for the end.

 

The cursed lovers or the magnificent lovers

 

Like Modigliani and Jeanne Hébuterne who dreamed of an accomplished life, of a couple, misfortune had caught up with them.

 

Impetuous, determined, running after a dream, a chimera, overwhelmed, out of control, no longer controlling her actions, fleeing reality, life, overwhelmed by her emotions, her thoughts, she goes adrift like a river in vintage, not knowing which direction to go.

 

Life catches up with you, with its contradictions, its illusions like a theater or life or the characters would only be a play of shadows and lights.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Impossibility of the Heart

 

Impossible love, forbidden love.

 

The heart for reasons that ignore the feelings.

 

The eyes of love are blind, do not see what the heart or reason imagines.

 

Love is powerless to find the way of reason, only ardent passions are present.

 

Or the curse of the heart of lovers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Garden of Unhappiness

 

My love, my friend, what have you done?

 

To the pleasure of life come the arid paths, desolate and inhospitable places.

 

The paradises so longed for are ferments of hatred and jealousy, of lies, what have you done?

 

You, my love, my garden of abundance where fruits are loved, what have you done?

 

Pleasure is accompanied by a litany of displeasure.

 

A paradise for hell, what have you done?

 

The hoped-for angels are potentially the forces of displeasure and hatred and misunderstanding.

 

You and your only liver to desire, devour, swallow the mountains of the horizons of love, happiness, the pleasure of being two, what have you done?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The imaginary traveler

 

On new horizons, curiosity is heightened, fears and desires are mixed.

 

The carefree traveler, unprepared for the unexpected and the inconvenience, is quickly disoriented, chosen victim, designated in advance.

 

Misfortune never happens alone, it is a heap, a continuation.

 

Despite your efforts in the face of adversity, the person loved and pampered by you, is annoyed, irritated, indisposed, quick to take revenge.

Perhaps the object of your misfortune, your misfortune.

 

Your friend from the very first days, through the torments and vicissitudes of life, can decide to be the instrument of your Way of the Cross.

 

In these inhospitable heavens, sent to purgatory, chosen victim, at the mercy of adversity.

 

Lucky people are very happy, life has pampered them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Intoxication of Pleasures

 

Joy and love, the hope of sentient beings.

 

Life triumphs over misfortune, the source of happiness flows to who knows how to discover it, imagine it.

 

The mind is stronger than life. Uproar and fury fade away from the will of the mind.

 

The mind is a borderless, infinite, limitless, indomitable horizon.

 

Life is intoxication with pleasures.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Language of Flowers,

At Cocteau's Stars

 

The poetics of flowers, with scented colors and scents enchant you, the desire to dream.

 

Flowers are words, with poetic overtones where their flowery languages call for love, grace and the desire for beauty.

 

Everything is marvelous to those who know how to look and discover.

 

The world is an enchantment with a thousand facets like the bright stars of a summer night sky, the poetic stars of Cocteau.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Women

 

Woman, who are you ?

 

The ingenious Natalie Wood with a devastating look and body.

 

You are desirable and attractive like a shooting star in the starry night.

 

You are sweetness or all fire and flame, nothing can resist you, clinging to your desires and your dreams.

 

You dear woman with an unpredictable character like a sleeping volcano ready to rage under burning fires.

 

Women with a thousand faces you are one and multiple.

 

Woman love guides and nourishes you.

 

You devour life and people with passion.

 

Envy overwhelms you attracted by a protective angel who will fulfill your thousand hopes and dreams.

 

The desire to be a woman.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Poetics of Beauty

 

To go towards beauty is to go to poetry.

 

Only the path of poetry guides you to grace, beauty and the love of life's despair.

 

A being of passion is all poetry.

 

Pure poetry is a state of grace.

 

Only beauty and art put you in a state of consciousness that is poetry.

 

Each being aspires to the beautiful, only poetry will lead you to this path of grace and appeasement.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The origins of painting

or Pieter Bruegel the Elder

 

Painters in the old Netherlands and sailed between Antwerp as a master, for a long time, and subsequently practiced in Brussels where he settled permanently in 1563.

Pieter Bruegel the Elder is celebrated from Antwerp to Brussels, his radiant work, a pillar of Flemish heritage, still alive today.

 

Masterpieces including Dull Griet (“ Margot the mad ” also known as “ Margot the enraged ”) very singular painting, the genre of which is a rarity for its time and one of the most fascinating works of the northern renaissance .

 

" The Fall of the Rebel Angels " significant work that marks the spirits between angels, the great dragon, the ancient serpent called the devil and Satan, a real apocalyptic battle " Woe to you, because the devil came down to you with great anger knowing that he has little time left… ”

 

And so a great Saint-Michel with a slender, disarticulated body, leads the celestial legions against the satanic dragon who converted a part of the angels and decided to rebel against God.

 

" The consolidation of Bethlehem " refers to a passage from the Gospel of Saint Luke, the view of the painting dominating the entire landscape by its height is part of the tradition of " World Landscape " or " Cosmic Landscape " which is the brand of the Flemish style from the beginning of the century.

 

" Winter landscape with skaters and birds hatch " major work from a particularly cold period of 1565-1567 within what is customary to call the " little ice age, " the memorable winters allowed, '' install a pictorial genre favored by Flemish and Dutch painters from the second half of the 16th century.

 

For Bruegel, this state of affairs confronting the population with the rigor of time dominated by nature towards these demands on the human condition and other puzzles whose trap for birds giving the name to the painting is unexplained as to the message or meanings faced with the rigors of winter which does not affect men in their daily lives.

 

" The Flemish proverbs " work which is one of the most popular since its return to grace in the twentieth century. Work comprising a profusion of tasty characters with comical details that inevitably compromise the unity of the composition.

 

" The Tower of Babel, " Bruegel the Elder returned several times to the theme of the Tower of Babel. His representations of the insolent biblical building, which is undoubtedly one of the most fascinating subjects of his work.

 

" Harvest, " to consider only the summer and the crucial time of mowing, this table shows harvesters who have stopped working to eat and rest in the shade of a small tree. The harvest is first remarkable for its entirely secular nature. The subject is nature or more exactly the almost symbiotic relationship, punctuated by the great calendar phases, of humanity and of a majestic nature which shelters it, nourishes it, contains it.

 

The artist tends to free himself from the fantastic stereotypes, characteristic of the initiators of the landscape in the Old Netherlands, to reach a form of naturalist poetry of perhaps unprecedented intensity, from classical literature and the georgics of Virgil. The articulation of the undulating golden mass of wheat interrupted by a green landscape, which extends, in an admirable midst of summer heat, to a coastline from which a few boats soar is a source of perpetual wonder.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Rose or the love of women

 

Yes, you are loved, we are courting you.

Hoping to gain your interest.

Your eyes and your smile attract us, ready to seduce you.

Everything remains to be done, to win your heart.

A word from you and the world is shining.

One day your eyes, everything amazes, another day everything is sadness.

 

You sensitive as a flower, we pick the roses of happiness, to find the love of our life.

 

 

 

 

A soul in pain

 

Everything is joyful when everything shines.

Love, the balm of happiness for souls in pain.

Heart drifting, you wander in pain.

Blinded by your desires, your inexhaustible desires.

You are struggling to gain a possible desirable, the ideal being, without notable imperfections.

 

Happiness is good.

 

 

Love,

 

Intangible, odorless and fragrant from the heart. Rose or Jasmine.

Without priceless value to who knows how to win hearts.

Happiness or misfortune without notions of values, with lucky hearts.

 

Eternal Quest, Loving Beings

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The poetic elegance of love,

Galland’s love at the gates of romanticism

 

The amorous dream of Fragonard "the painter in love with beauty," guided by F. Boucher, "My dear Frago, you are going to see in Rome, Michelangelo, Raphaëlle, I tell you in confidence and very low ... If you take these people seriously, you are a lost man ... "

 

The amorous discourse, the melancholy and dreamy spirit, love, my dear Frago, attentive pupil of Chardin and especially later of F. Boucher, Fragonard or the master of the elegance of the poetry of love at the French ...

 

French genius announced at the Royal Academy, he gives up for his more pronounced personal taste and his clientele at the expense of a career at the academy, recognized by the King.

 

Author of the famous paintings "Psyche showing her sisters the gifts of love"; "The escarpolette"; "The moment you want"; "The Lost Stake or The One Kiss"; " The lock " ; “The celebration in the park of Saint-Cloud”.

 

Galland’s love or sincere love, a strong subject at the start of his career like F. Boucher, heir to the 17th century, playful Galland love, all in discretion, sensual amorous feeling, in the Utopian Bergé wrapped in a dreamed Arcadia with shampooed sheep, faithful, sincere love, with the sophistication of a civilization with the taste of precious forts in the 18th century where the sexes are equal, a revolution of ideas at that time.

Vivant Denon by "Point de demain,’ creator of the famous "Le Louvre" museum, with a philosophy of living in the moment, without worrying about the next day, this is the new ideal of this disturbing 18 centuries, with more liberated customs.

"The Happy Moment or The Useless Resistance"; "La Culbute"; " Firecrackers " ; "The jets of water"; "My shirt is burning"; "Unnecessary resistance"; "Two women on a bed playing with two dogs, or getting up,’ the drawings and paintings are at the peak of her libertine spirit, of happy love ...

Makes place at the end of his life a change, of course, in the spirit of the time, in its evolution; "Romantic love,’ which is in the dream, the feeling, at the junction of the image and its vanishing, in the night, a flash, a volatile color, the blur, on the contrary of bright color, the spirit playful of the beginnings of gallant love ...

 

He stayed in Grace, and had the Salon de la du Barry installed in his own way, he also painted in the Villa Maubert. Alexandre Maubert, a wealthy perfume merchant, once owned it. He received a visit from his cousin, the painter from Grasse Jean-Honoré Fragonard, during the revolutionary turmoil. The painter's son, Alexandre-Évariste Fragonard, decorated the staircase with paintings in shades of gray. Allegories of the young republic sit alongside ancient figures and Masonic symbols. This remarkable decor is extended in the form of an architectural trompe-l'oeil to the garden level. There he made his last paintings of his work.

Him as cantor of the pleasures of the old, he was not disturbed by the revolutionaries ... The protection of Fragonard by his friend David, friend of Robespierre and great helmsman of the arts, where he could keep his apartment in the Louvre and also be one of its curators, in a museum that the revolution instituted in the palaces of fallen kings ...

 

Inventor of the sketch paints like the announced new painting of the Impressionists, he represents the French spirit, the painter in love with love, inspired the great master Renoir, was quick to flush out genius under the lightness of smiles ...

 

"Because Fragonard was laughing, we were quick to say that he was a little painter" - Auguste RENOIR

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3rd BOOK

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ecology, our dear EARTH, “ A Crime ” or

the Assassin Man and nature…

 

- Man a utopia of nature…

- This Earth, our Earth, Blue Planet oasis of our starry universe.

- The man or the end ...

- Man or the suicide of life, of our world.

- Honest, criminal man or sincerity.

- Man or genocide or unreasonable madness or intellectual genocide or revisionism of the crime of nature or the tragedy announced, of our murdered nourishing land…

- Nazism, the crime of humanity, man or the crime of nature, of the living, of the animal world, of our vacillating humanity or the end of the world, the end of our world…

- Poor men, poor humanity who will win everything to lose everything to win everything, and lose to life…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The tumult

 

- Caught in the storm, the elements are unleashed around you.

- Your mind wanders, floats in the elements. Carried away by a destructive wave,

You resist this pervasive outburst.

- But no tumult can divert you from your deep being.

- You are there, on a frail skiff tossed about on all sides, nothing can reach you.

- You resist, like an impregnable, inviolate citadel ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

Out of frame - In search of oneself…

 

Get rid of reality or its attachments, material or immaterial, moral, or social ...

Or the reason for being rid of all conscience.

Could it be an ideal, perfect place, a paradise free from all constraints ?

Or does it take to be forged, to be a constructed being ? Subject to coercion, intellectual freedom would be acquired in a closed, dictatorial process like a human society with its happy tragedies and rebirths confronted with misfortunes and sufferings ...

 

 

 

What is love ?

 

Love is an act of compassion, of giving oneself, towards others, an altruistic act, in the idea of accomplished religions.

The man can have another direction this one more phantasmagoric or biological, but, however, not without initial sense of acts of gifts or sharing or merges when it is a question of human passions.

The world is molded by this matter of cohesion or soft or violent betrayal, so man and its contradictions have been made since the dawn of time since man is man. It is its tragic part or that of shared happiness.

The act of love is human that we also share with animals in a less instinctive way by the laws of naturalness.

Love, we have made it a philosophy, literature, is it an invention of man ?

Is there this thing we call Love ?

Man has made it a religion, a dogma.

Man in t betrays this thing ? The has he perverted forever ?

Before Adam and Eve ? A love story…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The right to happiness

 

Are we all entitled to happiness or its virtues that a thousand riches could not acquire by the fact of money?

This inconsistent one would overtake us and we would misunderstand its value after it would no longer function, by default.

It is then that it would take on its full value, its perception will be felt furtive, elusive, without contractual acquisition, non-negotiable, immaterial, unpredictable.

This longed-for things, sated with fury, irresistible envy.

So as happiness knows how to wait and give its benefits, to who knows how to deserve it, desire it, initiate it towards others and inevitably or finality towards you ...

Fruit of a long matured orchard ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The sex of angels or do angels have a sex

 

The things of the mind have no sex even if it came out of a male or female brain.

The angel to be neutral in the accepted color is of a virginal spotted white in the popular accepted spirit.

However should we think that the angels have sex and would have de facto a particular sensitivity and particular gifts? That the man or the woman could intrinsically admit a rank of holiness in spite of their faults and differences by taking into account the sex.

Or in absolute terms a saint in holiness would be obsequious by nature and thus lose their statue of men or women, the criterion not being determining.

The Christian religion does not accept what is of the order of sex, or takes refuge in ignorance, or the refusal of this state, while considering as the act of procreating a child, " The Child of Jesus " as a divine posture…

All this would then be the order or the business of the divine.

The effect of man would not be determining creation is the domain of the heavens, of the divine creator without him man would not be and even to justify the place of man he would be in the mysteries of God, he alone judge of his creature, Man or Woman…

Angels would be excluded from it, their imperfect nature would not be called into question, being par excellence the servants of the divine eternally, the sex affair here no longer being in the world of the living and their subjugation to it, doing more function, or work of biological utilities of a living species.

Thus raised in the spheres of the divine protector ...

 

 

 

Women

 

Your sweetness characterizes you, you have the intelligence of the heart.

Being in complicity, a sensitive fragility, you are looking for the man who will love you, understand you.

Your instinct guides you, waiting, ready to receive, your sensitive emotional complicity is of real human wealth, you are a woman…

Women to be sharing, you love tenderly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Françoise Blanc Dupasquier

Woman painter

 

Exceptional artists, attentive teacher, I have your happy memory.

 

Your works, an ode to life, follow you, fortunately, they are there, you who are no longer there, I feared this dreadful moment, hoped it was not ...

 

 

 

 

Up to the sublime

 

The beauty of life is poetic.

The real escapes us and emerges a poetic vision to who knows how to look. It is a light sensation which, on the contrary, stands out from the harshness, from the violence of reality, from its immediacy.

Only the human mind goes further than the real.

Poetry is our share of innocence, our share of childhood rediscovered.

The simple things in life reconcile us with us, our sensitive being, the poetic gaze and our dear moment, our unknown part, of innocence to be tamed, double our mirror.

 

The poetic instant and this part of humanity that we all have in ourselves, we are from all horizons, man or woman combined, without distinction.

 

Poetry is a common language without borders. Art is its jewel.

Poetry is a sublimated sense of being which confines to the divine, to the purity of the senses, an elevation of being and of spirit.

Beauty is in us, in all things, the poetic horizons are revealed to us, they have the color of our innocence rediscovered, with intense gouache blues by Dufy.

Poetry and beauty are at the sublime of life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The inner enemy

 

Man, our societies, humanity is complex, filled with paradoxes with the positive part, which reconciles with our humanity, ourselves and its harmful, ever-destructive drifts.

 

In troubled times past, occupied by invaders, declared enemies, victor of the moment, reigns supreme over Europe and minds, deadly ideology, with its crimes of all kinds ...

 

We even reached by contagious ideas and reigning power, had our inner enemy more insidious still, more contagious and nauseating than our occupier of the time, totalitarian with the badge of death.

 

This internal enemy also mostly comes from us, except in the eyes of those who joined the resistance or its maquis ...

 

Today, the internal enemy is there in various forms and political, economic or global powers ...

 

Humanity does not assume its deadly share for itself, and its world.

 

There is an incessant battle of opposing forces, positive and negative part of our humanity, the abyss is even more dizzying for its ravages still for our humanity.

 

The internal enemy is close to us and in us contaminated. Society is given up to its strengths, economic and political, disguises society, incessant combat between beings where everyone seeks their share of protection ...

 

A woman to love

 

The softness of her hair, her innocence, her tranquility, her loving look.

A being to love tenderly, passionately.

The woman is attentive, sensitive, generous with her passions and desires.

Woman be of love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ecology ? Or life or man taken madly,

Empowered , the voi e no return ... and we ?

 

Cradle of humanity, living beings, plants and animals, our equals in life rights…

The super-predator man, at the height of civilizations, out of control, without any limit, no ... Unreasonable for life ...

Century at the edge of a " new era ,” supra-technological and that of programmed total destruction, without return, neither for humanity nor for our world with irreversible annihilation for the diversity of life, this without any measure, no ... Unpublished in the history of our planet ... ???

Nature will take revenge !!! Human reason has crossed the red line or human reason that panics, the next future is dead ... for us ... and life ...

 

Man alone will be the only species to have programmed total annihilation, global warming being a tiny irreversible dramatic consequence of man's actions ... and he alone is the only fatal responsible ...

 

The annihilation of all forms of life, total on Earth, this in a frenzied mad rhythm, blinded by our self-centeredness, our individualism, our thinking with rationalist tastes, unreasonable for what must be essential, life ...

 

Nature, life becomes a good, a possible commodity negotiable at a high price or the planned murder, total genocide of life on Earth, of our planet, of our heritage of life ?

 

Humanity, life on credit, with short-term financial aims or the paradox, life in the short term, with exponential unreasonable profits, man or unreasonable unreason, death on credit, the end of a lush world of diversity, beauty and life.

Ugliness, deadly blind financial power, curses, death is the evils of our humanity ending in decadent reason with crazy financial aims and of all irresistible powers without limits ... None ...

 

A burst of man, of humanity, of consciousness ??? Quick…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The part of the dream or

the genius of the artist.

 

The dream, genius of artists, painters, Balthus, Dufy and many others, Matisse…

Have their share of dreams.

The pastel colors of Balthus illustrate a still life or a landscape, with casein, the artist's favorite medium, in evanescent soft colors, which irradiate the colors in a light complex multiple gradation, which gently accompanies you towards this reverie between visions spooky and reality, like a light breath of a breeze at the seaside.

Time is suspended there, immortalized, timeless, a window open to other horizons, to infinity, the distant, vast stranger immersed there, alone in this sweet reverie, you abandoned yourself.

Like the spirit of the work put in place, in a subtle and very elaborate composition by Balthus, a new world opens up to you ...

A sensitive perception of the play of colors is set up, the dream is there, the genius of the artist does his work, everything is said ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dream poetry

 

A kaleidoscope of colors, with poetic reveries, enchants you, the sweetness of the soul, of the poet transports you.

Starry evening light, with a thousand facets, shines on the horizon.

The night accompanies you, dresses you in its enveloping softness.

The poet's reverie, colorful and sensitive, is a star that lights up in the sky.

The poet's star in the heavens radiates hotly.

She is there, benevolent and warm, good spirit, like a fairy of wonders.

Such is the soul of the poet, in the azure blue of the starry sky.

Or his spirit travels at the whim of the dawn all up there, with vast golden horizons, where only the free spirits of beauties in the search, of a found innocence, poetry and dreams roam.

The dreamed, unsuspected world of pure souls, or the soul of the poet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next day ...

 

Life at all costs ...

One day from another world, life stops on the clock of time ....

The announced end where everything stopped, suddenly.

The new time has arrived, death is on the prowl, lurking sneakily, you don't know where, invisible enemy…

The most fragile or those exposed are struck with a mysterious lightning agony, a terrible evil, a curse announced, our civilization is deadly, struck down like the colossus of Rhodes with clay feet, broken, our societies are hit very hard …

End of civilizations with unrestrained globalized tense flows, blind ..., overcome by fatality with plagues with deadly deaf noises, dying, men ... With futile vanities, it is a warning of destiny, of the ancient disappeared ...

Or will come a new day which will succeed the next day ... from devastation, from the desolation of our lives, from terrible death ...

And after what? One day of our lives hanging there, shrouded in straw… fragile.

To the strange dream, returned alive from a supernatural world, from the beyond, where men are nothing more than shadows in the sinister darkness.

There apparently looking dead among the dead, on the other side of the world of men, no one speaks, they wander there ... There the fear in the belly among his family may have disappeared from the living, here with them, haggard, or the words are powerless, a silence from elsewhere, from another world, where words no longer mean anything ... emptied, destroyed.

The deadly silence, black dream, or the suffering humanity, terrified, the cry of the men swept away, swept away by the waves, the distant darkness, my dying soul, deaf from the screeching screams of immense recumbent and dying populations, haunting you, you tyrannized, lurking there, helpless, in the midst of the sinister black nightmare ...

Returned there from the dead, breathless .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The preciousness of the time of the marquises or the time of the precious, Madame de La Pommeraye, Monsieur le Marquis des Arcis and Mademoiselle…

 

 

This fabulous 18th century for its taste and language.

This time wigs, powders, and silk stockings from the gentlemen or Rousseau and to the revolutionaries, enlightened minds of those times of lights or our thinkers of our modernity.

The French spirit of the lights, or the soul elevated to the sublime of the beauty of the time lost to our cold modernity is wild.

Taste for letters, music, opera, innovative human ideas, all done from this forgotten era, a time in the past, with the refined subtleties of the spirits of seductive adventurers experienced in all pleasures such as Casanova and Don Giovanni of the disproportionate extravagant divine Mozart.

 

The Marquis : " The sun is so tender ... Taste the friendship ... "

La Marquise to her friend : " Opulence invites sin ... "

" Love is an offense to those who lack it ... "

La Marquise to her friend : " Because of my happiness, I do not want to conceal from my soul the misfortunes that torment our world ... "

The Marquise to the Marquis : " Have you ever observed that love grows when the object of our wishes escapes us ? "

The Marquis : " I have nothing to do with all these souls who are born to die well ... "

La Marquise to her friend : " I see in me only the feminine gender and in him the masculine gender ... "

The Marquise to her friend : " Open my eyes, my friend, to mankind, only pain can help the mind to recover from its errors ... Yes, I want to enlighten its mind ..."

The Marquise to the Marquis : "One must always love too much than the other not enough ... Nature does not like equality, it likes to bother us, it is always necessary that one likes more , the other like less in all subjects and all subjects ... even that of pleasure. "

The Marquis : " I do not know what I will say, I do not know what I will do, but you have everything to fear in the state of violence in which I am ... "

The Marquis : "Why me? No, see you cheating? The philosophy of all his libertines ... It would make man happier ...

Well, yes, pleasure, the quest for pleasure and the source of all our torments, libertines are children, who seek immediate satisfaction, less for a moment of pleasure, how many tears and cries… ”

The Marquise : "Eternally inconsistent, right? Eternally sad, eternally lost by desire… ”

Madame de Joncquières : "If the search for the sublime were a passion, what should we fight? "

Le Marquis : “Everything that is sublime is close to our creator. The sublime is not a passion, it is an emotion, an emotion which crosses our soul, and which in the space of an instant, makes you dizzy, brings you closer to the unspeakable truth… ”

Madame de Joncquières : "Do you hear all the subtleties of divine love as if you only had the scriptures for all foods?" "

The Marquis of Mademoiselle : "Mademoiselle understand that souls who are interested in the sublime are the most beautiful ..."

The Marquis à la Marquise : "I have to have this girl or perish her ..."

La Marquise : "I advise you to chase this idea ..."

The Marquis : "Never has a face inspired me with such kindness ..."

The Marquis à la Marquise : "Madame Pardon, I beg you?" "

La Marquise : "Do you have to become the persecutor because this girl is beautiful and wants to remain virtuous?" Where did I deserve to be your accomplice? Come on Marquis, throw yourself at my feet and ask forgiveness! And preach to let my sad friends rest! "

The Marquis : "Sorry! A thousand pardons, help me, I beg you. Love is a plague, change your nature, I must have this girl, Madam, I must have her, see what I have become? Please, help your friend! "

La Marquise : " I already told you, there is nothing to do ! Forget it ! "

The Marquis of Mademoiselle : "Do ! May God make us see again very quickly… ”

The friend of the Marquise in the Marquise : "Marquise you made this man crazy ! You can now congratulate yourself on your revenge ! "

La Marquise : "To congratulate me now so close to my goal ?" "

The friend of the Marquise in the Marquise : "What more do you want ?" Beware ! Enjoy this victory over the Marquis, believe me ! How many kings have perished from too much insurance! "

The Marquise : "Madam, I am already dead that fear more ? "

The Marquis : "I am determined, the highest stupidity and that a man of my age and my condition and my condition, can do ... Madam, I marry! "

La Marquise : "Consider that the attractions of this young woman will fade ..."

The Marquis à la Marquise : "Would like to tear this unhappy passion from my heart, but for that, I will have to tear my heart. " Madame de Joncquières to Mademoiselle her daughter : "All marriage is an arrangement ... It has arrangements which over time give rise to feelings ... " Mademoiselle au Marquis : “My destiny would no longer be painful. If it is cruel to deceive an innocent man, then no more to deceive a man you love ... Can you love someone and lie to them ? "

La Marquise : "It would therefore seem that purity is contagious ... "

La Marquise : "You see nothing beyond the veil that separates us from pain ... "

La Marquise : " If all women acted, the honor of being a woman would be increased ... "

From the courtiers to the Marquis : “ Rediscover the radiance of your lightness ! "

Mademoiselle au Marquis : "No sir, I can't ... "

Miss : "I will only be really free when you can judge my behavior ... only when you can read in my heart and see how much I hate lies ... I will be free, the day you see how much my faults are far from me… "

The Marquis of Mademoiselle : " Madam, I believe you sincere ... "

Miss : "Your happiness is not lost, you can forget me ! "

The Marquis of Mademoiselle : "Madam, I have forgiven you, I told you, I believe you don't believe it, Madam, Madam, I beg you, Madame La Marquise, come on, Madame get up, Madame des Arcis. »

La Marquise to her friend : "My heart is at peace ... "

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Love Kennedy, strength, violence and fury…

The destiny of the Kennedy, Myth, the broken destiny of America or the gift of the Kennedy…

 

 

America, country of modern democracy, Lincoln, Roosevelt, Kennedy, Trump ...

The casualness, the Kennedy family perversion, the revenge Nixon ...

Roosevelt the unloved, the New Deal ... innovative idea then ...

Joseph, the ambassador died in 1969, the end of the Klan Kennedy, Ted beaten by Carter… End of the political hope of the family, and the beginning of the family rivalries of the Kennedy, brothers, cousins, David, heroin, LSD, Rose Mary sacrificed to conservatism and prevailing conventions of the time ...

Boby disappointed hope of the family, of the continuity of John… Jacqui widow, Ethel’s widow before the story of the fate of America to his American dream and its modernity of the time…

The history of America is written in blood ... Violence and fury ... The flesh of the Kennedy ... The Kennedy cannot be happy, or the happy despair of the Kennedy ...

 

Franck Sinatra, Las Vegas, enemies of the Kennedys ... Las Vegas, the Glory of Casinos and Crime Money ... or Trump, the billionaire heir to Casinos ... The Anti-Roosevelt of the New Deal ...

 

Mon Amour Kennedy, from America's lunar program, a step for humanity, social progress and its new ideas of the time; anti-conformism in the face of a very conservative excess, unequal society ... of men, of the social, of rights ... Or Boby the fallen reformer, ahead of his time, the man to be killed ... murdered ... His Brother John the first… or the gift of the Kennedy, go ahead, never back down in the face of difficulty, in the face of the curse of America, of the Kennedy…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Politeness of the Cat

 

The cat-man, the booted cat, half-man, half- animal, the poet is a cat endowed with a pictorial language with a refined taste… The superfluous, the unimaginable, a light cloud with pink poetry floats in the air, vaporous, with fluffy flakes, Sau powder refreshing poetry, relieves the ambient heaviness, beings with empty spirits ...

 

Politeness is a delicate taste in the shadows ... The cat with its instinctive ways gifted with its congeners to return politeness to you, its mustaches of cat master, snobbery of being, it listens, extrapolates, meows to who knows how to hear, reflected on its tricks… Man being clumsy with dull senses, the talkative cat of spirit on r easily passes our clumsy mediocrity…

 

The poetry of the cat, enigmatic speech to humans, swaying verbs which come and go in balance and suppleness, with the slender body of the feline, with sharp claws, roars in the reckless, meows with pleasure in its idle hours.

 

Cat, the life of the cat, with multiplied lives, competes with us, advances to deafened masked steps, all in lightness, to blow you in the hollow of the ears the words, the poetics of the cat, chiseled poetry, goldsmith in the matter, master craftsman, you whisper a sweet melody, with subtle chords, perfect harmonies, elevate the poetic sense, with a bluish pastel note tinged with a light pink ... Cat harmony, Gifted cats, Poetic cats ...

 

 

 

 

Christopher vs. Enigma, the digital calculator -

 The unloved Allan Turing

 

Enigma the Nazi Code and the success of a man, a new calculator or blood-soaked calculus ...

 

Allan Turing, the paradox of intelligence, the machine-made man. The superior achievement of the intelligence of machine encryption in the service of the worst, of Nazi or Enigma horror ...

 

Only the intelligence of man or the destiny of a man can outwit barbarism or perform miracles, accomplish the unimaginable, the impossible. Alone against all ...

 

The human mind is an enigma in itself, which is limitless, beyond the common ... of ordinary man.

 

The different spirit of the machine or a nonhuman, synthetic thought, the game of imitation, a test, man or machine, like to solve problems, the most difficult enigma in the world, the hand of death ...

 

"I think sometimes it's the people you can imagine capable of doing nothing that no one has imagined ..."

 

Christopher the Calculator, the creation of Turing, bloodstained calculus, helped victories, people knew it, freedom against tyranny, at the end of the end of the war, sweep the ashes, erase all, people shouldn't know…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Matrix, Leo, the evil fighter

 

 

The relentless fight face to face, in direct opposition to evil, against human genius, all of humanity facing the illusion of the matrix, evil facing reality, the truth liberating from evil.

 

The opposition between the architect, the matrix, and the oracle, the hope of humanity, of the peace of machines.

 

The Oracle hope of a human who has faith in the human being in the face of machines, in the face of the evil of humans.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Walt Disney, art in motion, the miracle of the mind

or Disney, a new America dreamed of…

 

 

The creation of the human mind, the imagination or art set in motion.

 

The search for perfection, the creative spirit, an obsession of a man of a "project" in the service, of an artistic vision, of studios, of a work, realizing new ideas ...

 

Arthur Harold Babitsky says "Art Babbitt,” important animator

 of Disney, who created many characters like the famous "Goofy" ...

 

In Burbank, studios resembling a multinational, Babbit launched the strike movement through the Screen Cartoonists’ Guild (animators' union), the animators want their independence from Walt… So Disney Utopia, dear to Walt is a breeze, his passion, his creation is rebellious…

 

Broken utopia, he stands ready to move forward.

 

Great innovators of the magic of his imaginary world, cutesy and in hatred for certain, he has the brilliant idea, like the thinker of America, of the taste of the average American, he creates the first amusement park in California , Disneyland or Disneyland Park in the city of Anaheim, named the "enchanted kingdom" produced and imagined according to the unique will of Walt, inaugurated on July 17, 1955.

 

Then came the dawn of his life fighting disease, proposing his new EPCOT (Experimental Project Community of Tomorrow) project wanted by Walt as an experimental prototype of a community of the future. The innovative idea of his vision was explained by Walt in October 1966 by a film called EPCOT.

Located in Orlando, a project dear to Walt, it was the culmination of his dream, faithful to "the visionary spirit of Walt Disney", of American society according to his vision, his principles of the American ideal, of a community, its social, moral, aesthetic and also family values, of a futuristic society according to the criteria of the time, completely over today ...

 

Walt died shortly before the inauguration of the beginning of the first theme park, the Magic Kingdom, then came the realization of the city, an educational project like the EPCOT Educationnal Media Collection series.

 

Initially the project wanted to be an international exhibition area which had to be permanently placed in the middle of the city thought by Walt and the "enchanted kingdom" one of the first theme parks that was created ...

 

A certain dream, Walt's ideas of innovations or the magical dream of a certain America ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Free, Freedom

 

Man of all conditions, freedom is priceless.

Let's break our chains, physical, mental or social.

Man of all conditions brandishes the arm of freedom, modern man we have other tyrannies, which imprison us, forbids us.

See what prevents us, breaks us, enslaves us.

Life obliges us, the revolt or the poetic revolution and the only fight which prevails in the face of the injunctions of life, powers which enslave us, blind us, monetize our existence, to the point of all sacrificing, life, living beings, our future in the seriously degraded, moribund environment, we have sacrificed our soul, forgetting the divine, or the spirit of the divine, the essence of our nature…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tatischeff or Jaques Tati -

The Illusionist, animated film, gives way to drawing,

  to the visual imagination, a magician

 

Sylvain CHOMET produced and presented at the Berlin Festival in 2010 a world teeming with the imagery of drawing, colors ...

 

Seriousness in the service of picturesque, grotesque, poetry.

 

A rich and refined design in its style, towards life in the service of art, London, English chic in addition ...

 

Fashion à la Tati without dialogue, just emotion and a touch of originality all in intelligence and sensitivity ... With an appearance of a short passage by Jacques Tati in homage to the man and his work ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

The lightness of being, the Romantic life
or the choice of art ...

 

The lightness of being, the Romantic life or the choice of art ...

 

The free spirits with the lightness of being is a desire for romanticism, to detach themselves from the daily life of each one, in search of an interior richness, of a state of mind where art invites itself to the beauty of the world.

 

All beauty is the aesthetic research, from the spirit of the art, to the glory of an idealized romanticism ...

 

Life or making the choice of art, for an elsewhere, for a better, beauty and grace, to embellish one's life. The ideal art or life, the beauty is within you…

 

A bias for the best, the spirit of lightness ...

 

Or poetry for life ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The "color of disability" -

Brutal Violence or Injury

 

 

Societal violence - The “color of disability,” new gratuitous racism or contempt, with the hints of anti-Semitism of a new order world ...

The handicap that sticks to your skin, a distinctive indelible tattoo, an open wound.

The difference or assets vis-à-vis others, the handicap, additional capacities, a strength, a constantly developed force of renewal, the exception which can lift you to heights intellectually, vital, a breath of higher life, or a being revitalized internally ...

The mark of contempt, gratuitous violence, displayed unceasingly, like a warning, enslavement, a new modern slavery in the color of the handicap, status; social, professional.

A new standard of our time, supposedly peaceful, civilized, manifest lack of equality, under duress, a reminder of a new order ...

The word handicap relating to other troubled times, with the effigy of the yellow mark, star of suffering-made man, in a time of our painful history, that of the occupation, of a new established order.

Be careful that disability becomes a territory where people are not stigmatized, differentiate, subclassified, underpaid, under ..., a restricted humanity, a subclass of man and woman where the law of ignominy reins in good form, controlled, overpowered, or the diet of shame.

So what could be a new chance for the society of men and women, of a society with egalitarian accents, where there will be positive discrimination this time around.

A difference, another point of view, a strong point, an additional capacity, a positive quality, a 6th sense of diversity, a reconciliation of the human, a new humanism ...

A new social pact, a new impetus for a fairer and better world in favor of accomplished diversity ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Arcadia seen by Poussin or the myth of the Greek philosophers seen by the master of Classicism ...

 

Arcadia, myth of antiquity taken up by painters of the 17th century, Arcadia represents the "golden age" or the original state of nature of man or the representation of the beginning of civilization or Adam and Eve....

 

Arcadia is the lost paradise of man or the idea of a preserved world, an original nature made for man ... The 17th century under the aegis of the painting movement of classicism current pillars for painting European ... represented at the time by the painter Poussin who, in order to find the original country, which left the intrigues of the court in Paris for Rome, a source of inspiration and important contemplation for Poussin. Rome where he found support from important patrons at the time and found a rich clientele of connoisseurs ...

 

He who began painting late and abandoned by the court in Paris who tried to regain the power of French cultural attraction influenced by the King, asked that Poussin return to his lands in Paris and pretended to return then under the pretext of joining his wife remained in Rome where he had a great influence and recognition and became the master of French Classicism in Rome ...

 

His painting was decried by the critics of the time, frozen painting, taste for antiquity or ancient Romanity, but on the contrary his painting and painting intellectualized and tends towards philosophy, with refined taste, in the spirit of nobility, of great sensitivity and a marked philosophical spirit ...

 

It is a thought, philosophical painting ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I cultivate my romantic soul

 

Art, poetry in all things allows you to elevate your romantic soul.

 

Cultivate one's romanticism towards the beauty of the soul, a total poetry, the human soul in search of the imperceptible beauty, poetry towards the love of the romantic or the art of the divine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Re - enchanted the world or ecology -

"Refocus humanity" for a recreation of a "Wild Nature."

 

50%, half of the earth's surface for the preservation of biodiversity -

"Re - savage the Planet"

 

The Project to devote half of the earth's surface to the preservation of biodiversity or " Deep Ecology" ;

 

The 6th massive extinction of species is now underway… ” ;

 

“Our house is on fire and we are looking elsewhere, Cruel Truth! » - Jacques CHIRAC ;

 

Edward Osborne Wilson - World stars of natural sciences, defenders of the idea that humans are linked to other species ( Biophilia ) - The author of: "Half the earth: our planet fights to live" - Edward Osborne Wilson .

 

 

Re - inventing nature, recreating wild nature, from our controlled domesticated spaces, rewarding our natural spaces, here is a new idea, of a new path of new ecology, new experiences in the Netherlands… In England (the deadly Landes or landscapes have been transformed by man reduced in biological diversity, biologically impoverished ) , recreates an ecosystem with in the end, reintroducing the laws of nature, ecological predators, such as the wolf and raptors, biological cleaners and ecological regulator, of a recycled nature, rebalance the laws of the natural cycle, ecological life, a wild, natural nature with the contradiction that man may be a factor in a reintroduction of wildlife.

 

Ethical challenge and not only; save global biodiversity, "Deep Ecology" was intended initiative to promote the protection and restoration of habitus on a continental scale and ecological corridors to ensure wildlife. The idea of a half-earth to reward , the 50% solution (Reed NOSS, Allen COOPERRIDER, Authors of " Saving Nature's Legacy " - 1994) to preserve ecosystems between 30% and 70% of the terrestrial habitat is a necessity, the 50% solution… Half of the earth's surface for the preservation of biodiversity.

 

The supporters of the deep ecology movement are not anti-human, as is sometimes claimed. Supporters of the deep ecology movement deplore anti-human statements and actions.

 

For an ethical solution, the project for humanity to refocus ... The re-savage project is a commitment for a capital moral dimension for humanity to develop an ethic concerned with life on Earth, by refocusing humanity towards an idea of the laws of nature which places species other than the bias of "homo sapiens" who only care about their desires and needs for their only species, their desires above the good -being of all the other species to the detriment of a     preserved biodiversity, of a balance of the laws of nature, of life, of naturalness… of the original creation… Is it possible to develop common understandings that allow us to work with civility towards harmony with other creatures and beings ?

 

Abba Eban , Israel's foreign minister during the 1968 war with Egypt, in the midst of all this madness he said: “When all else fails, men turn to reason. " When everything will continue to fail, when we are covered by water, when the number of species drops to the point of no longer being ignored, when we see how much we are destabilizing the world, then "men will turn to reason. . " "Man has a mission to stop destroying and ensure that biodiversity is restored on earth, otherwise the future of life is jeopardized, not only for the species, but also for humans who are linked to biodiversity" - Edward Osborne Wilson.

 

Man or reason for our Mother Nature, our destiny for humanity reconciled with oneself and its environment and the diversity of life, of a preserved life, of a controlled law of nature, towards the spirit of the natural, of a true philosophy for the benefit of all living beings, through the recognition of the inherent value of all beings, including humans, for our planet. No philosophy or technology is applicable to the whole planet. "The more diversity the better.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The difficulty, the impossibilities of the heart,

misfortune feed the artist's work

 

The Artist reveals himself in his misfortunes and surpasses himself in happiness, the lightness of being, the sensitive life, the heart is the work of everything. The poetry of feeling guides the artist, nourishes his creations, creates his pantheon to the glory of love.

 

Loves disappointed, its creator, inspires the artist, the poet, dreams of the unimaginable reality, that of the heart, life and love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In Wilmington, HOPE, "the American dream,” for the soul of America or the wings of Angels ...

 

 

In Wilmington, a hope was born for all Americans, to keep everyone on the path, heal, of the Americans, of America ...

 

A promise from Joe, unite, mend social relations, COVID, a tribute to democracy, America is the beacon in the eyes of the world.

 

Reconciliation for all Americans, reconciling the American dream, the land of all possibilities ... No red and blue, but America, its people ...

 

America, a country of equal opportunities, immigration, believing in God, for a better America ...

 

The wings of the protective angels for America appease the spirits, the anger is there.

 

Joe's smile, for hope, for the people, for the environment, to unite the Americans, to show his defeats… In South Carolina during the Democratic primaries, thanks to the African Americans, to end systematic racism.

 

Making the transition for the nomination, establishes a scientific medical corps against the pandemic. Courage, resilience, life, our planet, America to send a clear message, science, freedom ...

 

The nation will find its soul. Keeping once deep in America, women of color, we sacrifice everything for justice, women are the backbone of American democracy, a new generation of women, for her, their strengths, their visions and Joe to choose , a woman for vice president, America is a country where anything is possible. Women can dream ...

 

The fight to save lives fight COVID, the crisis, save the soul of our nation. A president for all Americans.

 

The people to speak up, a victory, for the American people, a climate of hope for a better tomorrow, not division, but unite, no red and blue, gain trust, America is its people, fix it soul of America, may America be respected, this vision must come true.

 

Don't say things are not possible, America is the spearhead, for justice. A coalition of all men, America, Americans stood up, give themselves a chance, refocus, listen to each other, the bible tells us that there is a season for everything, to build, a season for the harvests, and a season of healing, it's time to heal the United States ...

Rediscover prosperity, protect our planet for the climate, a fair chance for Americans.

 

Compassion, empathy, choosing to cooperate, to cooperate, the choice of Americans.

 

The legacy of immigration, opening up the country for everyone ..., believing in a country, a new border, yes we can. Fight against despair, build a nation for prosperity, the battle for the soul of America, for the soul of our nation, the fight of dark and noble aspirations, our battle for the good sides to win ...

 

An America that never gives up, all is possible when America is united.

 

Bringing America together reconciliation, healing, an ode, a tribute to democracy, the United States can be a flame that guides the world, the American dream. The land of all possibilities ... The land of equal opportunities.

 

The belief to reconcile the Americans, to mend America, the fractures, the gaping wounds, to appease the spirits, the bitterness, the refusal of defeat, our adversaries are not our enemies, they are Americans ...

 

Lincoln, Kennedy, Obama, America’s legacy, the US ended an ugly nationalist power. Kamala HARRIS, the passions of Americans, Kamala towards the hope of a future first woman President of the United States ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My taste for things ...

 

My universe "Femininity or woman or feeling, love poems ..."

 

Artist in love with things and words, with the feeling of things, with the elusive, with the feeling of love, with people.

 

Draftsman and painter, perhaps the last romantic.

 

A romantic who loves flowery language, to achieve the poetry of feeling, the most beautiful thing is poetry, flowers testify, by their beauties and their fragrances, to seduce, a subtle poetic beauty, in the language of flowers, that of love, life, feminine perfection, grace and beauty ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The heart of a woman

 

Women to be with a sensitive heart, to the intelligence of the developed feeling and to the emotional affection, to be of passions, devourer of life or the flames of a burning heart, of passionate loves.

 

The love of a woman is an inestimable treasure to be conquered, to be pampered with care, with attentiveness and attentiveness at all times, delicate, with an assumed feminine fragility.

 

A woman's heart, fusing devouring love, with overflowing heart stirs like English roses, generous flowers with passions exalting the loving senses, the richness of the scent of the feelings of made lovers.

 

Always love, intoxicated love of hearts, passionate women, women with the sensuality of human beings and procrastination of the heart ...

 

To the unreason of passions, love, a woman and a man.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Passions of the heart, the other, the diversity of cultures, ultra-chic, supreme love ...

 

 

The love of the other, the sharing of a different culture, an additional wealth, in understanding the other with his diversity, his beliefs, his point of view on things, his sensitivity, his language, finesse of the 'spirit, its subtleties of great sensitivity, a great modernity of beings, a delicate, refined civilization, at the forefront of the distinction of elegance, taste, sophistication, ultra-chic, distinguished, d 'an aristocratic nobility.

 

The love of the loved one, the candor of the loved one, his attraction, his shared sensitivity, his taste for things and beings, his inner richness, also his doubts, life ... A point of view to share with taste and aesthetic choice assumed, the elegance of being, love, a noble feeling, tested by life and its rigors, love winning, always winning, love the supreme heritage of human beings share…

 

The ideal, beautiful thing, an old idea; transvestite, misunderstood, hated by some, encouraged by others, ideal love does not exist, love is a revealer of oneself and of others, a noble idea in perpetual confrontation at every moment, nobility comes from the heart, only this idea and only this one matters, to an intrinsic value, the rest is only duplicity, delusion of oneself and of the spirit, is the only betrayal of oneself and of others.

 

The heart or the reason, two values which can go astray, vanish, oppose ...

 

Love has only one reason, that of being loved, darling ... A strength, a way to go, that of the heart, the illuminated horizon, and joyful, the smiling future faces you, fainting doubt, uncertainties, win the heart, win love. Valiant heart to who knows how to take. Women of accomplishment, maternal, loving, with passionate love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the King's garden,

Versaillaise love

 

Versailles love, the poetry of love, the art of feeling in love, fallen lovers, such as Marie-Antoinette's thwarted love affair with the Comte de Fersen at Trianon, places of all tastes and pleasures.

 

Versailles on the day of the magnificence of a golden era, places of all possibilities, tragic heroes, the theater of the lives of people of the nobility, to the precious refined tastes of the court.

 

We loved each other in the King's Garden, places of all romanticism, of all hopes, romantic life begins there, places of all desires, and especially those of the king of the great century in the effigy of his royal excess. Places of the arts, of all the arts and loves, of embodied poetry, jewels, by the richness of its groves and gardens, of domesticated nature, places of all the powers embodied by the numerous sculptures, places of personalization of royal desire, from the monarchy, from total absolutism, its setting the Royal opera, represented by Lully’s king of the lyrical arts and of faith, to sacred music at the unique service of a person, God here below among metamorphosed men, the sacred major art like "miserere mei Deus,” stylistic perfection created for a man, His Majesty the King of France. The obscurantism of power, its darkness and its deified royal brilliance, illuminating the universe, the god of the Sun, shines in all points, in all places ... No one should forget it.

 

 

In the King's garden, loves are born, a loving woman with a pure heart and radiant feelings, sublime love, unconditional love, the radiance of her youth with a complexion magnified with freshness, going to delight, perfect love. Women in love, being of love, gentleness and tenderness of feelings, enlighten the world, the world of a unique love, fallen by the laws of life, its intransigence, its betrayals, the course of life and its rigors, poetry is there, saving, reincarnates beings, at the heart of these, immortal love, pure hearts are united forever in eternal time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Eyes of Love, Pearl of Love

 

 

Your dreamy eyes, or the deep immensity of the ocean, touches the heart.

 

You are my treasure, my jewel, my love pearl, my oriental pearl, make hearts sing.

 

Your ocean eyes overwhelm me, touches my spirit and the passion of the heart, reasons love, tenderness, gentleness, a very sensual feminine sensitivity, with the scent of love, my heart, my love.

 

Life speaks to you of love, the heart of its reason, the tenderness of a woman is an invaluable treasure, her love is a flourishing garden of a thousand colors and bewitching scents that delight the heart and mind.

 

Woman divine creation, the fulfillment of the beauty and the feeling of the heart, all in sensitivity, passion, love, tears, and laughter ... Passion love ...

 

Woman sweetness of soul and heart, universe of king love, you, my love, I love you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    

The poetic elegance of love,

Galland’s love at the gates of romanticism

 

The amorous dream of Fragonard "the painter in love with beauty," guided by F. Boucher, "My dear Frago, you are going to see in Rome, Michelangelo, Raphaëlle, I tell you in confidence and very low ... If you take these people seriously, you are a lost man ... "

 

The amorous discourse, the melancholy and dreamy spirit, love, my dear Frago, attentive pupil of Chardin and especially later of F. Boucher, Fragonard or the master of the elegance of the poetry of love at the French ...

 

French genius announced at the Royal Academy, he gives up for his more pronounced personal taste and his clientele at the expense of a career at the academy, recognized by the King.

 

Author of the famous paintings "Psyche showing her sisters the gifts of love"; "The escarpolette"; "The moment you want"; "The Lost Stake or The One Kiss"; " The lock " ; "The celebration in the park of Saint-Cloud.”

 

Galland’s love or sincere love, a strong subject at the start of his career like F. Boucher, heir to the 17th century, playful Galland love, all in discretion, sensual amorous feeling, in the Utopian Bergé wrapped in a dreamed Arcadia with shampooed sheep, faithful, sincere love, with the sophistication of a civilization with the taste of precious forts in the 18th century where the sexes are equal, a revolution of ideas at that time.

 

Vivant Denon by "Point de demain", creator of the famous "Le Louvre" museum, with a philosophy of living in the moment, without worrying about the next day, this is the new ideal of this disturbing 18 centuries, with more liberated customs.

"The Happy Moment or The Useless Resistance"; "La Culbute"; " Firecrackers " ; "The jets of water"; "My shirt is burning"; "Unnecessary resistance"; "Two women on a bed playing with two dogs, or getting up,” the drawings and paintings are at the peak of her libertine spirit, of happy love ...

 

Makes place at the end of his life a change, of course, in the spirit of the time, in its evolution; "Romantic love,” which is in the dream, the feeling, at the junction of the image and its vanishing, in the night, a flash, a volatile color, the blur, on the contrary of bright color, the spirit playful of the beginnings of gallant love ...

 

He stayed in Grace, and had the Salon de la du Barry installed in his own way, he also painted in the Villa Maubert. Alexandre Maubert, a wealthy perfume merchant, once owned it. He received a visit from his cousin, the painter from Grasse Jean-Honoré Fragonard, during the revolutionary turmoil. The painter's son, Alexandre-Évariste Fragonard, decorated the staircase with paintings in shades of gray. Allegories of the young republic sit alongside ancient figures and Masonic symbols. This remarkable decor is extended in the form of an architectural trompe-l'oeil to the garden level. There he made his last paintings of his work.

Him as cantor of the pleasures of the old regime, he was not disturbed by the revolutionaries ... The protection of Fragonard by his friend David, friend of Robespierre and great helmsman of the arts, where he was able to keep his apartment in the Louvre and to also be one of its curators, in the museum that the revolution established in the palaces of fallen kings ...

 

Inventor of the sketch paints like the announced new painting of the Impressionists, he represents the French spirit, the painter in love with love, inspired the great master Renoir, was quick to flush out genius under the lightness of smiles ...

 

"Because Fragonard was laughing, we were quick to say that he was a little painter" - Auguste RENOIR

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  The other,

the other self ...

 

The other self, starting from you and another envisioned, projected consciousness of another self, of a reassessed, augmented, improved, transfigured, reinvented, reconstructed, cultivated, discovered, worked, accomplished, revolutionized self ...

 

The revolution of oneself, to imagine oneself in a different way, to complement each other, to multiply in possible conceivable ones, to multiply one's being, one's way of being, one's knowledge, one's aptitudes, one's learning, one's constantly renewed evolution ...

 

To follow the path of oneself, to go to the end of one's possibilities, to cross new borders, another possible ”, possible, beyond oneself…

 

To increase one's fields of possibilities, to evolve in a limitless field, to explore one's inner world, in all its diversities, and areas for improvement.

 

Go towards the other self ... a self augmented by its ambitions, dreams, itself evaluated in the plural, increased tenfold ...

 

Outside the visible field, make really its potential, its perfection envisaged, calculated, premeditated, desired, verified by experience, through evaluation, success is implemented relentlessly ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me or Céline, the dark side,

the good and the bad ...

 

A great controversial writer in France, it is Ferdinand Céline Destouche or CELINE ...

 

I have a passion for the character which can be obscure at first glance, but if you scratch the varnish, it is about a man revolted by men, in the world, by the absurdity of the world and its appointments. You of history ...

 

He fell into the abyss of an important moment in the history of Europe and France in filigree, that of fear, the injustice of men, their cruelty, their stupidity, their blindness. in irreproachable justice in the eyes of a right thinking, of the march of history, while he lived, of the stories of the characters of men and their double facet, good and evil combined, he loves animals or to empathy for them, for people suffering, or left aside from the march of men, and society, their injustice that he too suffered with the greatest rigor, and violence, the violence of wars, of fallen societies, on the other hand, he draws earthy portraits of the men and women he has met in his life course, he has a ferocity in describing our world, that of men ...

 

Despite everything, with fun and humor, where the drama is cruelly taking shape, it is the objects of all these novels, which were those of his life ...

 

To become like Céline, to have her piercing eye, in the face of the cruelties of the world and its pleasures, that is my ambition, that of the thinking and philosophizing writer ... on life ...

 

My disproportionate ambition, that of a man who, pen in hand, denounces and inspires the beauty of life and its

 

 

Nice ambition, which is it, right ?

 

 

 

 

      

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"A Sunday in the Country"

or a Sunday in late summer 1912 -

The arrival of a new era of the 21st century

 

The faithful representation of the scene of a Sunday in the countryside of this period is an impressionist painting by Auguste RENOIR under the title "In the garden - under the arbor at the mill of the galette" - 1876.

 

There in a generous nature under the shade of the branches in a landscaped place, in a beautiful afternoon, with cheerful summer rays, brightens up this family gathering on summer days. A meeting with people from good families, a life without a hitch, a bourgeois life, punctuated by peaceful rituals of this tidy life, a story adapted from a novel by Pierre Bost "Monsieur Ladmiral will soon die".

French film by Bertrand TAVERNIER in the chosen period costume, a life of the 19th century with bourgeois codes of the time, a quiet life, without turmoil, everything happens here, as if nothing had to change, immutable.

 

Mr. Ladmiral is any painter with the sure taste of his time, without any real genius, lives alone with his servant. His son Gonzague is his worthy representative and is there with his whole family accompanied by his wife Marie-thérése and his three children, Emile, Lucien, Mireille. Gonzague, son of a tidy life, loving order and decorum.

 

This Sunday is present Iréne the daughter of Ladmiral, a young woman with an irreproachable toilet, is the liberated woman of this time, energetic and nonconformist, questions or upsets this gentle and peaceful ritual of this moment consecrated by the bourgeois family. And goes as far as his father to discuss the choices of his life, the artistic one, and questions his artistic path, his choices, his taste called into question by Iréne.

Everything is said there in this moment of French life of a bourgeois of the 19th, everything is in place, with the hand of time, which is no longer that of our era or of the privileged few or classes of our modern era who no longer savor the time which passes peacefully under the yoke and the threats of incessant time, to the floods of information and catastrophic news of a time which is dying and going to the announced future decline.

 

Terrible time that ours, at the gates of unthinkable technological upheaval, there is little, new energies, revolutions of information, of artificial intelligence, and there at our door the revolution of techniques of quantum physics which will change everything , our world, in depth the technological revolutions knocking on our door to capture some such as an old photo from the past decades and radically impose another world that is unknown to us, the contours of which we hardly draw and imagine…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Poetic Soul

 

His inner being, developed sensitivity, taste for things and beings with heightened poetry.

 

The culture heritage of a society, from the various eras which enrich the poetic life, to the taste of the souls of beings, resonates this music with free accents and independent of escaped beings, where innovative spirits sharpen their senses, at all risks , with the benefits of a poetic life, of a real life, re-intellectualized, with subtle flavors, full of meaning ...

 

 

Wonderful ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  My heart of the Islands,

The exotic color of passion,

love fruit, Yasmina

 

My angel, all pure soul, sensitive heart, uplifted soul being. Your whole being is there, I see your soft and fragile soul, your immaculate face of your being breathes.

My heart of the Islands, parrots, palm trees, pineapples, papayas, guavas, prickly pears, your pirate heart, my wife with the generous color of the heart, your soft amber color in the Corsair Islands, you have boarded, accosted my heart, touched in full thousand, I won your banner.

 

Your sweetness of your enchanting voice, you are all spirit, intelligence of being, your intellect elevated in action, frankness of feelings, with strong values, your enlightening spirit.

 

Your great diversity of your being, your varied roots reason, your unique personality, your wealth, your otherness, your distinction, your strength of mind and soul, embark on a courageous heart, fine spirit with a joyful smile of the heart, independence of spirit, open the islands of your heart to those who know how to conquer you, deserve you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our time, today or life ...

 

Our time is in direct contrast to our lives as city dwellers in large metropolises or for a large part of the people do not have the comfort of mind of a few ... especially in these troubled times ... or an enlightened door opens up to us, with hoped-for hope and comfort ...

 

Life is there, strong, a state constantly in renewal, imperturbable, always there to win… Hubert REEVES famous astrophysicist states at one of his conferences on “the origin of life” cannot define what is the spark of life, it is unexplained and inexplicable now ...

 

Conversely, the cradle of life are the stars, in the Hamas galaxies which by colliding create blue matter, an oxygen molecule, the source of the life of all things ...

 

In a poetic blue halo of the play of colors, particles of life, mystery of the gods, the secret of the all-powerful being, who sows, to the poetry of the universe, life, the omnipotence of a creator god who imposes itself there, dust of divine life ...

 

The being is there, life, men, animals, plants constantly in competition, a race for life ... Man is fragile, in a fragile environment where the loss of life is incessant by human activity, which devours life, a new ogre ... or a virus causes him to tip, retreat, tremble, frighten him with his own fragility.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  Order, The Law of Silence, the Dictate ...

Total submission

 

The people on their knees, total submission, the dictate of state, appeasement by the law of fear ...

 

The emergency law, new state regime ...

 

 Law of exception, no word, no one contradicts, to impose by the disproportionate force of state, the deaf silence of the total submission, feet and hands bound, mouth gagged, bayonets with the rifles, we return in times long forgotten in the bad memory was a distant time, of a new order in Europe, where the brutal force annihilated the satiated peoples, by the object of fear, the men were no more, nothing ...

 

The total annihilation of the people’s subject, to the laws of exceptions of then to this troubled, nauseating period, where violent murder was the law, or a certain category of people had to suffer ignominy, total annihilation, deportation to the laws of the inhuman, of the crime against humanity, in the name of a superior law, of the new European order which does not speak its name !!! ...

 

Watch out for the whiff of tragically stuttering history! Doesn't that ring in your ears ? To the current nauseating events ...

 

Order and law, that of the tragic ... Poor of us, poor men and women ...

 

"The law" of men "beautiful ideas,” to that of the betrayal of peoples, to the state regime with a totalitarian stench, no word, order to silence now and childish blind obedience ... Force to the regime..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Passions and soul...

 

Beings of blood and flesh feed on passions, passions are made of men, life feeds beings with the flame of life, nourishes the fire of beings.

 

Music is passion, the arts are supports filled with our happiness, our joys, hatred, our anger, life is a mixture of feelings, our being is sensitive, and complex, exacerbated by our passions, life is filled with the salt of a gentle violence, of our moods ...

 

The soul is pure, does not compromise, our unconscious is loaded with it, our will is governed in depth by our unconscious, which governs our choices and desire, we are prisoners of ourselves, of our inner being, of its intransigence. ...

 

Governs our whole heart, our loves, we are only the reflection of this unknown world, which is our unconscious, is not released with difficulty totally prevented by our awakening consciousness ...

 

The soul is a complex universe of our being, an unfathomable universe, where only a few exceptional people are listening to their soul, to the torment of their minds awakening to capacities like no other, which have probed their depths of their soul and their unconscious, not without pain or violence, resist the depths of an ancestral fear, uncontrollable, of an extreme intensity. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I stole your heart ...

 

I stole your heart...

 

Yes, my love, sensitive heart, you are loved.

 

My love, I have stolen your heart, a sensitive soul with a generous heart filled with love.

 

My beloved, I stole your heart, lyric symphony, you radiate, your sensitive heart is beauty, all in femininity.

 

Sensitive heart, beautiful soul, pure heart, you fill my life.

 

Your joy, your emotions, is a beautiful woman's love.

 

Your being shines, free and without far, you live your desires to live, cries of love.

 

Sweet soul, you whisper, I listen to you, the melody of the heart, you breathe.

 

Your heart is a butterfly of a thousand colors which flies in the wind.

 

Clings to the flowers of love, to the intoxicating pollen of a cornflower rose, to the precious nectar.

 

 

Pearl of love, forever love, I stole your heart forever ... my love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Today and ancient Rome -

Maximus, the gladiator, the warrior ...

 

The film ... This for all Roman citizens ... And maybe we too ...

 

And also like the reflection of a mirror of truth, to us contemporaries of our sophisticated, technological times and to the various human societies of our world ... To gladiators who challenge the great emperor himself in the arena ...

 

Marcus Aurelius (Marcus Aurelius) Friend and spiritual father of Maximus.

Roman emperors and philosopher, his reign saw the greatness of Rome spread thanks to the various wars. He died of suffocation by his son, Commodus, when he wanted to return power to the Senate so that Rome could once again become a republic:

 

“Your faults as a son are my faults as a father. "

 

The Father Emperor: "Death smiles at all of us, all we can do is smile at death ..."

 

Gracchus senator (Intriguing like all senators and conspiring more particularly with Lucillia), he is one of those who oppose the authority of Commodus the most:

 

“I don't pretend to be a man of the people, I try to be a man for the people. "

 

Hagen (German Colossus serving as an instructor to new slaves including Maximus and Juba) of Proximo, who intends them to become gladiators like their brother in arms. Becoming the friend of Maximus and Juba, he is a warrior at heart who is not afraid of death and demonstrates a great sense of humor in the face of their condition:

 

“We will await your return, Maximus. "

 

Maximus to Quintus: "Senator Gracchus, he had a dream called Rome, it must be realized ... According to the wishes of Marcus Aurelius"

Lucillia - Lucilla (Daughter of Emperor Marcus Aurelius and sister of Commodus) :

"Marc Aurèle is found… You are at home…"

 

"Is Rome worth the life of a good man? ...

We once believed it ... We have to believe it again ...

He was a soldier of Rome… Honored the… ”

 

Right after Maximus’s violent death in the arena, Juba the Gladiator (Numidian hunter kidnapped from his tribe by slave traders like Maximus) Maximus heroes of history, Juba the Gladiator said:

 

 

"Now we are free, and we revere each other ... But not yet, not yet ..."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I chose poetry at war… Dare to say no…!

With revolutionary ideas

of Sir Voltaire and Rousseau ...

 

 

To me Voltaire François-Marie and Rousseau Jean-Jacques, free thinkers, dare to say no…!

 

Thought, poetry stronger than anything by their virtues alone ... than the authoritarian injunctions of our world, stupidity, ugliness, greed, pollution, destruction ... without limits reign over our world or the law of the powerful , predators ...

 

Dare to say no…! Dare for us and our world in becoming uncertain on the brink ... No, to save us, though, poetry as the only weapons in the face of brutality and ignorance ...

 

The stupid blindness of our time, of our technologies which blinds us dangerously at the expense of a single true common sense which reasons justly, say no ...! Dare to assert it at the highest!

 

Injustice, the destruction of our environment, the authoritarian voices of these immediate nauseating times of order at all costs, not to impose the force of state ... the emergency laws for all alone answer, confiscation of freedoms, simulacrum democracy, such as Scapin's tricks or the theater of freedoms, a fool's game of our faltering democracies, the extinction of thought ...

 

Free thought and poetry to say no ... Stronger by intelligence of the mind ... or the thought of criticism, criticism by the sheer force of words ...

 

Rousseau J.-J. or "the social contract" or by the spirit of Rousseau, the beginning of the thought of democratic ideas or those of revolutionary ideas for the emergence of a new society with more just ideals for men ...

 

Voltaire, the Liberal with new ideas, wants to reform, transform, the society of his time. The French Revolution saw in him, as in Rousseau, a precursor ...

 

And one fine day in 1789 born, the French Revolution and the ideals of the times of enlightenment, the president of the constituent Mounier will again ask that Louis XVI promulgate the Declaration of the rights of man and of the citizen of 1789 and the laws of August 4 and 26 abolishing the society of orders and privileges ...

 

The beginning of the French Spirit, of libertarian ideals, of a more just society, for the liberation of men from the oppression from which they come, let us keep in mind these fundamental principles.

 

Our time enchains us and tramples underfoot, violently crushes any hint of freedom and social and human progress ...

 

When will we see a new salutary revolution in the minds and laws of a society on the march for a liberated humanity with ecology in a reconciled world

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  An encounter, revealed art,

a world apart, painting ...

A painter Laure GRAGEZ

 

 

The painting art of the sensitive, of the original meaning, a powerful emotion, an emotion of beauty, of the living ...

 

Art is an intense emotional charge, art is an essence of the deepest human.

 

Art is the most perfectible thing, an indispensable utility for our world, and especially for ourselves.

 

Painting is emotional, seduces you by its mere presence, a moment of the present in all power, with strength and delicacy...

 

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 The writer, his attachment,

lover of Literature ...

 

 

There are the loves of youth and the love of literature, these are shared feelings of the same order, the relationship to what is unavoidable, vital things, of the author's mind, of his desire, of his inner world, the relationship to live, as we breathe, the air and the wind ...

 

The commitment of an author, the relationship of writing, is the commitment to the ideas of writing of what an author can be, and of its additional difficulties that writing is an excessively medium. Elitist or demanding, with few elected, and little recognition in return ...

 

But it is at this price, the audacity of the writer in front of the world, to try to be authentic, to be oneself, to assert what one is and why one does it ... His own truth at work ...

 

Regarding the reader, I am very interested in how he feels about things, his understanding of the author, his truth, the correctness to say, to communicate, the essential for the author's truth, his deep nature. .

 

The discovery of an author opens you to a sensitive New World, to discover, a particular vision, a thought in order that goes to the heart.

 

Literature, its value is essential, a human work of a richness attached to its time, writing is essential to oneself and to others, open to the world, ideas, feelings to share, the intimate that does work .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Versailles

 

Places of power, of the arts, of a society, of a world forgotten forever or the representation of all luxuriance, the French language or the French spirit beyond all refinements, here below and in the heavens , or the king the divine representation of men in charge of all things on earth ...

 

The divine spirit is made of exception and of all luxuries, of all the achievements of the arts like those of the war, to reign, it is the king.

 

In Versailles, at court, the most sought-after value was wit, wit, you were then raised to the rank of a man of spirit, a value more important than a few jewels or other goods ...

 

It was the time of great minds, the spirit of enlightenment, of the arts of a good society, with tastes and shared values to nourish the spirit and the divine and failing that the reminiscences of everyday contingencies, of the body, we feed the body and the spirit or inquire about the wonders of the world in which this society of noble people is involved ...

 

All the distinctions were important, the attention to detail was there, in all things, things had to reveal the spirit of this golden age ...

 

 

Everything was involved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Desire to write

 

 

My desire to write ...

 

This desire is for me, enjoyable, irrepressible, very rewarding for oneself and for others, an essential need for one's intellect, for one's life, in line with one's ambitions, that of saying, of telling, of sharing, of moving , to give meaning to things, to human feelings, to throw a bottle into the sea, to go to another shore, far away ...

 

A distant imagination, giving hope through writing and these commitments, convincing, winning through ideas, reason, with poetry, heightened sensitivity, love, charm, and finally the heart ...

 

This is my ambition, that of the author in love with writing and words that have meaning, and even beyond that of rallying, bringing together and not dividing people to his cause ...

 

A sort of philosophy of thought, of the soul, coupled with a high intimate poetic sense ...

 

Literature should be all and one at the same time gathered, condensed, to my taste, and should give meaning to life, to value it and to things, a thought of the intimate ...

 

Like a painted work or drawing with the heart of a single stroke on the instant ideas that invade you, overwhelm you, tell yourself and others ...

 

The artist and poet, author and writer, I hope to be, writer of the feeling of things.

 

 

Author: Philippe ROUSSEAU

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Free, Freedom ...

Freedom cherished France

Without waiting, finally let us free ...

 

 

Without waiting let us free, imposed prison, lies, tyrannies, with mental violence! No to submission! Finally, live Liberty! Freedom cherished France!

Disobedience, prisoners mentally, physically ...

 

The confinements to unreason, mental prison.

Life, live or die, no to fear, walking in fear ...

 

A hymn to life, we wrapped up in cellophane, we are in chains, or are they happy days, of our beautiful France, free, cherished freedom ...

 

Dare resistance, dare disobedience, say no, no to our chains, no to our imposed prisons, bad dream, do not say !

 

The free stars sparkling in the sky to the song of deliverance, free, freedom.

Let us live like the suns that shine in the highest, let us shine together freely, the spirit clear, light, let us live and breathe freedom, finally let us live free ...

 

Despair, fear, confinement, lies, tyranny, no to its people of despair, of self-forgetting, of living, of forgetting freedom, scorned, mistreated, betrayed ...... say no! Finally, free to the stars of hopes !

 

I have a dream in the stars of the sky, blue of the sky, pink of love, finally free, in the song of love.

 

To the melodies of love, the birds themselves whistle at the top of their lungs, free of hope and love, sing of freedom, finally free ...

 

Sweet melody of our cherished freedoms, chained, let's fly to the highest, free to say and to live, dare to live without chains… say no !

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Under Vichy's eye, resistance or betrayal ...
The shadow man did act, Covid obliges ...

 

 
The new implacable order imposes its anti-democratic laws as under the regime of another time that of Vichy, and of its heinous crimes unspeakable to the blind violent cruelty, the men of power not of feelings, force is with the law, that of the regime imposed by force… No one should oppose, like the Vichy laws, from another era to the horror of the turmoil of our modern time…
 
The propaganda is there, relentless, inexorable logic ... Covid 19 or betrayal of the people, of their rights and freedoms ... No arbitrary arrest for those who do not obey, but the law of the fine to the authoritarian package, to police the drift, penal order, we no longer compromise, here is the new order ... Resistance ...
 
No democrat, no democracy, the time is not for democratic dialogue, the point is not there, this idea is inept… Against nature… In the hour of truth, of the first necessities, compulsory purchase, new order, state injunctions ... the law of Covid 19.
 
The virus like a curse that cruelly and tragically haunts us, the virus is there, it strikes, we do not know ... we do not know where, we do not know who, the virus is there, it is watching us ... the fatal moment, like a monster from the shadows, it strikes, serious cases in intensive care, death is there, young or old… It is a tragedy before our helpless eyes… The regime imposes state of affairs under the law of fear… Fear a weapon like another, effective, tragic.
 
Covid 19 uncontrollable killer virus, without any prejudice, it strikes indifferently, equal in its sentence, it kills as it passes, no one is immune any matter what, death can be at the appointment, without distinctions whatsoever 'they are… Death does not compromise, implacable, the arbitration award is fatal… For whom his destiny is tragic…
 
The law of the State Covid imposes without discussion, obliges us urgently, we are under the injunctions of a new order, of the urgency which makes law, no national assembly, the new order of the laws of exception, we are under the didactic of injunctions, no democratic vote for the representation of people's deputies, the law of order prevails, no opposition, swept away ... everything is under control, the reason for power, not of the sovereign people, we, the orphan of democracy violated, brutalized, murdered in the name of a state did act, the virus opens the way to the worst ... a new order, a new order regime ...
 
No one else would have been more successful in imposing this state of affairs by the law of men of the betrayal of our democracy which is no longer emptied of its fundamental substance.
 
Our cherished freedom, our libertarian ideas, to that of the fate of our capital Paris, such as that of its liberation, that of Paris, of a dark time, of a sad and absolute occupation, in the face of the blackness of these times, that of treason and state crime ...
 
When will our freedom be restored, the honor of free men and women freed from odious diets, under the law of ignominy, the regime of fear, an anti-democratic regime, liberticide, police ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Simple happiness

 

 

Happy days are unique moments in the history of life, its fulfillment.

 

A simple happiness, essential thing, a happy love, a life of fullness, a happy life, a simple finitude.

 

The beautiful life, the life of simple happiness.

 

Love of poetic happiness, in pastel pink, a light evanescent touch of purity.

Joy, the sun radiates from happiness to the pleasure of a forbidden paradise.

 

A successful life, its culmination, a real life, of unfulfilled happiness, a real life, of life's imperfections, happiness of a lifetime.

 

Forbidden love, to liberating happiness, a joy elevated to the divine, is a rare pleasure, of a precious life.

 

With loves accomplished, happiness is there at the end of the road, smiles at you, awaits you, there, at the end of the infinite horizon.

 

I'll go there at the end of the road, even simple happiness ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Love letter

 

The poetry of words flies over the sheets of books, to say lovers the words of love...

 

Words of love forever ...

 

The passing of time, to the death that separates lovers, people who love each other...

 

To the tragic fate, which forbids us, separates us forever ... to loves fallen by the misfortune that strikes ... death.

 

The loves of the English patient, a love letter written there, the last love letter...

 

The most genuine, of deep love, of lost love.

 

Love is there, at worst ...

 

The letter written until the last breath, until the last moment, in the twilight, and the cold, then the last words lying there in the dark, to say his love before the inevitable end of the lovers' promise, terrible moments...

 

To find oneself despite the death that stands in the way, to fulfill one's word of love given to find oneself despite the accomplished destiny, the passing...

 

Impossible loves are in the pantheon of loving beings of heart and soul.

 

Nothing stops love, not even death.

 

 

Words fly away in the lightness of evanescent spirits, hearts win the heavens never to return, like loving birds soar there to the firmaments of immortal lovers illuminating the starry stars ... A word of love ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                 The tearing

 

Algeria forever.

 

France, the fault in the history of this dirty war ...

 

Or Maurice PAPON of hateful sad memory under Vichy ...

Called to business, PAPON is rife in Algeria (regional prefect for eastern Algeria in Constantine) deploys "operational protection detachments" (DOP) specializing in interrogations, torture ... Papon will also adapt it to Paris, to in 1958, in the form of the “Algerian Affairs Coordination Service.”

 

 

Algeria, land of men and women in hope.

 

Colonization, suffering, war, independence, betrayal ...

 

Land of Camus, Camus Nobel Prize, abroad.

 

Land of hope.

 

Men of power, to the detriment of men and women, of the people betrayed, satisfied by terror.

 

Today, a country with a heavy and terrible fate, blind power, with simple contempt for life ...

 

Understanding between the economic powers between France and Algeria, betrayal, duplicity of the economy or of interests, money without borders to the detriment of men and women, money at the heart of the military power of the country, of the powers political, military, economic ...

 

The money of the compromise for only policy, for only horizon, parody of democracy, betrayal and submission by terror of men and women ...

Another hope ... a dormant, dreamed of hope, of dissident intellectuals, the chains will one day break, to the oblivion of the peoples ... born strength, for the freedom of the peoples, who one day will take their destiny in hand ...

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Elisabeth-Louise Vigée-Lebrun - This 18th century of refinement, in the circle of fine spirits or the apprenticeship of the St-Luc academy ...

 

Elisabeth Louise Vigee-Lebrun - The 18 th century refinement, the circle of fine spirits or learning of the Academy of St. Luke ...

 

Daughters of Louis Vigée , pastellist, member of the Academy of Saint-Luc, and of Jeanne Maissin , of peasant origin, Élisabeth Louise Vigée entered, at the age of six, as a boarder at the school of the Convent of the Trinity, in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine.

 

Court painter with 660 portrait paintings, professional painter at 14, she fled clandestinely to the gates of the revolution in exile at the start of the revolutionary period, she believed she would travel for six months, and the last 13 years with the largest courts in Europe, it will stay in Italy, Austria, England and Russia ...

 

Women with a talented and free destiny who knew how to combine success and fortune, in her memoirs she will say, "Before the Revolution, women had power, the revolution dethroned them ..."

 

Born in Paris in April 1755 just a few months before Marie-Antoinette ...

 

In 1761 her father got her back to live with him and for his teaching. Louis Vigée his father practiced pastel portraits, he encouraged her, he told her, "You will be a painter or you will never be…" at 11 she left the convent, her mother Jeanne took her to the exhibitions, she is self-taught, she married Jacques François le Sèvre, a clientele of great bourgeois and noblemen and began to have significant fees… Pre-Romantic portraits for portraits of men act with cunning in her work…

 

They meet two important women for their then destiny in the gardens, during everyone's leisure, the promenade, nobility, grande bourgeoise, craftsmen, merchant and bad subjects meet in the gardens of the Tuileries, the Champs Elysees, the Luxembourg, and at the Royal Palace where Elisabeth and her family settled ...

 

When walking, you have to see and above all be seen, for example fashionable places are created and last only for a moment like the colosseum located on the Champs Élysée and lit by 2,000 candles, it could accommodate 40,000 people ... There we found cafes, circuses, trinket shops and curiosities, a performance hall, a ball, we used to shoot fireworks ...

 

During these walks, Elisabeth is noticed ...

 

These two important women for his destiny cross his path ...

 

The Duchess of Châtres future Duchess of Orleans protects the artists, practically her neighbor because she lives at the Royal Palace, then asks her to portray her and her friends ...

 

The second meeting which will decide his future triumphs will also take place during one of these walks in a park… “We went to Marly-le-Roi, and there for the first time, I took the idea of an enchanting stay , one morning, I met the queen there who was walking in the park with several ladies of her court… They were all in white dresses and so young that she seemed to me like an apparition… ”.

“The queen urges me to continue my walk, wherever I please. "

Marie-Antoinette arrived in France in May 1770 at the age of 15 to marry Louis Auguste Dauphin of France and son of Louis XIV.

 

Elisabeth works freely and on the fringes of all institutions, the jurande the body which governs the institutions, comes to seize these instruments in her workshop and forces her to register her activity within a professional framework. She is obliged to join a master's degree for the profession of the painter, it is the Academy of Saint-Luc where a member of the Royal Academy of Sculpture and Painting ... And thus present herself at the Academy of Saint-Luc or she will be brilliantly received ...

 

In 1775 Jacques François le Sèvre moved and took an apartment in a beautiful mansion in Paris, rue de Clairie , almost opposite the apartment of his father Louis Vigée … This apartment in a very beautiful hotel called the Hôtel Duber where he lives Jean-Baptiste Pierre Le Brun leads a career as a painter, restorer of paintings and art dealer, he has a real museum in his apartment… which will allow Elisabeth to perfect her pictorial knowledge…

 

He owns the collection of Count Joseph Jacinthe de Baudreuil who is close to the court, father of France, governor of the Louvre, and member of the Academy of Fine Arts and will become the first collector of portraits of Elisabeth ...

 

She will make a trip to Flanders after she married in 1776 with Jean-Baptiste Pierre Le Brun, she discovered upside down, the genius of Rubens and will be inspired by the technique of the master to realize a self-portrait of oak. At Antwerp merchant discovers a painting by Rubens the Straw Hat or rather a felt hat and allows a play of drop shadows and light golden effect, a play on the face and on the forehead ... which will be the masterpiece, of his own future masterpieces ...

 

Back in France, she will paint a self-portrait, her masterpiece… With extraordinary glazes, at the height of her art… One of her most beautiful paintings, the first painted on wood. The success of her painting is so important that she will reuse this composition on several occasions for large commissions for characters of the highest ranks, the first of her, Madame du Barry, then the most prestigious will be Marie-Antoinette and many others. 'Others still ...

 

Ambitious Elisabeth, she wanted to rise to the highest level of power and it was through the Duchess of Châtre that she reached Marie-Antoinette. In 1778, she officially acceded to the orders of Versailles… Marie-Antoinette was always disappointed with these portraits that were made of her. The letter she sent to her mother in November 1774, she said, "The painters kill me and despair me ..."

If Élisabeth has a real talent, it is that of adapting to the personality of these models… Her art and of expressing the grace of young nobility girls, the spicy lightness of the actress of Madame Mollet Rémond , or sensuality of Madame Grant, future princess of Tallerand ...

 

The essential characteristic of the paintings of Vigée Le Brun is the grace of these portraits, and inhabited by a lot of feelings, empathy with the model, by his listening and his observation ...

 

Marie-Antoinette had found her portrait painter and forged a regular familiar and friendly relationship ... Elisabeth wanted to return to the Royal Academy of Painting, but she was refused the fact of producing paintings and her husband being a painting dealer ... And she ends up obtaining it in secret by bringing in through Marie-Antoinette who asks the King to have her accepted at the Royal Academy of Painting. Women are hardly accepted at the academy, only four of them were accepted in 1783 ...

 

At the Royal Academy of History Painting, the upper hierarchy of artists, the undisputed master was Jean-Louis David, friends of Elisabeth, history painting was at the top, the portrait was much lower… Madame Vigée Le Brun allowed herself the impertinence of flirting with history painting, through the canvas she presents for the reception at the academy "The pair bringing abundance" ...

 

Shortly after her return to Paris on January 18, 1802, Vigée Le Brun saw Laure Regnaud de Saint-Jean d'Angely and Joséphine Bonaparte. Very quickly, she found some of her friends from before 1789 such as Geuze , Hubert Robert, Bongniart or Ménageot .

 

The artist continued to paint in the service of the Empire and the European aristocracy, and between 1803 and 1805 began many trips to England.

England counts among 800 portrait painters and the competition is tough, Vigée Le Brun takes a step back from the English society which she finds deeply monotonous and boring, and says, " I am not surprised that the spleen was born here, you have fun. How bored we are… ”

 

She will return definitively to France in 1805, and will continue the delicate and sensitive work which had made her success before the revolution.

 

Vigée Le Brun passed away slowly on March 30, 1842 alongside his nieces. She died after having known the glory and the critics, the luxury and the exile, the monarchies and the revolutions, the greatest artists and the powerful Europeans of her time, traveled all over Europe, aged 87, will register on his grave his Epitaph at Louveciennes "Here, finally, I rest ..."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

      "Lovers are alone in the world,”

to those of great minds ...

 

 

To the great love of lovers with desires subjugated by the desire for loving feelings, to lovers in need of cupid and the lover of unbearable beauty.

 

The rose of the times with heady scents, with its fragile purity, drunk couples in search of immeasurable love, love suits them well to the complexion.

 

Love innocent to the purity of souls is the most beautiful, the greatest to the nobility of hearts of young people.

 

To Louis Jouvet or "Lovers are alone in the world," delivered to the harshness and injustice of the world ...

 

What is love, sincere love devoid of all interest?

 

Sacrificial love or due to the weaker sex, sacrificial ingenuity, the debt of love or the debt of the heart.

 

Love or suffering, happiness would then be unbearable! The lover with a loving heart, says I love you, and can only say that, the heart ignites ...

 

Love and like luck, it keeps its secrets ...

 

The loves of Madame de Maintenon, wife of an illustrious king or Saint-Cyr, offers the birdies, a poor young girl of the nobility, a disinterested love, unconditional to those of women.

 

Women or made love, or passionate love for women ... know how to resist the desire to please ...

 

Mary Shelley, the empire of beauty, your love has chains for my heart, I join the gates of hell swept away by waves, to distant darkness, something is at work in my soul… A bad one, a strange dream, from another world or the fatal tragedy, of a sinister day or the sad fate come true. And Gustave Doré, beyond the grave, the spirit of Dante reincarnated ... or the genius in addition ...

 

To great men, verses from Sieur Racine, to beautiful things of the mind ... Please bring your soul, like music, love is an affair of the heart, to the good feeling of it unlike those who are devoid of it, pleasure is a story of the passions of the heart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

" The big s maneuver s " , Gérard Philippe, Michelle Morgan -

" Hotel du Nord " or Renee or art lovers lost s .

The shooting stars or the women ...

 

Gérard Philippe incorrigible seducer as an army Colonel, with multiple adventures of women for new conquests, or a bet, to seduce Michelle Morgan, who falls madly in love with him ...

 

Big-hearted women run briskly through the stars like shooting stars… The hearts of lovers are consumed with languid, impatient hearts…

 

 

And at the Hôtel du Nord … ( Annabella : Renée, Pierre's fiancée - Arletty: Mme Raymonde, the prostitute - Louis Jouvet: M. Edmond, Mme Raymonde's protector - Jean-Pierre Aumont: Pierre, Renée's fiancé ).

 

Renée: "I have never loved tonight so much, I couldn't love more…"

Pierre the lover: “I wouldn't have wanted to be happy. "

Renée: "We only have our love in the world and nothing more ..."

Pierre the lover: "We will be happy, we will be dead under a lucky star ... We will be far from everything, and we will never come back ..."

Pierre the lover: "The others have no love, they have the rest ... Never again, we will walk in the night to reach the dawn ... Renée, my love ... Answer me ...".

 

Renée's supposed death… at the Hôtel du Nord.

 

Robert: “This is the first time that I'm shy, they called me Edmond, my real name is Robert. I have become our type, I have changed my skin, I like clean clothes… neat suits, impeccable ties, I cannot see music even in painting, blood does not impress me anymore, on the contrary . It's hard to leave each other at that point… And then, I was made to be something other than Edmond or Polo… The proof is that tonight, it's Robert who is talking to you… You can listen to this one, it is clean, it has hardly ever been used… There you go! That's all ! It's a gift, it's a gift that looks like nothing, but I paid dearly for it ... I always told myself that this confidence, I would tell Renée one morning, on the morning of our first night, but I realize now that we will never have a first night, both of us… It's as if we had had it elsewhere, since I gave myself up to you … " Renée: "I would have liked to give you something in exchange, so that we are left, only I have no secrets ..."

Robert: “You listened to me, that's enough for me, and you had merit in listening to me… Lady, yes, because happiness and you, that makes two… And my story alongside yours .. . "Renée’: Oh, my story is over. " Robert: “Finished ?? "

Renée: “Yes and the funniest thing, and that I can't get out of it… No, forgetting and starting over doesn't depend on Pierre, but on me… And I won't be resigned to it! I had so much hope, so much confidence… He had only that my love, so you understand! We do not resign ourselves to believing in it anymore! We want to stay again! We love ! In this circumstance, you would need someone who forces you to leave… As in the cemetery or the theater… As for those who remain standing there, go away, have closed the doors… ”. Take me, let's go, we almost sank, we missed a lot of things! Let’s not stay there! There is another life for us somewhere… Elsewhere… It will perhaps succeed, I do not expect anything from anyone… With our two misfortunes… We can do… ”

Robert: “A great catastrophe !! "

Renée: "Take me since anyway we have to go… Take me!" "

Robert: “It would be too good! … ”

 

Renée: “At the last moment my heart failed me. La Josiane left without me. "

Peter the lover: "And the other?

Renée: “He had to embark anyway… And yet at the start, I was inserted, I believed in it! I saw myself living in Port Said, free from everything with brand new memories. If I did not leave, it is because I could not do otherwise, it is because something stronger than me was holding me back… You! " Pierre the lover: "So it wasn't much that something!" "

Renée: "What can it do, I did everything I could try to hate you, I didn't succeed… And even like, I don't understand better now, yes , to get the other to take me, to leave everything, I spoke to him like you the other evening at the Hôtel du Nord. , I realize now, I used your words to convince him… But when we had to let go, when it was already too late, so I was scared too… You see, we had both missed a train, we quit. " Peter the lover: “No! But no ! You didn't want to kill the other one! "

Renée: "I did worse, I gave her hope ..."

Renée: "Pierre, in two days your dismissal will be signed, where will you go?" If I do not listen to people, if I persist in verses and against all! Perhaps it is out of selfishness ...

Pierre, I need you… ”

Pierre the lover: "You think, you think we could live together? To be happy together? "

Renée: "I'm sure of it! "

Peter the lover: "As before? "

Renée: “As before! Do you have remorse? Well, I have no remorse… I don't regret that you fled! I don't regret being alive! Dare to tell me to my face, I'm sorry to have missed you! So dare! You see that we can relive together! " Cafe boss: "At what time did you have an appointment?" "

Renée: "After the ball"

 

Cafe boss: "I hope this time you won't come back and kill yourself at 16… Huh!" Are you going to get married ? Of course, finally ... A good marriage is better than a bad suicide! ... "

The Cafe Owner's wife: "What are you telling him!" "

Cafe boss: “Nothing! These are the words of July 14, what do you say Renée? ... "

The Patron de Café's wife: "My little Renée, when you leave, don't say goodbye, pretend you're going for an errand… That way, the roofer and me, we can always believe that you'll be back for a while to the other… We like you! Well, it's usual. " Cafe boss: "It's as if tomorrow when I come back here, I can't find my zing anymore !" I would miss it, well, we will miss you too! Ah there … ”

Robert: “It's beautiful, we meet in music! He went out ? Huh? he had a dismissal? That's it ? Huh? He went out ? "

Renée: “This morning! "

Robert: "Did you see him again?" No ? Are you going to see him again? "

Renée: “Yes, after! "

Robert: “After what? "

Renée: “After the ball! "

Robert: "Is he waiting for you?" "

Renée: “Yes. "

Robert: “He's lucky! Renée, I thank you for giving me, like that, spending three days of your life… ”

Renée: “There is something like that to believe! I didn't lie to you, when I asked you to take me, I really intended to go all the way… ”

Robert: “I'm sure of it! The two of us weren't very far, but you still showed me the country! No harm done… "

Renée: "Aren't you going to go up to your room?" "

Robert: “Why? "

Renée: “Two men waiting! Raymonde told them who you are! "

Robert: “Oh yes! To God Renée! "

Renée: "To God"

Robert: “I told you my name is Robert! "

Renée: "To God, Robert"

Renée: "The day is breaking, the weather will be fine ...". “Come on now, it's over…”.

Peter the lover: "What of which? .”

Renée: "The hotel du Nord" ...

 

End ... (Music ...)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 " Free, still free ..."

Covid and Others ...

Our irreverence, with authoritarian power.

 

No to indignity, authoritarianism, violent directorial forces blinded to power, this power whatever it is, be it cursed, hated, hated, statesmen of indignity with outrageous contempt.

 

Let’s bow out, without allegiance… No! No !

 

Let's go live our happiness !!! Live free, free, free again ...

 

No to their violence, to their subordinate power, to the height of indecency ...

 

Let us bow to them, let us be irreverent, without indulgence in the face of their insanity, we in all intransigence. Say, No! In all intelligence.

Live free, free, free again ...

 

Without allegiance, traffickers in fear, from social fear of indecency! Take freedom! In the face of their indignity! We don't want your chains, and minds, all designated prisoners.

 

Let us bow to them, without allegiance… No! No !

 

Affirm our resistance to their scenario of their insanity without indulgence, inhuman ...

 

To live free, free, free again ... Let us adorn an arm of honor to this state of fear without honor, fascist, to men in command, to the shields of the forces of blind tyranny ... Let us keep them at a distance, let us not be without resistance , in the face of so much indecency, they have completely lost their minds.

 

Let us not give our cherished freedoms to their indignities ... Let us be without indulgences !

 

Let's break down, brave their prisons, they've lost their minds ...

 

Let’s bow out, without allegiance… No! No !

Let's go live our happiness !!! Live free, free, free again ...

 

Let’s bow out, without allegiance… No! No !

Let's go live our happiness !!! Live free, free, free again ...

 

Let us not be docile, and let us be without wisdom in the face of these unworthy, contemptuous, their shameless wealth displayed with accents of class vulgarity, orderly and clean, these predators with sharp claws, these so-called honest men with the real paces of evil and false prophets, under the yoke of these alienating, mortal despots ...

 

Let's go live our happiness !!! Live free, free, free again ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

      

 

 

 

 Eternal lovers - "Quai des Brumes"

Michelle Morgan and Jean Gabin ...

 

 

Love to these shores, which lovers frequent by the water's edge, under the silvery stars, which unite the hearts of eternal lovers, eye to eye, cross the stars never to return, to the victorious heart braves l'eternal…

 

- Love dialogues ...

 

Jean: “Well ? What are you waiting for to tell me good meal ? You? Don't you know the conveniences? No ? Hey ! The dog a long time ago, maybe you are hungry too? "

Nelly: "Is it yours?" " Jean: “Yes! "

Nelly: “He has a pretty face! "

Jean: “You too! Here, you are beautiful and I like you! No kidding ! T ' are not thick, but I like you! Your approach also I like you, love at first sight! The bamboo stroke, love what! You know the guy with his wings on his back and his arrows ! Hearts on trees, romance then tears! Ah! where there is always the same! Vacherie! Vacherie! Vacherie! And Company ! " Nelly: "Do you really mean it ? "

Jean: “What ! "

Nelly: “What you say! Love! "

Jean: “Ah! There ... The chicks it's always the same ... She's doing the turf ! And it's sentimental like a postcard ! "

Nelly: "What did you say Turkish ? "

Jean: “Yes! What! It's one of the living languages! The Turf! The hustler! "

Nelly: "Why are you talking to me like that?" "

Jean: "You are not going to make me believe that you came here to bring a pancake to your old grandmother? No ? You're not Little Red Riding Hood! Say I'm going to tell you it's a shame because… I am the big bad wolf !"

 

Nelly: "Why do you laugh all the time like that?" It's not a real laugh! It's a sad laugh! "

Jean: "Have you seen a woman love a grifton ? (Soldier) " Huh? It's when they march in quick time and in the dust! A man and a woman can't get along! They don't talk the same! They don't have the same vocabulary! "

Nelly: “They can't get along , but they can love each other! "

Jean: “Oh! Have you ever loved someone? Huh? "

Nelly: “No! Not really ! "

Jean: “Ah! So what ! "

Jean: "Is it because we're shooting that you're afraid?" "

Nelly: “No! If there was only that! "

Jean: “What are there others? " Nelly: “But, I can't tell you! " Jean: “You don't need to be afraid, since I'm here! "

Nelly: “It's nice. " Jean: "What's your name? "

Nelly: “Nelly. "

Jean: "My name is Jean ..."

Nelly: "Every time the day breaks, we believe that something new is going to happen, something fresh, and then the sun goes down and then we do like him, it's sad ..."

Jean: "What were you saying earlier, did you mean it ?" "

Nelly: “What? "

Jean: “Love! "

Nelly: "Yes, without that, why would I have said it?" "

Jean: “Oh! I do not know why ? Salads, like that, to tenderize the customer, what? "

Nelly: “Customers?

 

Jean: "You're a funny girl anyway, it's true, I just have to look at you, listen to you and worse, you make me want to cry…"; "Aren't you hungry? " (In the background the music ... "Quai des Brumes ...")

Nelly: “No, I don't want anything, I'm fine! "

Jean: "Is it true? Are you okay with me? "

Nelly: “Oh! You may not know, how good I am with you! I breathe, I am alive! It must be like that when you're happy! "

Jean: "You what you say, it does not hold up in the air!" You will say that to someone other than me, I will find it silly, but I say to myself like that! Well, it's funny, it makes me happy! " Jean: “You have beautiful eyes, you know! … ”

Nelly: “Kiss me!

 

Jean: “Nelly! "

Nelly: “Kiss me again! Jean: “Come on, come on, what!

You are not going to cry! Huh! Nelly ! "

Nelly: "When you call me like that, 'Nelly!', it's like you're looking for me very far when I was little! "

Jean: “Oh! You are not that tall, you know! "

Nelly: “Yes! I grew up too fast! I have seen too much! So I am damaged! "

Jean: “Oh! Damaged! Damaged! You are the coolest girl I have ever met, what do you want, a girl who is beautiful, it's like a man who tries to be free… Everyone is against, like a pack ... " Nelly: “It's hard to live! "

Jean: “Yes! We are alone! Yet sometimes you see, we meet people that we barely know that we will perhaps never see, then they do you a service! We don't know why! " Nelly: “It's because people love each other! "

Jean: “No! People don't like each other! They don't have time!

 

Nelly: “I love you, Jean! "

Jean: “Shut up! Go ! You talk like a child! "

Nelly: "If I'm sure I really like you!" "

Jean: “Come on! Let's go "

Nelly: "You mustn't leave me! And without you what will become of me! "

 

...

 

Nelly: "If you go, maybe you would take me ?" "

Jean: "Take you? "

Nelly: "You don't like me? Ah you have to keep me! "

 

 

In the hotel…

 

Jean: “You are beautiful! You know ! "

Nelly: "Do you remember? "

Jean: “What? "

Nelly: “Tonight! You woke me up and then you spoke to me very softly! You told me you loved me ! " Jean: "Did I tell you that?" "

Nelly: " M Mmm "

Jean: "Oh it's not possible you dreamed? Oh dreams, do you know the dreams of me? "

Nelly: “Everyone dreams ! "

 

 ...

 

Jean: “I could have told you last night, I saw you so happy, you laughed and I liked you so much! So I didn't say anything! " Nelly: “You did well! Then things would have been the same! You know ! "

Nelly: “Kiss me! "

Jean: “And if you want! I can explain it to you, it's not complicated! You can, you can trust me, I'm not that bad! " Nelly: "Of course you're not bad since I love you, and what's it like!" If you were bad maybe I'll love you anyway! " ...

 

Nelly: "So we have to go, I was happy with you and if I know that you are free, I will still be happy even if you are far away…"

Jean: "I will not forget you, Nelly."

Nelly: “It's true! "

Jean: “It's true! If I can get out of this, well, I will write to you and you will come… ”

Nelly: “Yes, I will come! "

Jean: "You're going and I'm going, what, it's stupid, eh! We were both so happy! ”

Nelly: "Jean!"

Jean: “You cannot know what I like you! … And that night too, I liked you! " Nelly: “What now? "

Jean: "And now, I like you like last night!" … ”

 

They are kissing…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"The children of misfortunes" or the revolution announced in progress ... or in 2021 a nation to be reconciled with its injustices ...

 

 

All injustices to his armed wing, let us take out the bayonets, the times of the first revolutions, that of the commune of Paris or the insurrectionary communes of France in 1870-1871 or the injustice which was law in the face of “the children of misfortune” or “children of misfortunes ”, were violently repressed with severity by the order imposed in place ...

 

 

 

- Adolphe Thiers (1797-1877) Emblematic figure of French liberalism and conservatism, Adolphe Thiers, initially a lawyer in Marseille, came to Paris in 1821. He distinguished himself as a historian and journalist, supporter of a parliamentary monarchy. In 1830, after the promulgation of the ordinances of Charles X. abolishing the freedom of the press and modifying the electoral law, Thiers writes the protest of the journalists and pushes Louis-Philippe on the throne at the end of the July revolution. He becomes state councilor and deputy. Appointed Minister of the Interior in 1832, he was inflexible in the face of social unrest, crushed the republican riots of April 1834 in Paris and Lyon, caused by the prohibition of the right of association, and passed the law. In September 1835… against press offenses. President of the Council in 1836, then in 1840, he had to resign after a few months, the king judging his foreign policy too aggressive. Thiers then joined the opposition. Alongside the Republicans. (Extract from Le Monde diplomatique - by Olivier Pironet.)

 

So is the life of the people, every era or society such as Victorian society with its servants and tenant or occupier had these glaring injustices, even absolutism. Or the total absolutism of the old regime in France whose end was for the French nation extremely violent and led France to a bloodthirsty totalitarian revolution during the episode of the Revolutionary Terror of the first citizen Maximilien de Robespierre.

 

French lawyer and politician born May 6, 1758, in Arras (Artois, now Pas-de-Calais) and died in the guillotine on July 28, 1794 (10 Thermidor year II) in Paris, place de la Révolution (now Place de la Concorde ). He is one of the main figures of the French Revolution and also remains one of the most controversial figures of this blood-tasting revolution ...

 

The tragic episode of Terror imposed by Robespierre left approximately 50,000 French people dead and between July 1792 and July 1794, 300,000 arbitrary arrests ...

 

- On August 26, 1789, the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen was signed, an essential constitutive document of the new political regime. In this electric climate, a banquet given the following October 1 at the Royal Opera of Versailles appears as the last provocation of the monarchy and its representatives.

 

The bodyguards have decided to organize a banquet in honor of the arrival of a new regiment: that of Flanders. A 210-seat table is set in the Opéra parterre, the wine is flowing freely. Toasts are brought to the royal family who are acclaimed at their appearance. The orchestra plays "Ô Richard, Ô mon roi" from the opera Richard Cœur de Lion by Grétry. These noisy demonstrations of monarchical fidelity arouse anger in Paris. The gazettes transform the banquet into an orgy and claim that the tricolor cockade has been trampled on.

 

Some would even have turned it over to the white side, symbol of the king. Organizing a banquet when the people are hungry is too much for Marat, Danton and Desmoulins, who are calling for a March on Versailles.

 

The people marched on Versailles on October 5, 1789, a procession of women, accompanied by a few men, went to Versailles. The king, meanwhile, hunts in Meudon, and Marie-Antoinette walks in Trianon.

 

Word of the march spreads throughout the city. We close the gates of the castle. The queen, informed, retires to her apartments; the King returns to the Castle.

 

A delegation of women is received by the King, who multiplies the promises.

 

Soon, the women were joined by many rioting deputies, who made it difficult to protect the royal family. In the royal court, at the foot of the castle, the crowd shouts "In Paris! In Paris!" (Extract from the text of the website www.chateauversailles.fr.)

 

Nowadays, our societies undergoing technological revolutions are increasingly abandoning the less well off ...

 

And renounces the support of the unfortunate, children of misfortune ...

 

A revolution of minds is expected, for a more peaceful and egalitarian society, with respect to humans, go to towards humanism, a precious value in these difficult times of COVID and this arbitrary violence ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 The mysteries of the female soul or being feminine, a supplement

of happy soul

 

 

The female soul is sensitive, hyper sensitive, the heart attached to the gentle or violent affections of the soul, the heart is excessively sensitive and touching. Truth emerges from the heart cannot suffocate it, it arises to form a body, takes on its full meaning.

 

The feminine soul or its sweet affectation reveals the feminine soul, its ambivalence, its depth of being, its inner struggles, its pressing expectations, which are felt and arise, challenge the soul, gives these directives to be, torments of the soul, of its imperatives which form a body.

 

The feminine soul is a whole, global, in its being, in truth with itself, for only truth, that of the soul.

 

Women have a joyful heart, with the lightness of being, combine those of the beauty of mind and heart, with those too full of these for only existential happiness and the love of men, in their attachment.

 

 

      

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The waltz of love, feeling of young age ...

 

or "The Happy Lovers" by Gustave Courbet and "Women of Algiers" by Eugène Delacroix

 

 

 

"Happy Lovers" or "Women of Algiers" is a hymn to the love of women, to first love, an Ode to pleasure, to carnal love.

 

A tribute, a lyrical flight entirely devoted to feminine beauty, to femininity, to her grace, to her generous pleasures, to the spirit of women, to her nobility of heart ...

 

Happy Lovers, also called the lovers in the campaign, one of the first titles was La Valse (Pavillon Courbet from 1855, Paris). The version kept in Paris is called : the lovers in the campaign. Feelings of a young age ...

 

Courbet evokes the youthful loves of two lovers or lovers leaning against each other in the whirlwind of a waltz, the waltz of love ...

 

The female model could be her first great love of Gustave Courbet, Virginie Binet, a sweet Dieppoise who accompanied her to glory for more than ten years, and the son she gave her ...

 

The painting reveals the souls, the procrastination of the heart, of its sweet effusions or reveals the human passions with the violence of the feelings experienced, of the feminine and masculine meaning, a whole story that began at the edge of the antiquity of its first ages. Of the world, Greek, and the divinities of Olympus to that in charge of history, kings and their courtesans ...

 

This in the image of Zeus who gave birth to demigods or half-man, woman is an eternal and multiple source of inspirations and lives ...

 

The man in relation to femininity is only his Pygmalion, who shoots arrows in the heart of the loved one to test his passions which excel at his finitude that can be in his demonstration and his character and his exceptional rarity that it is perhaps art, great art.

 

What perhaps a masterpiece, its essence, its luxury, its purity, its unique value, which cannot be duplicated by its very singular character, that of human beings and the love of women, of her gentle inclination to beauty and grace, to love, to the love of human beings ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Song of Poetry"

to the depths of oneself ... a life of joy

 

"The poetics of song" enchants you, illuminates your life, life in pink with flowery harmonies of shimmering colors, in blue tinged with pink poetizes your mind, sumptuous harmony to the taste of a bouquet of fruity aromas explodes, a sweet delight of poetic life.

 

A light cloud of succulent blue-pink cottony confectionery - cotton candy, instantly melts in the mouth, fades to reveal its subtle sparkling flavors ...

 

This poetic life, a daydream of a romance novel, of life, of love, a total fulfillment, free from deep romantic feelings. An eroticized life of the senses, awakened, frees you, to true purity, from a blooming sensuality, enlightens your being, your free spirit, rebellious, a life of joy.

 

Your world enchants you, a dawning life, you are reborn, a new world is yours, such as Bonnie and Clyde or Jules and Jim in the irrational conquest of Kathe ...

 

Love as a friend in life with poetic overtones.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Mounia Belle of the day or

desire, hope, dream, and hope ...

 

 

Money means desire, hope, dream, and hope ...

 

Woman, unforeseen being, hidden treasure with multiple facets, exceptional diamonds such is the feminine being, we never stop discovering her unique and multiple being.

 

Your smile invites you to become acquainted with it, sensitivity and generosity dress your mysterious gaze, imbued with all-feminine seduction, with the brilliant flashes of a warm southern sun.

 

Your joy of life imbued with gravity magnifies your person.

 

Women to be of passion, or reason a thousand desires invite to dream, of a distant land, islet scattered off the waves or vanishes the dreams of travelers, unique character ringing a soft and joyful melody to the sweetest dreams, to the triumph of souls and hearts conquerors.

 

To be of multiple life or dream of a source with saving benefits, lively and curious mind such as Cupid touches your heart, radiant heart, sun, sun shines on the horizon, radiates beings in search of joyful paradise ...

 

Hope, dreams, with many wishes, radiates hearts.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Marilyn Monroe the White Angel -

Dream of the glory of an angel of innocence or the fatal torment of a soul in search of love.

 

Marilyn wants to be an artist… A real… Not Norma Jeane Baker …

 

Hollywood, the cinema is taking, still taking, taking in the cinema… To whom did you belong, Greenson insisted , I belong to the fear, the fear of being taken, to the fear of not being taken… First take cut, Second take cut. Marilyn "Last", the clap of the end… Marilyn, I am a being to be taken, she pays with her soul…

 

Some Stars are like the Stars, their lights are still reaching us, but they have already ceased to shine, they are dead ...

 

Marilyn is over… End of the game… A passionate life with Ralph Greenson her psychoanalyst… The tragedy of Marilyn, beauty reincarnated as an Angel with multiple addictions of all kinds… A fear of men, a desire for seduction, to surrender to the first comer ...

 

Marilyne is crying; "I played Marilyne Monroe, Marilyne, always Marilyne, I parody myself… I dreamed of being able to get away from Marilyne Monroe, and I find myself doing the same thing… I want to get out of there…"

 

When she learns of Gable's death, she does not tell anyone, she does not attend the funeral. She confides in Greenson ; "I loved him with passion when I kiss him in front of the cameras, I just wanted him to know how much I loved him… I wanted him to be my father and tell me that I was there the little girl he loved ... " After his internment ... She calls Joe DiMaggio , she hasn't spoken to him for six years, he immediately arrives at her bedside. On leaving the Clinic a few days later, she confronts a swarm of journalist and photographer, surrounds her and assails her with questions… She appears defeated, disoriented… A nightmare from which she can hardly escape…

 

She decides to return to Los Angeles permanently, the city where she was born and where she would not have wanted to die for anything in the world… The city where she will die…

On June 1, 1960, at age 35, she said she was full of hope, she knew she would never be happy, but at least she could be gay ...

 

What has she lived on in recent months, what is her dying of? Too much sex, too much psychoanalysis in the end like a drug that she cannot do without ...

 

Greenson is frightened by his chance encounters with men in the city… He judges Marilyne lost for psychoanalysis… He is afraid of not being able to save her… of hastening his end… Like a drowned man who takes his savior with him, she attracts Greenson towards the bottom, always lower ... towards the dark, towards the void ...

 

Now with her, he improvises… He crosses almost all the limits… He makes his own children to be his friends, he lets her call him at night, sees her all the time… renouncing these other patients, he sometimes lodges her to his home. The game panics, each demolishes the other ...

 

Greenson, who already sees Marilyne in sessions of 4 hours in a row, will now also receive her in the evening ...

 

But if the end is going to come from another side, the Kennedys, the President and Boby his brother, the Minister of Justice, married with 7 children… This is a type of self-destructive behavior that Greenson wants him to abandon…

 

A tumult, the death of an unresolved tragedy, which threatens her, she sank into mortal despair ... "I feel life more and more near ... Aalst what I want is to die ..." The desire for death appeared out of nowhere… Die, why, for whom?

 

Tragedy awaited her around the corner, she asked Greenson what the night was for, her response was… “ to wait…”; to say to the other comes back, the other was nobody… his name was librium , nembutal , and demerol …

But when Greenson asks him brutally why are you afraid of being filmed? And do you really want to be photographed?

 

She was afraid when she had to speak, say words in front of the camera's eye ...

But when she felt that she was sinking, she only wanted one thing, had only one resource, to have photos taken… In photos, we took her in silence, without a sentence…

 

Marilyne and the President, the response, Edgard Hoover boss of the FBI, but warns the Kennedys about the dangerous collusion with friends Marilyne, the mafia, and them…

 

Because Marilyne is John's mistress and his brother Boby … And for the lover of a left-wing screenwriter José Bolaños … Edgard Hoover is worried about seeing her frequent the reds… She is tapped… She receives threats, he is told that she should no longer take care of the Kennedy brothers … She is on the verge of depression…

 

In February 1962, Marilyne bought a house in the Brentwood District , moved away from the studios and the villa of her analyst… She now wants a house of her own, it is a replica of Ralph Greenson's house . "This house will be the child you never had ... The husband you divorced ..." he said?

 

Marilyne sets up her white piano in her living room, she would come back to it as if to a lost friend, she liked to caress him with her fingertips, when people were becoming deaf, and life was unlivable ...

 

One last film, the last house to please Greenson , it's been a bit of a page turned…

 

The Fox announces to him that it must turn "Something must crack!" »With George Cukor, Greenson negotiates for her an important fee and for him a position of special advisor for the film… It is he who will choose the images for the assembly. She attends the Golden Globes awards ceremony , she appears there in the company of her Mexican lover José Bolaños , pale emaciated, drunk and his back bared by a green silk dress, many think that Marilyne is over… End of the game…

 

Greenson says that life looks like a chessboard or a bad move makes it necessary to give the game for lost… With the difference, that in life, there is no possibility of revenge… During his last years of his life , their relationship becomes passionate Greenson wants to embody the father who has failed her so much, she phones him day and night, to discuss her dreams, her anxieties… He breaks down and in May, he leaves for Europe… Marilyne is broken down, she buys a tape recorder and records herself at home in the dark, at night. She wants to make Greenson hear a free word… These are the tapes that John Miner transcribed and brought forty years later to the reporter for the Los Angeles Times…

 

The beginnings of “Something Must Crack” are a real nightmare, Marilyne is convinced that Cukor hates her and she threatens to commit suicide… She leaves the studio in full shooting…

 

New York, May 18, 1962, she must sing at Madison Square Garden to celebrate the 45th birthday of the President of the United States, the studio threatens to fire her… On the evening of her arrival, New York is a party of which she is the queen…

A chessboard that she dominates by her beauty, with an announced tragedy, she plays imaginary moves, the absent white king, Gladys a black mother queen, Maryline the white queen, Ralph Greenson white and black rider, The Kennedys two black madmen ...

 

At her hotel, a telegram from Fox puts an end to her contract… Troubled, she has difficulty in rehearsing… She has trouble saying for the 30th time, “Happy birds day to you !…” The director is afraid of this path of pain that he hears coming up from her, of his breath being extinguished.

 

Marilyne Monroe is as happy as a child admitted among grown-ups, a girl who spent her youth in poverty is unable to resist the honor bestowed on her, she paid a thousand dollars to attend ...

 

She emerges from the dark on the stage of Madison Square Garden, staggering, as if encumbered with her forms offered in a dress of transparent fabrics… The presenter: “Mr. President… The Late Marilyne Monroe! ".

 

The Late Marilyne Monroe, means late, but also deceased, she realized her wish to be late for her own funeral… Her words are a caress of pleasure, her field loaded more and more loaded with sex, gives to see, and to hear a parody of herself ...

 

After the show, Boby Kennedy stirs like a moth around a flame, but at dawn it is John who leads Marilyne directly to his suite at the Carlyle Hotel ...

 

She will never see John Kennedy again, after that night, they decide to break up and deny all the rumors… The photos of the evening are seized by the FBI…

Marilyne returns to the set, and lets Cukor know that she is ready to shoot… Everyone realizes that she is sick and that she is exhausted…

She shoots the pool scene, she shoots naked, Cukor lets her do it, understanding that for the publicity of the film, it's a chance not to be missed ...

 

Nude photographs, she had taken when she was a starlet, it is not the body that makes her ashamed, it is the word ... She thinks that it is her face which expresses the words that she cannot say… The fear of words… As if she didn't want to let go… On June 1, the production refused to let the team wish her on her birthday… bypassing 5 o'clock in the evening someone sang happy birthday Marilyne, she is 36 years old , he only has one month to live ...

 

She spends hours in front of his mirror to watch for the signs of age, she uses creams based on hormones, have injections Jouvences products ...

It would be easier to avoid old age and die young, but then that will end your life. Who will be who you are, she tells him that she is not succeeding, that her psychoanalyst does not help her, that her profession as an actress is not a problem, but that it is the only solution that she found to solve the other problems ?

 

She tells him that she no longer wants to depend on him… The last part of Marilyne is played now…

 

With her psychoanalyst, everything did not belong to me Marilyne, any more than I belong to you! Was thinking who made you belong to? ; "I belong to those who want to take me ..."

Hoover, Kennedy, the Mafia for a scandal with the president, James Dougherty , Joe DiMaggio , Laurence Olivier, Tony Curtis, Yves Montand, Arthur Miller, Clark Gable, Marlon Brando, José Bolaños … on the edge of the precipice, of fatal depression… A murder… The murder of Marilyn, cinema, money, politics, psychiatry, sex, drugs…

The game of chess ends without a winner, such are the pieces of a player called death… who always wins…

 

Maryline a childhood next door, Gladys, a loveless mother… At the time, I said she was dead, not to say that she was crazy, Marilyne tells of herself as a poor little girl sitting in front of the RKO studio, or her editing mother would ruin her eyes looking at the faces of the stars. Gladys week gave him enough to pay for his entrance ticket to the cinemas of Sun Set boulevards, on Sunday his mother took him on a tour of Hollywood palaces, the palaces of the image where Norma Jeane would triumph over late…

 

Lack of love, lack of children ... the evil is there ...

In Los Angeles, "the city of Angels," on August 5, 1962, around three o'clock in the morning, the fallen angel in his inexorable fall dies, from a deadly cocktail of a powerful barbiturate, the nightstand strewn with boxes of tablets, and there on the foot of the bed an empty bottle of the deadly poison ...

 

The alerted psychiatrist Ralph Greenson arrived there on the scene, Marilyne lying on her bed, there, immobilized ...

Like a statue transformed into stone by a Gorgon pursuing Perseus where cries escape, shrill, inhuman cry, it is the one that the dead make hear in Hades ...

 

Jean Cocteau said his death should be a terrible lesson for anyone whose job it is primarily to spy on and torment movie stars.

 

Los Angeles August 2005, more than 40 years later the reporter for the Los Angeles Times, still wondered about the revelations that John Miner had just made to him… He knew that the truth was in his contradictions, in his fragments of dialogues, its false connections of images. He decided that he was going to publish John Miner's story as it is without questioning its veracity, he was not sure of the title: "Maryline last session ...".

 

Extract Wiktionary : 2000s - John Miner, Matthew Smith - John Miner allegations that Monroe's death was not a suicide received more publicity in the 2000s, when he published the transcripts he claimed to have made from audiocassettes recorded by Monroe shortly before his death. Miner to claim that Monroe gave the tapes to his psychiatrist Greenson , who invited him to listen to them after his death. On the tapes, Monroe opened up about her plans for the future, which Miner says is proof that she couldn't have taken her own life. She also discussed her sex life and the use of enemas; undermined to allege that Monroe had been killed by an enema administered by her housekeeper. Miner's claims have been criticized. During the official examination of the case by the public prosecutor in 1982, he informed investigators of the tapes, but did not mention that he had transcripts of them. Miner claimed it was because Greenson had sworn to shut up. The tapes themselves have never been found and Miner remains the only person to say they existed. Greenson was already dead before Miner went public with them.

 

The biographer Lois Banner Miner knew personally because they both worked at the University of Southern California; she further disputed the authenticity of the transcripts. Miner had once lost his license to practice law for several years, lied to Banner about working for the Kinsey Institute , and filed for bankruptcy shortly before selling the alleged transcripts. He had initially attempted to sell the transcripts to Vanity Fair , but when the magazine asked him to show them to Anthony Summers for validation, it became apparent that he did not have them. The transcripts, which Miner ultimately sold to British author Matthew Smith, were therefore written decades after he claimed to have listened to the tapes. Miner's claim that Monroe's housekeeper was in fact his nurse and administered enemas regularly is also unsupported by evidence.

 

Matthew Smith published the transcripts as part of his book Victim: The Secret Tapes of Marilyn Monroe (2003). He claimed Monroe was murdered by the CIA because of her association with Robert F. Kennedy because the agency wanted revenge for the way the Kennedys handled the Bay of Pigs Invasion. Smith had already written on the subject in his previous book, The Men Who Assassinated Marilyn (1996). Noting that Smith included no footnotes in his 1996 book and only eight in Victim, Churchwell called his account a "web of conjecture, speculation, and pure fiction as documentary fact" and "arguably the less factual of all Marilyn's lives .” Miners transcripts were also discussed in a 2005 Los Angeles Times article.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Eyes of her

 

 

Eyes of love, a woman with a loving gaze, with stars in her heart, with enchanting tastes, rose of love, scented rose perfume those in love in search of hearts ...

 

Apple of love, with a captivating look.

 

Soul and heart reflect on it, mirror of the being where love hangs on you.

The eyes or the crystalline gaze of women open the doors of the feminine soul, its lightness, its beauty, its presence to the tips of the long hair of the romantic hairstyle of women.

 

The sweetness of the soul, its being enlightens you, attracts you, fascinates you, charms you ...

 

The feminine presence makes you feel, makes an impression on you, a sweet impression of the sensitive being enlightens you, holds you under its delicate charm, ignites your passions.

 

The eyes of her, of love, bird twirling with the passion of hearts, unleash the feelings of love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Tenants of our lives,

in the mirror of our being ...

 

 

We are tenants of our lives, we alone are the messengers of our lives, passing through this world of the living.

 

A full, full life is enough for the happiness of this one, of its fullness, of its fulfillment of life.

 

Life for only reason and finitude ... Life for its reasons, its priorities and its requirements and its prevailing designs, embellished a complete life ...

 

The mirror of our beings is our souls where resonate the essence of our beings, the beauty of our feelings, of our friendships and loves, of our cheerfulness of our soul, the only heritage that we transmit for only good, immaterial good, invaluable ...

 

In the mirror of souls, we travel in this world, through time, without limits of our universe to the shards of the stars of the sky, door of an unexplored world where souls fly freely, billions of stars are their messengers or the humanity spectator of this incredible beauty of an immense universe with virginal secrecy ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

" The Temporal Crystal "

in the quantum world of computing , in Fundamental Physics.

 

Changes announced at the edge in advance of a future ist world on the move ...

 

 

"The poetics of the world" to that of an unexplored futuristic avant-garde world ...

 

Quantum Physics - "a time crystal" is a periodic structure in time and space. It extends the idea of crystal in the temporal dimension, once considered impossible ...

Science with these contradictions which defies the laws of thought, the laws of reality, the only laws of general physics itself, of the inconceivable, of the impossible, of the unexpected in real existence.

 

“The temporal crystal,” idea developed and revealed, its inventor, this type of temporal crystal was predicted by the Nobel Prize for Theoretical Physics, Franck Wilczek in 2012.

 

Time crystals defy all expectations: this is where Google's quantum processor, Sycamore comes in . It is well known to have achieved quantum supremacy, and current users are now looking for some kind of useful application for quantum computing ...

The researchers believe that this discovery could well offer incredible potential and that we are only at the origin of this new field ...

 

Google claims to have created a time crystal in a quantum computer by WILLIAM ZIMMER on August 6, 2021.

A single phase of matter called the “time crystal,” which can in theory switch between two configurations forever without energy input, was created in a quantum computer built by Google.

The Google team is believed to have succeeded in creating physics-defying "time crystals" using the company's Sycamore quantum computer , according to a study published by ArXiv .

 

Temporal crystals are nothing less than a new "phase of matter", in the words of the researchers.

 

This has been theorized for a few years now as a new state that could potentially join the ranks of solids, liquids, gases or even plasma. In all four phases, atoms are stuck in the lowest energy state allowed by room temperature, and they do not change over time.

 

Time crystals are the first objects ever created that spontaneously break the "translational symmetry of time" ...

 

Until now, a stable object moving in time had to remain the same, but time crystals do not.

 

They are both stable and constantly changing ...

 

How did Google create a time crystal?

 

To create a time crystal, Google would have used its quantum computer Sycamore . In 2019, this quantum computer had accomplished in 200 seconds a task that an ordinary computer would have taken 10,000 years to solve, thanks to a processor of 53 qubits . The researchers indicated that Google's cloud service would have taken a trillion years to perform an identical calculation.

 

Google claims to have taken a checkerboard with all the red pieces on one side and all the black pieces on the other and metaphorically struck the table in such a way as to perfectly swap the two sides without spending any energy.

 

For the moment, we do not know exactly what such technology could be used for, but should not matter what happens to revolutionize our society once it is mastered.

 

In pure physics ; to understand why temporal crystals are interesting, you need to have some basic knowledge of physics. And in particular knowing the second law of thermodynamics. It states that systems naturally tend towards a state with the lowest possible energy, also called thermal equilibrium.

 

This is why an ice cube melts in a glass of water at room temperature, for example. This overwhelming tendency towards thermal equilibrium, described in the Second Law of Thermodynamics, reflects the fact that all things tend to evolve into less useful and random states. Over time, systems inevitably degenerate into chaos and disorder, a notion known as entropy.

 

Time crystals, on the other hand, fail to settle into thermal equilibrium. Instead of slowly degenerating into randomness, they get stuck in two high-energy configurations that they pass between - and this back and forth process can go on forever, in what scientists call "perpetual motion."

 

Spatial crystals, i.e., crystals in the usual sense break symmetry by spatial translation: they are periodic arrangements of atoms or molecules and they are not invariant by translation or arbitrary rotation, contrary to the laws of general physics, and unlike most liquids or gases.

 

In October 2016, researchers at the University of Maryland said they had created the first discrete time crystal (DTC) from a chain of ten Yb + (ytterbium) ions in a Paul trap. One of the two spin states has been selected by a pair of laser beams. The researchers observed periodic and synchronized oscillations of the spins studied.

 

Unlike normal crystal atoms, which are stable (i.e., resistant to changes in space), temporal crystals cannot exist in thermal equilibrium (in an unbalanced system of type Floquet subjected to a periodic excitation which gives temporal correlations at frequencies under harmonics of the excitation) and therefore require to maintain their oscillations an external contribution of energy which makes appear the oscillations of the temporal crystal, in intrinsic conditions outside of balance.

 

This discovery is of interest for quantum computing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

      

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Singularity of Beings,

the Essence of Souls or Art

 

 

 

The being is unique by virtue of his individual existence, his life course, by the traits of his personality. The world is a multitude of singularities, belonging to their life, to their culture, to their souls, to their identity ...

 

Man is multicultural, with his very personal uniqueness, which is the strength of beings such as "Crazy Horse" (Indian Chief Lacotas - Sioux) the only Indian chief who jostled and challenged in his singularity the white America of his time.

 

Like music, which reveals the soul of beings to the very depths of their beings, the soul is a unique and universal symphony at the same time. This sweet music reveals, its essence as art can make, which is one and unique.

 

The soul then resonates with the Most High, to detect its quintessence, powerful light in the depths of the heavens which reveals being.

 

There in the darkness of the world and its brutal anarchic disorder, it is a divine light where the essence of the spirit touches the deepest, the essence of the divine, the soul spirit, which travels like a melody, echoes in hearts, theft from territory to territory, flies over, without borders, without closed space, flight in the sandstone of the winds sowing the consecrated spirit.

 

In its pure and noble essence, of an immaculate white radiates such the brilliance, the scintillations of the solar stars of an overpowered being, bursting in its first truth, inaccessible to the mortal, supernatural, a virgin territory at the borders of a world unknown…

 

 

The divine, pure and natural soul where art is revealed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To the glory of Olympus or

 the sublimated soul of the Poet

 

 

The soul of the creator, of the artist, consecrated genius, touches the angels, the divine spirits, struck by the gods, up to the very high to be touched by inspiration, flight among angels to the heavens, to the blue of azure, hangs the creative spirits to equal the spirits of the heavens, the unimaginable, the genius, to touch the celestial spirit, the miraculous, the poetry of the gods, there under the arches of the domain of the deities, to compete with the glory of the 'Olympus.

 

The divine soul of the poet enlightens the minds, takes all the risks, without fear, intrepid, theft to all the dangers, does not resign himself to the difficulty, faces the importunity of the moment to sublimate them, to overcome them, to summon the cursed souls , in the kingdom of Hades, in the depths of hell, in the kingdom of the dead, infernal furnace, unbearable, to return from the abysses conqueror of the pandemonium beyond the Styx .

 

The poet is in the pantheon of intellectuals in search of the alienating contingencies of the present, of these tyrannies, obligations, necessities and servitudes of life which obliges you, which blinds you.

 

 

Sublimate the present art of the seraphic, perfection out of this world, of the Archangelic order, familiar with angels, orange-pink in an explosion of acidulous color, extracted from an opiate, with an improbable journey to limbo, to the heavens, to the 'Eden, in the Helios fields of the empyrean, in the heavenly realm of the ethereal spirits of the divine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Fragonard or

the innocence of gallant art

 

 

Your enlightenment is very inspiring, where the human soul is emphasized not without ingenuity to the lightness of being you are unparalleled.

 

All in light poetry, the subjects are suggested with delicacy, to see there the beauty and the light side of the scene without seeing there a scabrous or unhealthy subject which would remove his sparkling and insolent spirit. Like 18th-century society and gallant love, or the taste for pleasures and aesthetics of nature.

 

The charming taste for the fairer sex and its carnal pleasures drawn with taste and lightness.

 

We can guess with undisguised mischief the joys of gallant love.

 

Happy, Conte and Contessa, where women of low status indulge in the joy suggested by unexpected light scenes, the desire for eroticism assumed in complete freedom where an angelic innocence reigns.

 

An angel passes, or rather cherubs all baroque to underline the art of the time or the preciousness of this 18th century moralist and libertine.

 

Renoir pays homage to this dear frog in his paintings with this freedom, and this poetic lightness in the female eyes, his subtle and sensitive attitudes of the female soul as well as Jean Renoir son, director of the nascent French cinema, with extracts from the swings such in the major gallant paintings by Fragonard of his art.

 

As well as the impressionist painters who recognize in Fragonard, one of the first impressionists by his craftsmanship and the rapid touches of brushes.

Then Jean-Jacques ROUSSEAU, the romanticism born at the end of the 18th century when Fragonard rushes in, his painting evolves with more evanescent tones with subtle evaporated colors, his paintings become more serious, with lovers or the idea of marriage prevails , lovers in their fullness.

 

The romantic soul expresses an exacerbated sensitivity, an evil of living, a pronounced taste for passion, lyricism, the irrational, mysticism, dreams, imagination.

 

Or romanticism is not a school, but a current of sensitivity and thought which will find its apogee in its expression in the 19th century. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

      Resistance group FTP - ME

"France first"

The Resistance in Vichy and Jean MOULIN

 

 

The armed resistance against the invaders and the active "collaboration" of the Vichy government with the creation of resistance groups organized in the North in Paris then in the South Zone by the FTP and the AS (Secret Army) dear to Jean Moulin figure major opposition to the collaboration of Vichy and the invader this from April 1942.

 

“We are not heroes. We must not believe that we were not afraid. We resisted because we had the opportunity: no family, no work. And because we loved France. She had adopted us. But you have to imagine what state we were in. For my part, I did not eat. I couldn't swallow, I had a lump in my throat. I didn't sleep either and if, through exhaustion, I ended up sinking, I only had nightmares. At the end of the war, I was forty kilos. "- Arsène Tchakarian.

 

"The Call of the Sound of the Horn"

- Resistance in all these forms in the face of contempt, mistreatment, abuse of all kinds, slavery of all kinds, the social annihilation of the people and their enslavement, which is true in the 1940s is real now, even today, in other insidious forms of the submission of the people to the forces of money and the economic, political and social ruling elite… Stop, do not say !!! ...

 

 

The invader is no longer, but the collaborators or the authorities of the submission of the people have remained in place against the economic forces of king money ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hope, Despair

 

Life in pink, of multiple colors, fireworks, blue, pink, magenta, purple, bursts out on you like a flower bouquet. Gushing lights, shining with all fire, diffuses a multitude of nuanced impressions, a burning banner, radiates like a "rainbow" of strong emotional sensations.

 

Hope hangs on you to life, thread of life, without end, follows the hazards, the tumults, the joys, the obstacles of all kinds, you stumble, you fall, you get up again a thousand times, without ceasing, without giving up , life at all costs, the wrong doers, acrobat, juggler, balancing act on the thread of life, makes the obsequious outrageous, vile and servile lie, freedom for life, life on the whole, without ceasing, go from forward, overcome obstacles, never stop,

finally live !! ...

 

Despair, life tied up, nailed, imprisoned, life of renunciation, forget happiness, the convicts of the penal colony known for their labor, the task does not end, dark sky, led by cumulonimbus, altocumulus, cumulus, stratocumulus of all kinds overwhelms you, you plunge into the darkness, a monotonous black landscape, to the sadness of life which runs, thread in your hands, slips, escapes, thumbs your nose at you, laughs at you, mistreats you, abuses you, life is mocking you, torments you, like the announced storm.

 

 

A lull is dawning on the horizon, fatal fate, life is a comedy of joy and of tears, Casanova of spirit, fleeing the weights of Venice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

      The poet's waltz

 

 

The Poet's Waltz or the desperate race for love, and words too, such as Cocteau the Firebird with the spirit of freedom of reincarnated poetry, magicians in fantastic lands, from the unreal, runs to the philosophical love, sings the words, waltzes of poetry, of the enchanting world.

 

Tragic lovers transformed into a mass of stone, with the rose of the heart embalm the love of fleeing beings, with lost hearts.

 

The fantastic genius, with an extraordinary tale, with a poetic life, enchants supernatural poetry where life enchants, deceives the fatal life of the evil bewitchments to the tragic heroes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Renée Fleming - A. Golden Voice

Messiaen’s symphonic poem symphonique

 – Lyon Auditorium

 

 

A soft, golden voice that flies over the orchestra.

 

 

The very rhythmic conductor Alan GILBERT, with daring rhythmic gymnastics…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alan GILBERT - Auditorium de Lyon

Symphony n° 4  "Romantic" - Anton Bruckner

 

 

Bruckner’s flamboyance and velvet, a very rich music, full of warm contrast, the masterful conductor, all in great mastery of his effects and rhythms, personalities and respect for the work.

 

Bruckner a real journey towards the extraordinary, a world full of relief, dizzying in character, strength and velvety softness. The power is there, subtly played in all lightness, rich, sweet, silky in graceful embellishment, the 1st violins with great mastery, reminders to the striking work with gold ornamentation, the conductor pecks, gives rhythm , the powerful cadence. The reminders of the pleasant melody roll without fail ...

 

The horse runs, crosses a journey from landscape to landscape in dazzling progression, the conductor initiates power, intensity, force, deploys all the harmonics, leads his orchestra with flamboyance and luxury of musical precision, he takes the musicians to the fullness of the work, it is a luxuriant journey that takes us through the conductor, with a harmonic blow, resounds, reasons, bursts with power and firmness, attack the measure with dynamism, the melody becomes romantic, then changes into awakening and alert.

 

The conductor Alan GILBERT is at the service of the work, flies over the music to unsuspected heights, to extraordinary lyrical flights.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Culture Luxury essential and invaluable for Men and Women in this desolate world

 

 

Transcribing the emotions ... Art an inestimable good, the price for what it is, a better for the well-being, a good in a word for the culture ...

 

Culture has become a neglected thing, not a priority whereas it is an essential thing in the life of men and women, for their achievements, that of a lifetime .... And this above all else ... very priority, on the contrary ...

 

Culture for men and women is a unique thing essential for their well-being ...

Inseparable from humanity or this one then promised all humanity to the most terrible chaos that is, a most horrible dictatorship that is, and then, the preamble to the gates of hell ... Dante's hell reincarnated in this world !

 

Neither good nor bad, no morals, no reasons, life for the only thing ;

"Chaos, desolation, inhumanity, reincarnated monstrosity, the reincarnation of a mythological, biblical monster, the end of a world of culture to that of the most vile, the most tragic annihilation there is, the not to be, the evil incarnate of all hell, the destroyer of humanity, of its civilization, of its survival, in a word,

a total end… ”

 

The survival of humanity is at this price ... Life and culture...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The words...

The words escape the books never to come back ...

Go, I don't know where ?

 

 

The force of words enlightens us, dazzles us, questions us, astonishes us, transcends us, transports us to unexplored, unknown places, too fantastic, extraordinary horizons laden with poetry.

 

Words escape from books never to come back, leave, I don't know where, they are free electrons, without law, nor attach, do not belong to anyone, fly in people's minds, the seduced, the brands, run from spirit in spirit, insolent by nature, do not want to resign themselves, run to those who know how to catch them, escape, they are free, will never die ...

 

The poet of words is an adventurer, without fear, plays with the words to magnify them, a fantastic symphony which resonates in the spirits, an insolent melody, an endearing tune which sings, nourishes the spirit, fall in love with the words, reveal them , words seduce your heart, awaken your senses to better reveal them, your mind is astonished, attach themselves to loving words so as not to let go of them.

 

Words defy life, life is crazy music that never wants to stop, words defy us, question us.

 

Words are strong poetic beings, their lightness is soft cottony clouds in pastel colors, with sweet tastes, tangy like candies from our childhood, enchant us, announces enchanting dreams of a charming rosé, makes us love life, reconciles us with it, offers us a perfumed scent of sweet flowery romanticism.

 

 

The roses of love are poems of lovers are words of love which whisper in the ears of lovers, like cupid armed with his bow with poetic arrows poisoned by love, the words of love powerful elixir capsize hearts, words cross souls, to bind beings forever, words are irreverent, angry, unpredictable, unfaithful, detached, free ..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lyon Auditorium

 

An elusive place, majestic by its greatness of talents, palace of the arts of music, place of passage, of memory, of meeting.

 

An elusive place, majestic by its greatness of talents, palaces of the arts of music, place of passage, of memory, of the meeting.

October 2021, that day a symphony, that of Bruckner, Symphony No. 4 “Romantic.”

 

The orchestra this sets up, the very military hierarchy of the organization of a group of musicians with its strengths and recognition of each and everyone is there, like a concentrated society, at the culmination and completion of a work , master is the Alan GILBERT guarantor of the good progress, creator of this moment, clocked in working order.

 

It is a real journey towards the extraordinary, a world full of relief, dizzying in character, strength and velvety softness. The power is there, subtly played in all lightness, rich, sweet, silky in graceful embellishment, the 1st violins with great mastery, reminders to the striking work with gold ornamentation, the conductor pecks, gives rhythm , the powerful cadence. The reminders of the pleasant melody roll without fail ...

 

Riding it on the run, traversing a journey from landscape to landscape in dazzling progression, the conductor initiates power, intensity, force, deploys all the harmonics, leads his orchestra with flamboyance and luxury of musical precision, he takes the musicians towards the fullness of the work, it is a luxuriant journey that takes us through the conductor, with a harmonic blow, resounds, reasons, bursts with power and firmness, attack the measure with dynamism, the melody becomes romantic, then changes into awakening and alert.

 

The conductor flies over the music to unsuspected heights, to extraordinary lyrical flights.

 

In the first part of the concert was invited in personality with great notoriety, the soprano, American star with stripes, Renée FLEEMING, undisputed singer, in the musicians' room plays the symphonic harmonic poem by Messiaen, suddenly a soft voice and golden flies over the orchestra, this voice accompanies you gently, takes you towards the poetic path of music, the very rhythmic conductor, with daring cadenced gymnastics, directs the audience towards the marvelous.

 

Another talented and extremely virtuoso concerts of the transverse flute Emmanuel PAHUD, flautist and teacher. I met him for a while outside of COVID, or I took the pleasure of conversing with him, specialist in his art, in all the high places of concert halls in the world, he goes from concert to concert, in love and purists of so-called classical or baroque music, he performs and achieves a performance worthy of an Olympic athlete, he flies over the music, touches the gods, in the pantheon of unfulfilled happiness, art is very exceptional in a common monochrome life without colored nuances, salt of life, flames of the souls of beings.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Blue to the soul,

awakening from a dark dream

 

 

Heartache, soul wound, deep wound.

 

Love, an insidious disease in imperceptible doses of a sweet bitter poison.

Poisoned flowers with an enchanting scent intoxicate you to heady stubbornness.

 

With a bittersweet, semi-sweet, semi-salty taste, leaves you forbidden, like an enchantment upon awakening from a dark dream, to emerge from a dark dream, black magic that traps you in its spells ...

 

In the realm of the fairies, the angels of passions abandon love to their disappointments, to sad hearts.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Sands of Time

 

Sandstorms, silvery grains, with a thousand facets light up a life with the multiplied colors of a kaleidoscope.

 

Poetry of Time, hourglass of our lives where our hope flows grain by grain, from our youth to the dawn of our life, lights our way to self-fulfillment.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sands of life

 

 

I know that life is runs.

 

I know she runs like a thread of time, gallops, never stops.

 

I know that man is a being of time, creator of clocks and time, it is money ...

 

I know that everything is in order, with a chronometric measure.

 

 

I know time is elusive, slipping through our fingers like the sand of our life runs and flees.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Eyes of Love

 

 

Look of a woman, look of love.

 

Your heart speaks, your gaze says it aloud.

 

Secret, interrogative gaze, the mirror of the heart with an open heart.

 

In your eyes of love, I dive to never leave them.

 

Gaze, sparkling with a thousand silvery colors, that of the soul, your gaze and all is said.

 

Your silence passes through your gaze, the power of a woman, or the sweetness of the heart of love.

 

Your heart speaks of love, to be a woman, the feminine sensitivity in the twilight of the day unveils her being, woman, being of the heart with a thousand

paradoxes, that of the loved one.

 

Tender heart says the words, those of love that you dare not say.

 

 

Heart of a woman, oh! You my love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the days of silver stars,

in the heaven of angels

 

 

Your sweet face with starry eyes and the sadness of these days fill my heart.

 

You, my worried angel with a fragile heart, you sigh.

 

What to do when your heart is overwhelmed, saddened.

 

Your feelings are a bouquet of a thousand flowers of flaming rainbow colors, you wonder about the fate of uncertain days.

 

Your pure soul suffers crying for better days, keep hope.

 

To fight to win, to conquer, to keep a beautiful hope in the dead of night, to keep hope.

 

The days smile on pure souls, the good fairy of the evening star makes the hope of hearts shine.

 

 

You shine with love, you shine with love, your light soul hangs the beauty of evanescent hearts on the golden sky of starry nights, of sweet Christmas Eve, hangs your hope, on the sky stained with angels.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Requiem of your heart

Mozartian melody of enchanting loves

 

 

In search of your heart, heart in love with your soul.

 

Requiem of your heart, I love you, to the sacred music of your heart, to the highest of vibrant choirs, you are present in my heart, despite your absence.

 

The vibrant choirs touch the highest, resound in my heart, my love.

 

You haven't disappeared, I love you, like a Mozartian sweet melody, on the devastating, melodious violin, on the piano keys that resonate with those who know how to hear, love...

 

You my heart, I love you endlessly.

 

Open your heart my love, see to the highest, to the horizon of loving hearts.

 

I will conquer your heart, to prove my love, in search of your heart, of your smiling soul.

 

Yes, Oh you my love, I love you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Freedom or the announced tragedy,

of War, human folly.

 

From War, humanism dear to men of peace, the dove with an olive branch dear to Picasso, symbol of a renewal of humanity in his tragedy of an endless story of deadly conflict...

 

The black shadow of war, invaded the horizon, the world on the edge of the abyss, wavers, never to return, in the worst black hour of world conflicts.

 

Two facets, from shadow to light, the destiny of men in the making, for a positive change, utopian dream, seen from the mind or optimistic vision enlightened by a possibility where good will end up winning, defeating tragedy, get out of the depths of the abyss, into nothingness, be reborn to life, live, finally live free! Or the flight of humanity towards new luminous horizons, towards appeasement and cherished freedom.

 

Here is a positive vision, which the apprentice dictators sweep away with the back of their hands, develop crazy visions of the world, want to crush from their minds the lives of free men, of the free world, to sacrifice, to annihilate the happy hours of a reconciled humanity.

 

The power of totalitarian statesmen imprints their views, imposes their anxieties, their conscious or unconscious delusions at the expense of the lives of their betrayed, blinded people, the life trampled under the foot of monstrous tyranny, violent aggression to life, to the rosy happiness of carefree living.

 

 

The winning life forever, make the impostors of life in blue look ridiculous, win again, constantly, never give up, yes to life, to the happiness of living, to the life of peoples freed from didacts, yes to live at last, hope in humanity reconciled, freed from its chains, free...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

War instinct, war crime,

The Makers of Death or the Black Tragedy

 

“Z”… War crime… War machines, murdered, false promise to the world, to scare, fear of a nuclear holocaust…

 

Soldiers as liberators? Those who invade a country are not welcomed as heroes...

 

A die-hard dictator in a deadly war, invading a neighboring country, a war to totally destroy everything, violence is unleashed, annihilating even man.

 

A lying nationalist dictator, manipulator, bad street boy "child", war or the danger of nationalism, propaganda, misinform his people to blind them, "they are not the invaders, they are being attacked by Ukraine, bombed by Ukraine ? »

 

Does the truth no longer make sense ? A dictator locked in his certainties? What truth or Ukraine on fire, a bruised, starving, murdered people, annihilation for the only truth! The war for nationalist logic of the oppressor, criminal.

 

On The 17th day of the war, the tanks fire on the buildings of the city of Odessa, kill the civilians, the tanks against the people...

 

Forgotten People, lead his country to death, in a word are the dark designs that all the dictators weave in their paranoia or exacerbated madness, their iron wills towards and against all, especially against even the only reason, beyond from reason towards murderous bloodthirsty unreason, this in order to satisfy a single insane objective, their madness and blind black criminal ideology, the tragedy takes shape towards an extreme violent drama.

 

Terrorize with monstrous inhuman weapons ? Total annihilation through destruction.

People rise, Ukraine. A war for the fatherland. A war against Ukraine, a war against all of Europe.

A drama at the end of horror? A war against the world, ready for all horrors to terrorize, eliminate opponents, humans ?

 

Europe in the face of war, a dictator who steals our dreams, steals the dreams of children, a blind autocratic dictator capable of anything… Without limits… ?

 

The challenge to the West of the dictator… The war…

May 9, 2015 - The dictator: “For peace, for the peace of states? Hooray! Hooray! – in the Red Square in front of the Russian military parade…

 

The “standoff” of war, a losing war, towards the failure of Russia in the face of the determination of the Ukrainian people, a nation in arms, to defeat those who face the invader’s war.

 

Survive day by day, still hold on for the day that will come to be there, say no, resist, then face the horror, the unspeakable.

 

Negotiate with the invaders, even with a dictator at the end of the war to preserve peace, life, the world...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

«Z»… Военный инстинкт, военное преступление,

Творцы смерти или Черная трагедия

 

 

«Z»…Военное преступление…Военная машина, убийство, ложное обещание миру, испуг, страх ядерной катастрофы…

 

Солдаты как освободители? Тех, кто вторгается в страну, не считают героями...

 

Стойкий диктатор в смертельной войне, вторгается в соседнюю страну, войне, чтобы полностью уничтожить все, развязывается насилие, уничтожающее даже человека.

 

Лживый националистический диктатор, манипулятор, плохой уличный мальчик "ребенок", война или опасность национализма, пропаганда дезинформирует свой народ, чтобы ослепить его, "они не оккупанты, на них нападает Украина, бомбит Украина? »

 

Истина больше не имеет смысла? Диктатор, запертый в своей уверенности? Какая правда или Украина в огне, израненный, голодный, убитый народ, уничтожение за единственную правду! Война за националистическую логику угнетателя, преступника.

 

17 день войны, танки обстреливают здания города Одессы, убивают мирных жителей, танки против людей...

 

Забыть Народ, привести свою Страну на смерть, одним словом, это темные замыслы, которые плетут все диктаторы в своей Паранойе или обостренном безумии, их железная воля ко всем и против всех, особенно против даже единственного разума, сверх разума в сторону кровожадных убийств. неразумно, это для того, чтобы удовлетворить единственную безумную цель, их безумие и слепую черную преступную идеологию, трагедия превращается в крайнюю жестокую драму.

 

Терроризировать чудовищным нечеловеческим оружием? Полное уничтожение через уничтожение.

 

Народ встает, Украина. Война за отечество. Война против Украины, война против всей Европы.

 

Драма в конце хоррора? Война против мира, готового на все ужасы терроризировать, уничтожать противников, людей?

 

Европа перед лицом войны, диктатор, который крадет наши мечты, крадет мечты детей, слепой автократический диктатор, способный на все… Без ограничений…?

 

Вызов диктатора Западу… Война…

 

9 мая 2015 - Диктатор: «За мир, за мир государств? Ура! Ура! – на Красной площади перед российским военным парадом…

 

«Противостояние» войны, проигранной войны, к несостоятельности России перед лицом решимости украинского народа, вооруженной нации, победить тех, кто сталкивается с войной захватчиков.

 

Выживайте день за днем, ждите дня, который придет, говорите «нет», сопротивляйтесь, а затем столкнитесь с ужасом, невыразимым.

 

 

Ведите переговоры с захватчиками, даже с диктатором в конце войны, чтобы сохранить мир, жизнь, мир...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 War Poetry –

"Freedom of the Mind"

 

The very famous "Que la Guerre est jolie" by the Poet Guillaume Apollinaire, emblematic of his work, tells us his personal feelings about his experience of the 1914 war in the trenches...

 

My poetry of War, War, bloodthirsty, greedy, blood-red beast

brightly colored.

Preserve Peace for the good of humanity, hope in the azure sky in the blue sky of hope and cherished Freedom.

To the songs of laughter of the children of our dear schoolyards, where the nice rascals are shouting with joy.

The carefree and spontaneous joy of children and the glimmer of hope of peoples, the joy of living as a family, the well-being of a society that celebrates life, the tranquility of living rosy in the hearts.

Keeping your "Freedom of Spirit" dear to free women and men, keeping your independence of mind in the white-stained sky of virginity and happy carelessness.

A hymn to peace celebrated by artists from all walks of life, war betrayal of beings, monstrous beast of the impious.

War, state treason, monster, massacre of the Innocents, organized murders of civilians, cynical, tyrannical, vile, infamous, sordid warlike state.

War of the aggressors, thirst for death, our free spirits are inviolable, thirst for freedom, light as the dove with an olive branch to embrace the free world...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"In the sky of your heart"

Find you my love.

 

 

Looking for your love, forever.

 

You my love in the sky of my heart you illuminate my being.

 

On the day of your heart, I'll be there loving, close to you, close to your heart.

 

The loving day, I would conquer your being, in the eyes of your soul, in the joys of your being.

 

There in the sky of my soul you shine forever close to my heart.

 

With a happy heart, you are my beauty by day, you shine forever, you shine endlessly, you are the joy of my heart, my love.

 

Your infinite gaze shines on the horizon of pure souls, you embellish my life.

 

 

There a flower with colorful petals opens at daybreak, floods a perfume of love, sets hearts ablaze, being of love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alain Bonnefoit

"The Art of the Feminine"

"Desire for Beauty"

Expo Paris-Moscow -

  www.gartallery.com

 

Alain Bonnefoit, an accomplished art, the quintessence of the feminine being.

 

Pure sensuality, with the sweet scent of feminine beauty, with the slightly underlined features of the fine curves of the unvarnished body, exults in revealed beauty, in the lightness of being and eroticism.

 

Evocative power of bodies in action that say more than words.

 

The bodies are magnified in their pure state, without false modesty, what the body dares not say, the art is there, from a brilliant reserve of means in all simplicity.

 

The beauty of bodies in a burst of colors.

 

 

A full mastery of feminine sensuality, a culmination of the art that celebrates the feminine, without having ever dared to say so...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Lightness of Soul",

woman's heart

 

The heart of women or the lightness of being, women to be passionate, with a loving heart, thirsty for feelings, for love, you love without restraint.

 

The lightness of loving smiles at you, you fly with love, in search of the loved one you hope for so much.

 

The female soul is a precious crystal that must be protected.

 

The female soul flies high in the deep blue-azure sky, embraces you to keep you in a bright sunbeam burst, up there closest to the stars of pure souls.

 

Up there, love has its laws, of a growing, dazzling love, luminous with hope.

Woman be of love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Human peace, freedom

Passing remember...

The call to resistance, France.

 

1939-1945 The age of men's misfortune and its anthology of everyday heroes at the call of resistance, of the popular uprising of the nation freed from the yoke of Nazi horror and oppression, remember.

 

At this moment in history which is reflected in our urgent news of the war of the oppressor's Ukraine and its horrors is thought to be gone in Europe forever...

 

The destiny of a man or a few, such as General de Gaulle, Jean Moulin, Winston Churchill alone against all, this is the destiny of the great men who make the turns of history, to oppose accomplished destiny, to ineducable to overthrow, alone with their beliefs and their moods and their unusual personalities.

 

Refusing tragedy, reversing the thread of fate, not believing in the worst, saying No!

 

Say No to Human Injustice! Believe in peace and justice, freedom...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                         The Anxieties of the World

 

 

To the writers who have succeeded, with each of them, a common feature, they wonder about their concerns of the world, their societies and their mores of the present time. So much for summarizing, writing, disease.

 

So much for summarizing, writing, and disease. Oh ! How much, creative and saving for the body and the spirit of the men, of a company, the writers and poets, brought to the literature and the poetry, the art of the words, for a revolution of the spirits.

 

The end of the 20th century rid of the horrors and tragedies of the world ?

 

The world has not changed at the dawn of the 21st century, with an announced revolution in new AE techniques, revelations of quantum physics in all fields, the world is opening up to extraordinary new perspectives, still not evaluated technologically, will it be preserved from the tragedy of humanity, from a fatal outcome for ecological life or total destruction, we can resolutely and necessarily, question ourselves on this fact !

 

Towards what opens this hoped-for 21st century towards a pacification of minds and mores?

 

The misfortune modern anguish, human tragedy, ecological, attack on life? Or will the 21st century resuscitate the world, from its planetary ills and its deadly alerts to biodiversity, in a word, a definitive fatal attack on life? What will happen, we are at a point of no return like the underlined questions that make sense by a man of science and thinker, Aurélien BARRAU – (Astronomer, physicist, university professor, cosmologist, philosopher, poet, astrophysicist, researcher).

 

The world on the brink? Humanity driven to its last extremities ?

 

The destiny of the world, a continuous stream of conflicts, battles and bloody wars in the future, or appeasement, a forced agreement for an obligatory destiny of the world, democratic or not, for the salvation of the survivors of a wavering

humanity ?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sensation

(Sponge Poem after Rimbaud )

 

 

By the deep souls of intoxication, I wander in the hearts of the feelings, to reach the azure horizon: light, I love the music of it to my passions. I dream of a free body, my pink life.

 

 

I don't know, I don't think anything, but the invading storm strikes me down into infinity and I will fly like a butterfly, through beauty, hearts as with a mermaid.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After life

( Sponge Poem after Rimbaud )

 

Immediately the disgust of the conflict is tragically reproved.

 

A drama announces itself in tragic events and lives and strikes its violence bruised through the hatred of the other.

 

Oh ! Men armed warriors the crimes spread and the horror wins the dead are repeated and the immeasurable tragedy the words towards the end announced

up there as in hell.

 

The evil invaded in the minds, in the odious in the hearts, where the misfortune of our beings annihilates them. Blood and murder win.

 

 

Lives extinguished. The vile wars in the heads.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 The right to happiness

« Another world is possible… »

 

The right to happiness, “Yes we all have the right to happiness…”

 

At the beginning of the year in April 2022, the next days of the elections, we are all entitled to happy days, must we repeat it, once and again, at will for it to be heard...

 

After the yellow vests, the 2-year period of imposed COVID misfortunes…

 

Yes, we are all entitled to happy days, to happiness...

 

Refuse what they want to impose on us, remember the restrictions imposed by COVID and its health laws, unbearable liberticides, this with lump sum fines or prison as a promise, for having wanted darling Freedom...

 

Severe restrictions that were imposed in advance, without asking our opinion or anything, No !!! ???

 

No to these liberticidal laws, to this authoritarian power in France, a shame, France, the so-called country of "human rights" trampled with a kick, suddenly, finished the right to freedom , Free, Free at last, Free to live with us, young or old, no prisons that we are promised at the slightest prank, obey with your eyes closed…, we say No! Just the right to happiness, the right to happy days, and not, for example for retirees, the promise of an unhappy life, the promise of nursing homes...

 

A peak, No? Just the right to happiness and happy days, for all social categories and not for a certain class, as Victor HUGO said: "The paradise of the rich is made of the hell of the poor"...

 

May this be understood in the high spheres of Jupiterian power, this is said and well said...

 

Thank you... and thank you once again for everything...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Feminine sweetness

 

The sweetness of your voice to the angels of your heart flies to the sky of your soul.

You, gentle woman of soul and heart, I love you.

Your soul is a multicolored rainbow of soul feelings and love.

At the sound of your voice, your soul resounds with multiple colors.

I love your golden and sweet voice, feminine sweetness.

 

In the sky of your soul, I will fly to your heart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Women of Letters, a very French distinction

to that of dear Marcel Proust

 

 

The beautiful French letters in the pantheon of talents and myths, with the honor of women through the ages such as Simone de Beauvoir, Colette, Duras, Sagan, Sand, Yourcenar, Madame de La Fayette or Madame de Sévigné...

 

Tribute to French distinction, homage to women in their characters and their diversity of opinions, and to be oneself...

 

The advantage of women, another point of view of the world, of spirit, and atypical diverse personality, the fight of women in the face of their time and their societies.

Being a woman is a struggle in itself from the point of view of a society of men.

Being a woman, another look and exacerbated sensitivity, society in the eyes of women, an asset, a French cultural point of view.

 

These women with their fantasies about life, like those of George Sand, Colette, Duras, Françoise Sagan.

 

The latter has a whimsical personality and life, like a character from Marcel Proust in the frivolity of things and being.

 

To be passionate like the muses of “La Recherche” with Albertine, the elusive being par excellence, the female hero in all her attachments.

 

 

As well as the other great female characters of Proust, high in color and distinction, from the rank of golden nobility, to that of slightly light women such as "the young girls in flowers" from the beach of Balbec, the theater wonderful, favorite of this dear Marcel or less frequented places to the taste of the scandal of the housekeeper or Monsieur de Charlus, "Jupien" to the landlord of the accommodation in the courtyard of the Hôtel de Guermante, to the sometimes even insolent character of Jupien vis-à-vis the Duc de Guermante, an eminent blood family of high nobility of heart…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Anne-Frank “ The Journal of Resistance ” –

Life with Hitler

 

A young girl in the neighborhoods of Amsterdam where everyone lives peacefully, life goes on despite her 40s when the war in Europe began with Hitler's Nazi regime...

 

Anne-Frank, a young girl of her awakened time, sees that with the German occupation fear is in the streets, the Jews are ruthlessly discriminated against, they are afraid for their lives. Life to change, the carelessness of life before no longer has its place.

 

His considerate father had foreseen the arrival of the Nazis, and had planned to use the unused spaces of the residence if necessary, to hide in case of urgent need.

Anne-Franck made her father cry when, after the war, he was able to read his diary and decided after careful consideration to make it known, within the reach of as many people as possible despite his daughter's undisguised criticism of her mother and everyday life. Which is related there, without false modesty.

 

Already in the first lines of her diary Anne-Frank warns us, on her person and on the pretensions of her writings of a young girl, to the maturity of an adult when it comes to relating her emotions and remarks on her life as an everyday teenager, her joys and her sorrows :

 

Saturday, June 20, 1942 –

“  It is a very strange feeling for someone like me to write a diary. Not only have I never written, but it seems to me that later neither I nor anyone will be interested in the confidences of a thirteen-year-old schoolgirl. But to be honest, it doesn't matter, I want to write and much more to really say what is on my heart once and for all about a lot of things. Paper has more patience than people: this saying came to mind on one of those slightly melancholy days when I was bored, my head in my hands, wondering in my apathy whether I should go out or staying home and where, in the end, I just stood there moping. Yes, it's true, paper has patience, and since I don't ever intend to have anyone read this hardcover notebook adorned with the pompous title of "Journal", unless I meet a time in my life a friend or friend who becomes a friend or friend with a capital A, no one will probably see any inconvenience. "

 

Her diary, as soon as her father made the decision to publish his diary, was quickly brought to the public and immediately had significant success, where people were moved by the fate of this young girl with a pen already of a stature of 'a writer.

 

Anne-Frank was deported with her sister, her fate was terrible, she witnessed the death of her sister before she also died in the Nazi horror camps.

 

Horrible life course for a young girl from a good family, with the quiet life that was promised to her as soon as Hitler came to power, which darkened the destiny of men and women throughout Europe with his tragic years of the Second World War.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Field flowers or

 the Buttercup of lovers with a valiant heart

 

On this happy day, I will give you this buttercup, my love.

 

Clinging to your heart, I will conquer you.

 

To the joys of my happy heart with the golden yellow shining on your face of love.

 

Buttercup of your golden eyes of love and heart.

 

My golden love, I will give you my valiant heart.

 

Your eyes shining with love reflect the golden rays of the heart.

 

On the sandstone paths of the beautiful countryside, I will pick the gold of your heart on a flower of love.

 

Fly like a butterfly, your love will fly high in the shining sky.

 

 

Flowers of love, I steal my love from your heart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of Heart and Love Sapphire

 

My heart is yours, my love.

With heart and love, I love you endlessly.

With heart and love, you fill my mind with you, with your tenderness, with your love.

Love of the heart, sweetness of feeling, truth of the heart.

Burst of the scents of the heart, volcano of a deep love, you shine.

The warmth of hearts invades the loving minds of lovers.

Life is the beauty of hearts and feelings with the scent of intoxicated hearts.

May joy dwell in you, intoxicate your sacred heart, truth of the hearts of chained lovers.

Your eyes remain the soul of your heart, loving your soul's burning feelings. 

The condenses high in the lush sky of sapphire red, gods of love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Letter to you

 

I am writing to tell you

To tell you things about love

To tell you things, I love you

To tell you your almond eyes

Your silky hair

 

When you arrived at the restaurant, you were there, arrived there, with your scarf in enchanting colors, your black blouse with openwork lace and light transparent veils, you are my princess, in the Orient of majestic Palaces.

 

Also to tell you words, words of tenderness, which flow in your ear, rock you with love, your eyes say love, you, your sweet voice to the world sweetened with love, you are my heart.

 

I am also writing to you to tell you your presence is magical, to tell you of the languor of the time that passes with you, your sorrows, your sorrows, your wounded heart, your fears, your desire, your desire for things, you, you are here i love all of it you are my joy your sorrows are mine my heart growing for your sweet clouds sweet pink like cotton candy you are my imaginary paradise of heart and soul 'love.

 

 

You with pink smiles and eyes, I am your rose, you are my rose of love with the heady rose perfume of hearts, I am yours, you are in life, the life that is there, in front of you, there, like a path of love of roses, with light pastel petals, a path that goes to the horizon ahead that never stops ending like the love I have for you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Your days

 

I got up this morning

I thought about you

You are on my mind and he is happy about it.

The moments we spent in the evening enchant me

I dream of you over words and my mind

You are in me

This morning I go to work with a light heart

 

The days that await are only happy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The memory of the past

 

 

In this multicolored place, with a rich past in memory, there in this estate of the park of Versailles, a man likes to find himself.

 

This place with majestic trees of a triumphant nature there are the rustic houses of the Versailles estate.

 

Houses with stone facades with well-structured roofs and typical Versailles bull’s-eyes with a well-marked style that resonate with the past of this emblematic place that is the Versailles estate.

 

It is here that this man comes there, this day is a day like many days at the beginning of the year in Versailles, rainy, it awakens the nature of these places.

 

A smell of humus, of heather earth invades its premises, a light mist in the morning is there to welcome you.

 

Not far from there is the Grand Trianon dear to Napoleon or De Gaulle where he had set up his office, set back from the hectic life of the city.

 

Here life seems slower, takes its time, its ease, time regains its space, to flow there peacefully.

 

 

A haven of peace, far from the world, to the violent excesses of the world and its murderous follies.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Poet love

 

Poet love, I love you, to you my beauty enchanted by the happy days of flowing life, fountain of love.

In the days of the loves of chained lovers, life is pink in the day sky.

Rose of love for you my love, I cherish you, to the life that is offered to us.

Joys and sorrows are only trials, to the joys of happy days past and future.

Parade the son of life, the fountain of youth, with the fruits of love.

Like on the first day of Adam and Eve who bit into the fruit of love.

To the loves of beings who love each other with love and fresh water.

Poet love enchants you, in the eyes of your radiant soul, shines in the azure sky of lovers.

My love, I cherish you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Be yourself,

a wish fulfilled

 

Life, be yourself, the road in front of you is a multiple with its vagaries, accidents of life, impediments and others of all kinds, despite its vicissitudes, you have to be in respect to yourself, keep your tastes and your knowledge or values do not compromise with the impediments of living, these imbeciles of life, stay on course and whatever may happen, follow your deep nature, go his way, towards yourself, straight ahead of this long road which is promised to us.

 

Stay positive in any situation, it is the intellect that will save you, respect its ideas, they will save you from the misfortunes of life.

 

Life will smile on you, when the time comes, live in peace and serenity with the simple joys of life.

 

This is what we could name in an overused word: "Happiness", the joy of living.

 

To remain yourself is to respect yourself, to live in peace with yourself and others, it is to fulfill a deep desire, to be yourself and to be loved for what you are, no more... no less...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 The female soul

 

 

Hair in the winds, gazing into the distance towards her lover...

 

The female soul is poetic and light, it is a simple thing, like life in short and the happiness of living, which is in a word, love.

 

In love everything is accomplished.

 

The woman is a treasure of tenderness and love, if life smiles, the life of beings is accomplished.

 

A happy woman with a liberated soul lives her joys and happiness.

 

In her attitude all is grace and beauty.

 

To the joy of having children that prolongs our happiness in life.

 

A recognition of our life.

 

The family is a joy of life to cultivate.

 

The female soul, in its purity, is the poetry of life...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Love, Hate, Hatred

from the other Celine

 

War and its laws, politics, what do right-thinking people think, post-war directives and order, the great revival, purification, collaboration...

Céline the hated man, with deleterious and acidic pamphlets.

We, post-war France with our mistakes and collective cowardice.

Why

 

 

 this hatred?

Nope ! Céline has no place with our academicians, right??

No sir, he has no place!

How sir?

So, our France under the occupation regime betrayed its betrayals, what about this dear Doctor Destouches, or known as the novelist Céline, what can I say?

No, he is not very honorable, is it better to forget him? He is not the honor of France, the great author of Voyage… No! Before ! Not anymore ! Shame on him. What more can be said ?

Do you believe that this man has little interest?

 

Well ! Nope ! He has some and very well, precisely, he says a lot about us, about what we want to hide! To forget ! Put it under the rug...

Céline is a revealer of our ambiguities, not quite "bad", good and bad, like this France occupied by a crushing Nazi order without remissions, diehard, ideology of death, under the symbol of the cross swastika…

What does this man, Céline, tell us all about us, or a part of us and even today about our present and current state of mind...

Céline is a troublemaker, he betrays the truth of our perverted souls, or those who have drifted...

 

Whom to believe in the political idea with Céline, it is a great upheaval of our souls, without political correctness, without far, he says it bluntly, without filters...

Celine's word would not be consensual, precisely because it is not that it has its share of truth.

Céline is a conversationalist, they say, for evil spirits, just a conversationalist...

He grumbles, growls, gets angry, denounces, he is in a bad mood, protests out loud, it's Céline...

 

It says a lot about us, about the French of that time, about the spirit of the time, about these mentalities and misconceptions of those times, about its errors and mistakes, some said no! It is to their credit, but the silent majority is Célinienne…

Yes, what we dare to see and say out loud, to hide behind good resentment, to hide our face from this France of betrayal...

 

Céline is in us, in love with beautiful things, women, and grace.

Makes us laugh with his visceral attachment to animals and his imperial cat “Bébert”…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Versailles

 

Versailles summer fire

 

To the banners of the King of these places

 

Majesty, Royal music

 

 

 

Shine, golden night of the court

 

To the drums of the king of the great century

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Beachside

to the Young Girls of Balbec

 

 

Burning sun.

 

Fine sand, running in sneakers, sliding, footprints along the edge of the water.

 

Long hair at the bottom of the back, multicolored Jersey, tanned skin.

 

Love in the sun, music, dance, the states of lovers on a summer evening.

 

Swimsuit, beach aunt along the beaches of Balbec, meeting Andrée, Gisèle...

 

A love of young girls to the pleasures and delights of Monsieur Proust.

 

Love has its laws, in the sky of the beaches of our dreams, in the idleness of summer vacations in love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Variations on Proverbs…

- The Perpetual Week

 

- To the teachers of pure souls, horror at the end of the road

- Naively believing in virtue, entering the kingdom of Hades

- The truth has no soul

- Justice is not synonymous with fairness

 

- Living happily and happily is suspicious or jealous

- Not believing is not a citizen or a religious

- Demanding, criticizing is not politically correct

 

- Ideas are dangerous, you have to follow preconceived ideas or be like everyone else

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The happy dreams, the joys of thought,

  to the real pleasures

 

 

Happy dreams, my sweet heart, your thoughts are dreams to be fulfilled, light as pink clouds fly away in the azure blue of the sky to poetize the world.

 

The joys of thought invade you, these dreams of sweet thoughts go to the real of pleasures, their accomplishments are to the good pleasures of life, the dream life, the happy life.

 

You in heaven of angels, you go into my heart in love with your eyes full of charm.

 

 

To the pleasure of the heart, my loving heart flies away in your arms to love you again and again, to the real pleasures, your heart fills my soul with your love, to the joys of life, life is the pleasure of love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The pink life, thirst for the ideal,

sentimental crowd, Live free.

 

La vie en Rose, thirst for ideals, sentimental crowd, Living free.

 

La vie en Rose, thirst for the ideal, let the dream life of angels be.

 

May the long-awaited life enlighten you with its fires, love and voluptuousness.

 

May the dream life of angels illuminate our hearts.

 

Sentimental crowd, our dreams are there, in front of us, that our dreams illuminate us, touched to the highest of our hopes and dreamed ideals, to live, to live in the blue of our souls.

 

Sentimental crowd, thirst for ideal, for the sweetness of life, far from all that we are offered, full of shelves, our dreams at the highest of our souls, life thirsts for ideal.

 

Thirst for ideal, we, we are unique, far from the perversion of the world, and its attributes with golden symbols, that our pure souls, preserve us, that the incandescent whiteness to the sweet dreams of our souls, flies away until heaven angels illuminate our freedom-loving minds.

 

To live, to live free, in the flight of the white dove, enlightens our pure souls.

 

 

The devil's share in sparkling colors, our souls are not for sale.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The dreamed part of the angels

or the soul of the devil

 

 

Where Ulysses delivered to the gods half-angel, half-demon, finds his way, delivered to the temptations of the vile incarnate demons, or black servants of the shadows.

At the edge of hell with dark designs, demons in all their forms weave their webs, on the lookout for prey.

 

The thousand-faceted demon presents the best light from his angels, inundates you with his words, honeyed, servile, and calculating in order to evaluate his attractive prey, with a thousand items.

 

The servant of evil pursues you with his evil intentions with a thousand faces.

 

The Devil with his attractions hidden behind a deforming mask, hypnotizes you with his bewitching powers, radiates in the black vapors a suffocating odor from the depths, evil incarnate like a ghost is there in front of you, lures you to the gates of the lairs of the incandescent demons of red and black, burning with a sharp and treacherous gaze.

The part of the devil, in the darkness resounds in you, in the den of hell, crushes you with heat, tries to chain you to the metallic noise, to make you a slave.

 

The part of heaven of azure-blue angels radiates in you, the evil spell cast with the red burning gaze of hell, watches you ready to lock you up, deep in the dark bowels of evil.

Preparing you for the thousand tortures of this black servant of hell with a thousand evil spells.

 

The dreamed part of the angels illuminates your path, you fly to the skies of cherished freedom, pure souls.

 

The dream life of angels, where men on earth fight to possess pure souls, the share of angels power against evil and the darkness of evil spells, angels sweep away, radiate evil, the darkness of perverted souls.

 

The part of the darkness of the souls, with the symbols or shines the golden metals, thirst for money and evil power, the black look betrayed their perfidious souls gnawed by the evil the stigmata of the devil transform them, oozes with a thousand evils, the body distorted with hatred, ignites his spirit and his soul burns in the thousand fires of hell.

 

Shouts its hatred, burns with impatience, tyrannizes you with its burning being.

 

The angels are there protector, extricating you from the clutches of evil incarnate, desperate for the project, vile and of influence and destruction incarnate.

 

Hell or paradise is not accidentally forgotten ideas, they are there present in you, evil is there incarnated with its demons and servants in all its evil forms.

 

In the sweet dream of angels, liberating, in soft colors, good souls, in a field of flowers in a thousand shimmering hues, happy, full of life, with an enticing scent, takes you to the highest of hearts, makes you vibrate with sweetness and pure souls to live in peace far from evil.

 

The angel in his incarnated whiteness, with a pure soul fights the darkness of evil perfidious souls, fight of the century of our time and civilizations without souls to the symbol of money and power.

 

Symbols and powers are the weapons of the devil embodied in beings, vile and evil spirits.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Love and Hate

 

The days of lovelessness, reason for the void of present days.

 

Woman, hatred, or betrayal what to say of those empty days.

 

What have you left or offered, the sad days its arrival at the displeasure of life.

 

In busy days, of a thousand desires and promises, what remains ?

 

Hate or love is in tune with your life, the arid and scorched lands of your contempt dry up our lives, the light in you is a glow that will extinguish the fires of love, love and hatred dwell in you.

 

Your heart darkens the days to come.

 

The arid deserts with dark winds move away to die far from hearts.

 

Your loveless heart fades, what did you dream ?

 

What are you doing ? Hate or betrayal, an endless life, the suffering of your love, your tragic disenchantment with the laws of your heart.

 

A thousand thoughts invade your heart that is nonsense, your thousand desires to live, burn your wings of the angels of love, cupid is no longer, the dream life of the angels is only a decoy, betrayal is law.

 

A bitter taste of incomprehension submerges in this darkened sky of hatreds and whims.

 

That life has reserved for you to have these ghosts of the misfortunes of life, sadness is in you, who are you ?

 

Too much fear and hatred invade your heart, prisoner of a sad life, a thousand resentment of hatred and love.

 

Life passes, loving souls are reconciled with sad life.

 

In the fields of pure souls, one day will come in the ripe golden wheat in the burning sun a soul which will cross the rich strands of its wheat, will leave a path in this flamboyant nature to hang a heart on the temples of loves of triumphant hearts, the world of love-red hearts.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Calella the beautiful

with starfish

 

At the edge of your warm sand.

 

A welcoming seaside town with a thousand desires.

 

Calella, you smile at your Iberian charm.

 

Laughing cities of your mansions in the Mediterranean style, you the charmer you amaze us with your thousand charms.

 

In the burning sun you have a thousand lives, in the charms of its inhabitants in the Spanish hours.

 

You the cactus house you amaze.

 

With a thousand Spanish charms, you seduce your visitors with the attractions of your endless streets.

 

At La Riera, dear "Ramon," dear Spaniard with a thousand smiles, you shine in your country of sunshine, bring your warm soul, long life to you.

 

In Barcelona the anthill in your cases and along the Ramblas, an artist at heart with works in fantastic watercolor colors.

 

 

Calella, your lighthouse in the evenings, watches over the city with the sparkling lights of the souls of sailors.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 The Cactus House

or childhood memory

 

 

To the memory of youth, the House of the Cactus, symbol of Calella the city cradled in the Iberian sun of the quiet life.

 

Old house with balconies and windows with traditional wrought iron painted green in the Mediterranean-style houses dressed in a multitude of various cacti.

 

House located in a small alley by the sea along the railway line, which surprises lazy tourists who pass there by chance at the corner of an alley.

 

Your memory enchants me, Calella the beautiful you know how to surprise and seduce your visitors with a thousand wonders.

 

Calella the beautiful, you amaze us, and we are in love with your memory in the burning sun of summer afternoons, you the magnificent.

 

You Calella you burn with a thousand desires and charm us with your welcoming beaches of warm sand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The women
or the hearts of their souls

 

"In search of feminine beauty, that is to say of her spirit and her soul..."

 

In the depths of the hearts of women's souls, born the saved heart of a little girl's soul, with childhood eyes to see life in blue, or the peace of hearts of a preserved childhood, a multicolored garden magnificent original of an authentic heart of a revived youth.

 

The hearts of women are of the authenticity of soul, with the immaculate purity of a sky fleeing the horizon.

 

Like Mozart's symphonies of "the abduction from the seraglio" imbued with joy and pain, gathered there all at once, hearts and souls, all feminine, to the feminine hero.

 

The hero in desperate search of the safeguard of a pure soul, to protect himself and take refuge there, to the tranquility of restless souls or the rediscovered peace of love.

 

Like Mozart, this hero in spite of himself, the hero of women, the hero of desperate loves with voluptuous and sumptuous melodies of sweetness of the all-female souls of being with the candor of a pure soul in the lost paradise of childhood.

 

In the evening sky shines an incandescent star in the firmament where reigns without law the spirit of women or that of the resuscitated Mozart, of the child prodigy and turbulent where nothing can resist his genius and this one towards the soul of women and his desires, all ingenuous women of a mind with features as quick as lightning.

 

 

Life of happiness and joy and childhood.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The abandoned place

memory, those of our lives

 

 

The beautiful days of life are the memories of happy hours, well filled, the happiness of life, are forever engraved in the hearts of men, anything else has little value in itself of a successful life , to the riches of a happy life without non-monetary prize.

 

The bottom of the memory resurfaces with the vagaries and trials of life, makes us doubt life and its deep meaning, we are a rock with the fragility of a foot of clay, life is law, we follow it without detour all its terms until its completion, its end.

 

Is life a sweet dream like a light watercolor in translucent colors with a faded glaze, life would be only a dream of an abandoned memory of our places of our chaotic lives, dented by the multiple repetitive tests, a life made of a non-linear path, made of various renunciations, various successes and failures of all kinds, life is resilient at our expense.

 

Life runs like the living water of a stream that swells the rivers to rush into the mouths of the seas and oceans, this is how life goes through countless branches that connects us to the reality of our lives, a journey of life, a path of a spiritual value in a way or our life of a thread goes to the sandstone of joys and pains, a path, that of our life.

 

Our human memory is made up of various and varied impressions which touch the heart and the soul, the soul of our lives, or the sky of our lives like a luminous summer sky, stars lit up in incalculable numbers, bring back the value of a life as tiny as it seems compared to the magnitudes of our space of our celestial universe with unknown limits.

 

Our lives are a reflection of our souls tinged with the colors of life.

 

 

Joy and happiness are the only values at incalculable prices that make us move forward in the face of the renunciation of the vagaries of our lives, the abandoned places of memory bring back all the value of life, its quintessence with the unknown taste of an earthly paradise. Only one who is at our fingertips.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The dream of love or

Versailles of the golden day

 

 

On a golden day in Versailles, a day of love, close to the heart, a young woman with eyes of love and soul, a budding love, a wave, a deep love of youth.

 

You with the bursts of laughter, the thousands of roses of my love, with the bursts of your eyes with the inimitable charming smile, the treasure of my sweet love.

 

Your eyes ignite passions, heart and love, in a word, I loved you without restraint, with a love without limits in the eyes of your heart, in the joys of your heart, in the bursts of your laughter, Florence , to lost loves.

 

 

Florence, like an icon, Florence, your soul floats in the depths of lost loves, your soul resonates in my memory, in the loves of youth, in the lost paradise of loves filled with melancholy, of a golden past, on the day of Versailles, love and heart, Florence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 The Lady of Autumn

or Versailles and Vivaldi

 

The musical summer arrives like Vivaldi, this distant Venice, from the horizons of lights to the paintings of Tiepolo, master of the arts of the flamboyant quattrocento.

 

The Renaissance and the fine arts and these thousand fabrics in amber and crystalline colors.

 

A young woman in the garden of Versailles, in the king's bosquets, there in front of the Grand Canal near the Neptune Basin, walks there in the green grass does not invade the red-brown leaves of Autumn leaves to the music of Vivaldi’s, fall, crowd from his feet the carpet of scattered leaves that unrolls there in front.

 

Bright red Autumn painting with lightning from the symphonies of Vivaldi's operas rich in the great hours of its places of history resonates in us, the trumpets of love sound, in memory of a day of Versailles and Vivaldi...

 

On the golden day at Versailles, the lady of Autumn, heart music of the four seasons with the accent of Vivaldi, a day of love, close to the heart, a young woman with eyes of love and soul, a love nascent, a wave, a deep love of youth.

 

You with the bursts of laughter, the thousands of roses of my love, with the bursts of your eyes with the inimitable charming smile, the treasure of my sweet love.

 

Your eyes ignite passions, heart and love, in a word, I loved you without restraint, with a love without limits in the eyes of your heart, in the joys of your heart, in the bursts of your laughter, Florence , to lost loves.

 

Florence, like an icon, Florence, your soul floats in the depths of lost loves, your soul resonates in my memory, in the loves of youth, in the lost paradise of loves filled with melancholy, of a golden past, in the Autumn day of Versailles, of love and heart, Florence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Venice the mysterious

of art and music

 

 

Sounds the 4 seasons with Vivaldi's Reasoning Summer.

 

In the great hours of the history of this Venetian republic with its accents of art, music and powers up to the flamboyant characters of Don Giovanni by Mozart seducing to that of a Casanova of "the story of my life » multiple life of its places, hidden life of the masks, to the tumults of the long-troubled festivals of this Baroque Venice which sounds the end of these elusive times in our age of reason.

 

In the hours of glory of a musical Venice of the great master of ceremonies Vivaldi in the early hours of the first opera or its birth precisely with Monteverdi's Orfeo, a major work of Western art.

 

To the works of the great masters of the Italian pictorial art of Tiepolo, Giorgione, then Titian, Tintoretto and Veronese up to Canaletto of these grandiose landscapes with skies of an inimitable blue with accents of the Grand Canal, luminous and masterful.

 

 

This Venetian Renaissance of all the cultural excesses and mores of that time, a city with a thousand amorous intrigues, princes; a myth, a legend, this Venice rich in its past, a pride in Western life and art that we would like to discover and see unfold before our eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Love,
Love forever

 

My love, to the birds in love, I fly into your arms to whisper sweet nothings to you.

My love, I love you endlessly, you are my love forever.

Your gentle gaze, your eyes illuminate your soul, with the secrets of love.

You my love, you question my heart.

Your dreams filled with stars, in the summer sky lit with a thousand lights.

Your hopes in your heart invade your mind, with sweet hopes, dreams come true, the protective angels will provide for it and more, the cherubs of love keep your sweet soul.

To the angels of the evening, run your sweet dreams, life flows like living water, joy and happiness are promised to beings who thirst to live in peace, reconciled from sorrows...

 

Light souls fly to heaven as angels to embrace plenitude, a simple happiness of hearts.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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