to fall leaves

--changing only as the leaves, falling, flying, turning, 
moving with the wind and against it
across empty parking lots searching, lost, but
just having fallen, again every season
find these colors fading and now and again--


rough winds disturb the poetry of the leaves

--they go with it thus,
let it take them far,
it has they'll fall, they have,
hit the pavement lightly,
lose sight of what was as it
wrecks havoc on what was coming into view
from above and despite-- and at the will
at the whim of your capricious nature--
like the seasons i've known them all

and at times i've even loved them
loved the rain loved them in that rain,
wind at times has changed direction,
and changed-- and
fallen-- still and standing
up against the wind, grasping on
to every last second of fading daylight

to fall, having fallen long ago 

and again and leaves to fall here

amidst fall and caprice-- and

the leaves fall, and the leaves change color,

and leaves--

change the color darkness seasons evolve

and wind, and nights and you become colder

and wind and color and early dusk and--

leaves-- and leaves-- to leave-- and fall--

to fall

•••

all photos by : c (my flickr)

(been super busy with the newspaper will write more soon!) 

x c

suburban nights on the edge of fall

 








just, you know...... where we find ourselves. in the midst of-- in the midst of season and sentiments that--

-- that when you change the lighting just like so-- seem like any other location yet like nothing else, and nevertheless, it's...... what we've got right now, so what we must come to appreciate in small details such moments of delight, and light that often blurs as heads turn and headlights-- cars pass, eyes close in frustration as minds turn blank lulled by the mundane sound of the same steps in the direction we're always headed. and with any small drop of luck from that fountain in the middle of the over-used, crowded strip mall where kids run around without proper parental supervision and parking lots are battlefields where the one spot that's left empty is where you discover the guy next to you parked way over the line and your s.u.v. just will not fit-- but with any drop of luck from that out-of-place, ornate copy of a spanish, andalusian-esq fountain smack dab in the middle of this suburban strip mall, any coin you manage to pick up rather than step over and actually wish on a toss, you will come to find a drop of acceptance, no, even better--- you will see, or at least catch a glimpse of what i'm really doing and if nothing else, appreciate my attempt to capture light in what we have here, to appreciate what we're participating amongst, the bigger picture, and to know (at times) that the coin you --just this time-- didn't step on but instead tossed in the fountain on a wish, to almost believe that the light and focus, the changing seasons and perspective and colors, just might-- could-- will--  bring us just a splash closer-----

so ya, suburbia.

see my suburban dust flickr album!


x c

News in (big) print

So now that I’ve got my age-appropriate glasses on (wink wink from behind the drugstore reading glasses that I tried on here and here and in the blurry process found out that 30 wasn’t exactly the right moment— at least for my eyes and this accessory— though they seemed so happy together) nevertheless it’s time to be serious and get down to business. And ok, I’m not sure if this counts as serious or business but you know how I have a writing program for kids (if you didn’t know that, check out their blog : writing from the rooftops) well now I will be starting a school newspaper with them! It’s already become a lot of work and yesterday we had our first official ‘meeting’ and— wow—

—but I mean, it’s going to be great, I just have to really get it organized. The cool thing is that, not only are the kids exceptional at writing, but the ones who I’ve already been working with (that you know and love : Abby, Pyper, Olivia ..perhaps.. if we can tear her away from the junior high saga I got her to start writing which documents life at her new middle school, and Raquel who you’ve yet to read much about, but will—) are now assisting me with the newspaper operations. And that’s pretty cool. They helped me run the first meeting and explain the elements of the newspaper to the interested students who came to find out what the newspaper was all about.

The girls were really enthusiastic and there to make sure everyone understood what was going on...a prime example of this came when were sitting in front of the rest of the kids and some of their parents at this initial introduction newspaper meeting, these talented, enthusiastic, helpful aforementioned girls decided to impersonate ‘Chantal’ for the crowd just so they could get to know me (this hadn't really come up before when we'd discussed what we'd do in the meeting...), so Abby took my big dark sunglasses off my head and wore them on her little face and crossed her legs under the table and made a face that I'm almost certain I never make and Pyper started writing like crazy in my notebook and Raquel reached for the multitude of bracelets on my arm that she told the rest of the group I aaaaaallllways wear... and the meeting kind of progressed like that..... so I just said something like, wow guys it sounds like you all have a lot of newspaper ideas to talk about, so why don’t you just do that now and I'll walk around and get to know you, now that you know me—

—but they are full of personality and energy and ideas and passion on and off the paper. After the meeting and before we locked up the classroom I captured some of it as I was watching Pyper dance in front of the fan...talk about charisma, just look on my flickr, none of these photographs were posed, that’s how full of life these girls are. And they really bring something into mine. So perhaps this newspaper is going to be a lot more work than I signed up for, but the potential words (and photo ops with my new cute little blue camera the Algerian gave me that’s way better than reading glasses from the drugstore as a gift at 30) are too good to miss. And so, it might take a while, but we’ll be there— to get those moments in print (...and I just might need those reading glasses by the time we’re done!)

x c

sunday comics--

he's mr.
So and So
and i'm ms.
I Think You Know

music boxes 
kindred spirits
sunday comics

and 
i knew 
the words



 

sunday comics 
with Linus.  

yes, THAT Linus. 
who else.  

yes really, the REAL Linus from the peanuts cartoon strip (minus the blanket, he left it in the car) the most amazing man you ever did meet-- cartoonist, painter, writer, thinker, joker, smooth talker, my mentor, sunday lunch date, partner in crime and pen pal.... ....Linus doesn't have a computer, or an email address, he doesn't use the internet and still draws his cartoons by hand and submits them in the post.. so we send each other good old-fashioned letters. "we're the exception" he announced with a grin to me and everyone else at the lunch table this past sunday, referring with pride to our out-dated habit of correspondence via handwritten letters sent in the mail.

Linus has been a mentor to me in my writing and in every other creative endeavor i've attempted. he's also just somehow always been there letting me know it's ok to see things in a different light, to try things another way, and to live a life that others might never really understand, he supports me as i attempt to discover what to do with all the extra details i continue to notice about this world.

he told his parents he wanted to be a cartoonist at the age of six. he used to wait on the porch for his father to come home from work every night with newspaper in hand, so that they could read the comics together. he worked with charles schulz (creator of the peanuts comic strip) and reminds me all the time that schulz used to tell him that even if he wasn't paid to draw the peanuts comic strip, he would have done it every day anyway, that's how much a part of him it was, that's how much it meant to him. and i got it. so did Linus. 

at the age of 83 he's still working hard and has made his living as a clever cartoonist, a brilliant artist (his paintings are fantastic) and a colorful comic on and off the page. So ya, this Linus is real. Just wish he could read my blog, i've showed him a few times how to access this internet thing, but it was just an art from another time that he didn't seem to grasp, so instead i'll print it out and send it to him in the mail.

sunday comics--

x c

photos : by c

more sunday comics photographs : flickr

last time i mentioned Linus : here

trying on the reading glasses at 30

had a dinner party last night in the warm still summerish air of the candle-lit backyard, in the company of a few good friends from college and paris who i don't get to see very often, the algerian, and my parents (my mom planned it as a surprise thing for my bday today) it was really nice, really good friends, really good conversation, really really really laughing. really.

 

and i figured since i'm 30 now and people seem to think that's a big deal and old, that i should act old and look old, so i should maybe wear my mom's reading glasses (the drugstore kind) i mean, 'old' people wear reading glasses right? ;) so i wore them all night i can't say they (the glasses) made it easy to see when walking around, especially outside at night... but i suppose like all things... like this new age..new decade... i'll get used to it. and on the bright side, i am excited for the potential of a new accessory--- and if all else fails, i'll wait another 10 years and try again...

x c 

(check out the full story on my flickr!)

photos : by c (flickr)

just wanted reflection : got life reflected

(six word story)

...during photo shoot with my photographer friend cristian el chico de camisa morada, i might just have convinced him to start a little photography somethin' with me... it's in the works. so what you think about that! (but he needs a blog... right?)

(more) photos : by c : here

x c

the weight on my shoulders : now in color

the other day i bought that orange purse
the one i was wanting
the one that was too expensive.
and i don't know--
yet
why or how--
because i know
clearly i know--
an object
a purse
can't change the world--
but merely hold the money that
won't buy you happiness--
but somehow--
the other day i bought that orange purse
and the weight on my shoulders is now in color

photos : by c
(more here)

any time you need a smile just look at this photograph : and have a good weekend

then—
her laughter
shattered my silence—
a faint light
flickered in darkness
as pieces of her laughter
fell—
sparkled
--reflected
danced—
touched me
--gently
let them fall
laughter
and her eyes big
–gleamed with
something else to
tell me on another day
as her nose scrunched
and the corners of her mouth
could no longer contain
her laughter

(for abby)


 photos : by c
(for more visit my ever-growing fickr)

bon week-end x c

science is the new black (now a series)

so until my smart science sister has that science blog of hers i told you about up and running (yes it's still in 'development' phase) i'm going to do my own version of vague-she'll-laugh-at-me-science-ish posts until she finally can't take it anymore and gets so embarrassed for me that she just decides on a title for her authentic science blog, registers it, and writes her first entry (which, by the way, i encouraged her to write about when she recently explained to my parents how to make a home-remedy disinfectant using a bottle of vodka-- or at least-- that was the story they gave me when i found the empty bottle of really old vodka on the kitchen counter, that's what they claimed to have used it for.)


and since science is the new black, today my vague science-ish topics will be as follows :
(because i personally believe that in science organization and lists are probably important)

• the book my sister is reading
• a quote from darwin (that i got from my sister)
• the effects of medications on creativity (a personal anecdote from yours truly)



the book my sister is reading right now sounds fascinating, i'm actually dying to read it. and that never happens when she's reading about proteins or cells. this book literally combines our two passions, our two ways of looking and thinking and understanding, our two worlds of thought-- literature and science, poetry and uh-- you know-- science... just kidding. but seriously it sounds like an clever and involved book that she will read slowly and digest every detail and i will read sentence by sentence and get such inspiration with each sentence that i'll stop to write for a day and them come back the next day to read the following sentence. the book is called proust was a neuroscientist by jonah lehrer a young writer who has now got my attention. i'm going to pick up this book in the next few days.



next on our agenda is something i keep thinking about, and she (my sister) keeps thinking about -- and i'll let you think about it now. it's her 'status' online, a quote by darwin. read it. over and over.

"it is not the strongest species that survive, nor the most intelligent, but the ones most responsive to change"

charles darwin

and lastly, since we're discussing neuroscience and change, we can touch on the recent happenings in my headache saga. this new treatment i've been on (aka the reason for my blog absence, twitter disappearance and unprecedented block of the writing kind) is an anti seizure medication, the latest method in migraine prevention. but here's what i've noticed. (other than the obvious side effect of losing my thoughts in mid-sentence-- everything just goes on pause--- the ideas and words evaporate and i completely forget what i was saying) it's as though it has literally stopped the 'seizures' of thought, of passion and inspiration in my head. let me insert here, poetic surges of inspiration and passion and thought, because other things like focus on work and developing curriculum for my writing students has increased, productivity and creativity in this area has expanded, but where, i keep asking myself, are my desires to immerse myself and wade out too deep in poetic words and flashes of haiku that stop every other happening in the world, every other thought, poems that come over me like-- (see this is where the words would have come over me, or simply flowed from my fingertips and metaphorically showed you the arrival of the poems, instead, there's a pause--- a slight hollow buzz) or perhaps i'm putting too much pressure on myself and i'm still in the adjustment phase. i know. the words are in here, but perhaps a seizure of words isn't so bad every once in a while, when all of a sudden i fall down because this idea hits me like-- well like-- well-- you know--

the first in the science is the new black series : here : the beginning of the end some might call it, my sister might call it etc...

x c

classic.

somehow opened up to this article in the paper (no kidding, the real newspaper) the other day. the san francisco chronicle features classic articles from years (and years and years) past... i thought this one from june 3, 1963 by stanton delaplane was really great.

Chronicle Classic :
Delaplane flying high

The new TWA polar flight is nonstop from the U.S. West Coast to Paris, France. 

It takes 10 hours and 5 minutes and is crammed with so much passenger activity that everybody must work hard and seriously to accomplish his task before the wheels touch down. 

Each passenger is expected to eat a five-course luncheon and a six-course dinner. Between these he must view a full-length feature movie. He should - TWA expects every man to do his duty - precede each meal with an appropriate martini. 

The airline surveyed martini drinkers recently. It found West Coast lushes were ordering the bottled Heublein's martinis. Then they would order a straight gin. They were spiking their martinis. 

Therefore, TWA ordered West Coast martinis mixed at new odds of 16-to-1 - gin versus vermouth. Two of these and the stewardess resets your controls to automatic. You are no longer considered fit to fly yourself. 

On the west-to-east crossing, the movie is a late, late show. The jets simply eat up time. So you go to the movie in the afternoon and you get out in the middle of the night. 

Coming back the situation is reversed. 

You start lunch at midday. And when you finish it is still noon. 

This is very confusing and TWA is justly proud of it. It is not only on its toes with competing airlines. It is way ahead of the passenger.

(article continued-- full version-- and other classics : here)

found the peace i was holding

photos : by c

x c

any corner

staying out of the lines it really doesn’t matter where blurs blush turns to look could have happened anywhere any corner but this in passing and now--

photos : by c

why isn't it just a waste of time

the answer in your
hands puzzle pieces-- if this--
or-- this-- but you know--


haiku : by c : chandeliers on the floor
photos : by c : flickr

science is the new black

my sister is starting a science blog.

no— wait— don’t stop reading this— don’t run away or fall asleep!!! it’ll be good stuff, her target audience is people like me— a science blog with info that your average everyday chantal would come back to and actually want to read more of : science issues that concern, interest and touch all of us, and written by this incredible mix of charm and brains, serious focused concentration and loud music. she's one part laughter : one part nerd : one part shopping (yes nini i realize that’s three parts.)

so she called me for help and inspiration with setting up the blog. last night we were on the phone for two hours figuring out all the details— and by all the details i mean just the name of her science blog !!!! uuuuggghhh you precise methodical science people (hi nini thx for reading today love you) then she decided to sleep on it and figure it out in the morning. so if anyone needs a list of about 40+ science-y blog titles (but with charming creative hard-sought-after twists) just let me know......... and i will be sure to let you know when she finally types in that carefully crafted title and proceeds to the next step in the process of creating her blog. we may have to pull an all-nighter when it comes to choosing the blog colors (love you nini!)

and if you’re wondering, her name’s janine, i call her nini. you just don’t find many nerds as cute as this one...... she talks about cells and proteins with so much enthusiasm and genuine enjoyment— the same way i talk about clothes or coffee or haiku... but she also genuinely loves what she does, as i love words and writing, and she wants to find ways to make areas of science more accessible and enjoyable to others. this blog will just be the start of her attempt, and i’m sure i will have to learn a thing or two!! she’s also a fantastic cook and quite a mélange of health-conscious (understatement) gourmet (yes, oxymoron— gourmet grad student, but she is) and plans on sharing recipes and food tips on the blog as well. if the title ever gets through the final selection phase, i’ll let you know, cuz she’s got a lot on that plate.

and hey, maybe with her help science will be the new black. hey! that’s not a bad name for a blog.... science is the new black i’m gonna call her right now. i’m sure she’ll veto that one too... ;)

x c

"facts are not science --

as the dictionary is not literature."

martin h. fischer

photo credits 1 : jerry yoon 2 : chantal (aka c)

scribbling what i know

scribbling words spilling coffee cleaning up my messes scribbling coffee spilling poetry on napkins. i write.
leaving traces of haiku on scraps of paper everywhere and working with young writers inspiring them through their own words



photos : by c

my haiku blog : chandeliers on the floor
my new and old photos (suburban dust / parisian stuff / etc.) : flickr
in the words of my students : writing from the rooftops

blink-- you'll miss it

photos : by c

the sun set sky blushed
over busy streets wires crossed
birds sang traffic-- slowed--

in this light--

photos : by c

in time-- in words in
silence --in every hour years
light dark eyes and will---

the tunnel, the end, in this light--

photos : by c

well, maybe i used to have a really different sort of life a few years ago, the kind where people still tell me, wow that's the kind of life i only dream about, what was it like, it must have been amazing. and sure yes it was. these days i don't even mention it anymore. time to-- because-- you see, between that and the world constructed in my mind through creativity and words, and from behind these headaches and sunglasses, i haven't seen much of reality. i haven't even looked at what's right next to me because none of it even resembled what i thought it would or should or-- or what i thought i knew i wanted it to look like. the life i was supposed to have. and that probably sounds familiar and i guess they say it never is or does or will--

photos : by c

and then i just sort of-- after all this time, started taking pictures everyday of every day with my old, temperamental digital camera. we have an on-again-off-again relationship in that it only actually takes pictures on occasions, when i hit it or shake it or when it's not telling me 'memory card error' or 'corrupt data' or when i can at least identify who is in the blurry photos. but it works. sometimes. and in these photos i've captured-- there's simplicity in the perspective, change, colors, fade, or focus. seeing things in another light or if nothing else-- trying 'in this light' and muting the shades of my words, to the simple, the corners of my world right now. corners of my mind and the corners that i've discovered right here, i was perhaps even hiding in them, and now i see, i don't have to go anywhere and they are taking me somewhere completely different.


photos : by c

it's been three years now since i moved back home from the five years of my life that i spent in paris but you won't see any pictures of eiffel towers these days, just cars and pavement buildings and suburbs for now and hours that glow when you really can't tell where i am or where any of us are. and i'm not looking away from these photographs anymore because they're even better in this light-- this isn't to say that i've figured it all out and everything is suddenly perfect for me, because you should have seen me yesterday, but i have my good moments, i don't think that the light at the end of the tunnel was just the flash of my camera, i think you were there with me and actually we both could have seen it but we just didn't-- too busy hiding in the shadows. and really, everyone has pictures of the eiffel tower, so in a way our subtle every day photos are most spectacular because no one else has captured lived laughed or written the moment in this exact light.



x c

--under construction--

not the blog, just my mind.

it's rather simple. like the old nokia cell phone i've reverted back to using in the past few weeks since my smaller more socially acceptable cell phone died. wires crossed uncrossed and now at rest. a little over a month on a new headache medication and the world seems to have slowed, calmed, nearly emptied-- through this view out the same sunglasses i always wear, it's in a light i've never seen before. simple. just phone calls received, dialed. text messages-- not enough memory to save the ones from last week so just delete and start fresh. a familiar phone-- so old i think it's probably back in style-- remember the old nokia you could drop in the gutter and take in the shower and spill coffee on and step on or drive your car over and it never broke or stopped working-- it's that one, and it works perfectly and it makes me laugh when i use it and it's easy. it's simple. {abby one of my young students thought i accidentally brought my house phone to the cafe the first time she saw it! she still calls it my house phone} but you know what, it works better than any of the fancy mobile phones i've used for years and it's reliable. the reception is unbelievable and the battery never dies it's suddenly everything i needed.

as i've often mentioned i've been battling chronic headaches for years and going through a series of new medications and treatments. the latest approach was the most drastic, and i've found some headache relief, but all at once everything else seemed to change as well, thoughts come slower and are often lost right in mid sentence, and words--- well-- i feel like we're starting over again. this has been a transforming month. another life. things are somewhat simpler, and i almost like it. but some of it has also been unbelievably frustrating and disheartening and just exhausting.

in the midst of all of this i had a visit from my dear norwegian friend and i will share some of our photographic explorations of suburbia. and then there's something that i found which i'd thought existed but also somewhat took with a grain of salt--as myth-- urban legend, turned out to be walking with me all along just like they said but-- you know how things come and go and if you listen closely you can hear me whispering it right now, but maybe you can feel it under my words, and words to come. until then, and until i figure out how to merge the new and old ways of living, thinking, functioning, observing, appreciating and most importantly writing, i might play around with posting some of the photos i've been taking lately with my really old, faulty digital camera, as for the past month, my words have been lost somewhere inside this head of mine that's trying to find its way through the pain and back again speaking the same language, and learning yours. the headaches aren't completely gone, and even though at times it makes me dizzy, somehow things stopped spinning. please excuse my unplanned absences as i adjust to all of this and still find my words, and you-- and back again.

x c

photos : by c

: : honey reflections : :

i first posted this in november of last year,
but it remains one of my personal favorite pieces,
and i read it often, to remind myself of--
whatever it is i need to be reminded of in that moment--
and so i remind you--

::

Sitting in the car, he picks up the paper cup of cold coffee that’s been left in the cup holder all day long, and sips it, not registering any signs of displeasure in the taste (that I certainly don’t enjoy even watching him; yet I’ve grown accustomed to it) in fact he claims the coffee tastes better this way and I smile to myself in the endearing simplicity of such gestures that inexplicably hold me here. Like the need for that stale coffee, it can’t be helped. It’s the details, finding pleasure in the bitter sweet, and the moment after, that have in time, touched something within me. He takes a deep breath and sighs out loud, slight exhaustion coming over from a lack of solution to all of life’s problems; and with those strong coffee colored eyes he looks over at me, and in my eyes, his indulgent stare lingers, acknowledging unspoken words with indifference and sincerity and an air of resignation, with half-contented smiles, sympathetic, complicit, he then places the cup of coffee back in the cup holder, and starts the car.

previous post :: honey in my coffee

the balcony scene

loyal waves crash touch

laughter-- pull away with faith--

to return once more

::

and other times life sneaks up like a huge wave knocking me down, throwing me far off course and leaving me there to see the beauty that exists but just out of reach...

all year long i thought the waves that would touch me this summer would be in maratea italy with all my friends to celebrate the marriage of two dear friends maria teresa and christophe.... but headaches and instability in this life of mine left me ashore. maria teresa and christophe have their wedding today and i won't be there.... au moins, later this week my norwegian friend will arrive from the wedding to california to give me the full report over kaffe. but i won't be in italy today and there was not question in my mind, i planned to be there for them. but life has crashed down on me multiple times since then.

and you may remember a little website we were making together for their wedding.. ya... it's still sitting there.. with one entry {ooops}. perhaps we can turn it into an online guest book / photo album for those who were there in person and in spirit. still can't think about missing their day, it makes me too sad.

dear friends that live so far that oceans get in the way and physically divide us, but at the same time, could never keep us apart.

these are photos from the last time i saw mt and chris last spring in paris. last farewell glimpses taken from the window of a train after years of friendship, two weeks of just-like-it-used-to-be, and this lovely afternoon spent in the sunny garden of their versailles house....

::

i'm not super sweet on wedding inspired stories, but their story is simply perfection and cannot be overlooked. two of the most genuine, generous, fun, funny, sweet, adorable, charming, vivacious, delightful people...

literal sunshine in my life and over my rough oceans.

you guys have brightened my life. and i'm not just saying it, i really really mean it. i wish you all the happiness. but it's been there and will be, it's already written for you.....

footprints trace those in

smooth sands deep that time will tell--

the hours-- yours to make

::

love to you mt and chris
et a tres vite j'espere...
bisoubacikisses
x c

{the first & last photos were taken in maratea italy and i absolutly love them :: by design monkey}

missed chances :: express :: train de nuit

.

:: missed chances taking you
where you belong
on an old train found with the one
you'd never dreamed of
until today ::







:: until today
you'd never dreamed of
on an old train found with the one
where you belong
missed chances taking you ::




.




image :: train de nuit the new chanel N°5 film
mirrored poem by moi :: more here on my new blog

flight :: train de nuit :: haiku

in the fresh hours of early light awoken soft from restless warmth you--





image :: train de nuit the new chanel N°5 film
haiku :: by moi :: more here on my new blog

forgive before forgotten :: train de nuit :: haiku

dust off the window
peer in-- the world still as it
was we are could be




image :: train de nuit the new chanel N°5 film
haiku :: by moi :: more here on my new blog

train station whispers :: train de nuit :: haiku

train station whispers
dusty windows glimpse glamour
days past our time glows

image :: train de nuit the new chanel N°5 film
haiku :: by moi :: more here on my new blog

still :: train de nuit :: haiku

after all this-- train
still passes in the distance
in our distance-- still--


image :: train de nuit the new chanel N°5 film
haiku :: by moi :: more here on my new blog

somehow know :: train de nuit :: haiku

there's a whisper in
the air can't quite hear somehow
know-- it's about you



image :: train de nuit the new chanel N°5 film
haiku :: by moi :: more here on my new blog

train de nuit

train de nuit the new chanel N°5 film

i know i'm late in writing about this and posting these simply breathtaking images, but i don't think anyone will mind. this new epic chanel N°5 film/commercial came out earlier in spring and though i've watched it many times since... last night/early this morning when i'd awoken with yet another headache, this served as a delicious distraction, i'm completely swept up in the images, and the way that this small breath of a film takes mine with it and holds so many images and sights, ideas that have been sources of inspiration to me for so long....

trains play a huge role in my life and have, literally.. metaphorically.. poetically.. in paris but also in california {i didn't get my license until i was almost 30..eh hem... i'm 29 haha} and i've cherished train station glances and goodbyes, and hellos, and... and rides that went where they weren't supposed to, and train tickets at the bottom of my purse that remind me.....

the orient express. feel as though i've traveled on it so many times in my mind, in my relationships, in my passions and tastes for more... the train leaves paris {the city.. 'the one that got away' for me} and istanbul {the next stop on my travel ticket, where some of my dearest friends live, canim cok optum girls}

the colors... brilliant, muted, reflecting, deep tinged with nostalgia.... signature glow of jean-pierre jeunet {the director of amelie} who i, along with my dear crazy friend, chased through the streets of montmartre in 2001 as he conducted interviews, did press photo shoots and met with members of the amelie cast in the cafe where it was filmed. we even met him and took photos and autographs and les bises... the only two non-press, english-speaking 'fans' that were present, we were still new to paris and hadn't realized that the french don't drool over celebrities as americans do. but quand meme we had an amazing experience, and were far more refined when we sat next to audrey in our favorite cafe months later, or when my parents and i sat next to another of the film's actresses while she ate an omelet and entertained her very small baby, just the two of them, a rainy afternoon in paris, in yet another cafe.

anyway. too much writing, i'm sure you just want to look at the images, as they are lovely. i will post a few of the film stills separately with some of my train haiku from the past that seemed fitting. also, watch the film on here, or check out the chanel website the video and website it's nice to watch it on there.

:: missed chances taking you where you belong, on an old train found with the one you'd never dreamed of until today ::

a tout.... x c

knew all along

that i would always
remember that you'd always
forget----


::







photo :: carla coulson
andrew crane :: painting
haiku :: moi

more of my haiku
::
here

x c

shadows in the distance-- light

we're always meant for goodbye, again.
#sixwords




my poetry blog :: chandeliers on the floor
jerry yoon :: image

and this..

red leaf studios

the poetry of everyday, every day.
#sixwords


::

sitting amongst shadows of her memory

a dear friend of mine who has with dignity, strength and grace been enduring an illness, has passed away. i sit holding the breath within me feeling this news envelop me still fresh though it has stood wavering on the edge of my thoughts lately. been writing tonight ever since i heard the news an hour or two ago, these thoughts and memories in no particular order have come over me and with the touch of words i have begun to capture the essence of what she meant and what this means.

image :: flickr

i just stand and stare before me shadows on the wall of dark purple orchids on bending branch..don't..hear what they're talking about..lost..shadows deep colors still capture her memory here in a dimly lit room that looked exactly the same five minutes ago before i knew

she dried the sage i still put in my dark tea today..gave it to me by the door..waiting..as i walked out into the sun didn't realize it was goodbye

shadows on the wall of dark purple orchids on bending branch..don't..hear what they're talking about..lost..shadows deep colors still capture her memory

echos of her accent melodic in my head take me somewhere else i hope she knew--

still in this moment right after i read those words so easy to read what i already knew so hard to believe i won't hear her generous dignified gentle voice again

wish i could have saved some of the messages that she left me on my cell phone. like the day i left her house without taking some cake with me for my family. i had a worried message from her telling me to please come back, that she'd forgotten to give me more cake.

shadows on the wall of dark purple orchids on bending branch..don't..hear what they're talking about..lost..shadows deep colors still capture her memory

this is the surreal moment before it sets in where i float slightly above my chair, numb, resonating, fingers working madly on this keyboard to capture her as if she could somehow silently slip away from my memory my fingers work reach move to grasp cling caress while knowing somewhere along the way that what was can never truly be lost

sitting amongst shadows of her memory
smiling amongst the echos of her laughter

.


.
.

the story of an hour

words distort my clock
hands swift-- at times-- stopped forget--
at times-- watch the hours
.

.
which reminds me. please see my previous post titled the story of an hour and take a few min to read my very favorite short story of all time from which i borrowed the title the story of an hour by kate chopin.. it's haunting-- delicate-- touches me every time i read it.
.

.
ok... gotta go or i'll be late for tutoring with miss abby at our cafe.... x c

.

chandeliers on the floor :: haiku
image :: mrs french flickr

flashlight :: flash fiction :: sparks fly

i'm so invigorated by the concept and implications of the 'flash fiction' buzz. though i mostly write 'flash non-fiction' or 'flash reality fiction' or 'flash haiku' the notion surrounding this movement-of-sorts has me excited-- exhilarated-- like the h&m the zara of writing, and i'll take one in every color. now. right now.

.

.

i've been participating in flash fiction via my blogs and especially twitter, and on my down days it's the only thing that lifts me up. i will write more about this later, but for the moment it's keeping me on my toes, with the instant ability to generate inspiration and ideas, create, share and have rapid feedback from generous and talented writers-- i think i've finally found my place.

.

this is just a flash-fiction news flash, i will fill in what i left out in a later post-- right now i've gotta run-- {well gotta get ready in a flash, then run}

.

cok optum-- x c

lovely images :: carla coulson

.

never easy..

© Eni Turkeshi Photography

"It is easier to blame others than to look inward;
to see what is different about someone than to find the things we share."

obama's cairo speech 4 june 2009

::blue sweater haiku::

the bright blue sweater
lightens my dark exterior
don't always wear it



::blue sweater #haiku series::

my haiku :: here
julia galdo :: image

window curtain danced

:: heard the whistle of :: the train in your eyes open :: window curtain danced ::



more of my haiku::chandeliers::on::the::floor::

image :: leigh :: jkl designs

the girl, the boy, behind the shadows

chantal by cristian el chico de camisa morada

so my friend cristian likes to walk around with his camera and take pictures of everything and then never share them... i am now forcing him to slowly share them on my blog {until we get him on twitter or flickr or his own blog} today we came up with the name 'el chico de camisa morada' for obvious reasons, he was the guy sitting with me in the cafe, the guy in the purple shirt, and there it was, he had a name, he just needed to stop hiding behind the shadows and the camera and share his work!

so while i was forcing him to get in the light... i decided i would make him write his very first haiku ever, while sitting at the table with me in the cafe. each of us would come up with a haiku to accompany this photo, and as cristian came up with the words 'the girl behind the shadow' we would each use this in our own haiku. long story short... the cafe closed, and 'we' hadn't finished yet ;) ;) so we sat in my car in front of the cafe for the next hour or so, finishing up the haiku. i told him if my 12 year old students could do it, so could he, and after mumbling some excuses about english not being his first language, it all came out very well....

the dark secret life
the girl behind the shadows
lived-- reflections--

by cristian el chico de camisa morada
{his 1st haiku ever}


that road not taken
the girl behind the shadows
hiding-- could have been--

by chantal the girl behind the shadows

then i got back home and on twitter, where i've been encouraging other friends to write haiku, a game of sorts that i've started with @Dr_Wes called #haikutherapy where he's trying to build his haiku-writing stamina and so little by little we write together. he writes the first line {5 syllables} then i take it from there. this has proved successful and therapeutic for the both of us. a few minutes after i returned from writing or rather forcing cristian to write, i had a line waiting for me on twitter by the good doc himself: superficial talk. i couldn't believe how well this would fit with cristian's second line, and thus the following haiku was born::

superficial talk
the girl behind the shadows
never said a word

by @dr_wes, cristian & me
{collaboration is a beautiful thing}

chantal by cristian el chico de camisa morada



:: out from the shadows he will come slow but steady 'el chico de camisa morada' ::

friday

andrew crane paints. he even does art on concrete..
with words and numbers and immense creativity.
i'm excited to check his site every day.
and.. he's a really nice guy.
go! look at his work!!! now!!! x c

.
fool! don't you see now
that i could have poisoned you a hundred times
had i been able to live without you!
{cleopatra}
.


.
.

::chandeliers::on::the::floor::

carla coulson photo

during an unexpected detour {i still haven't arrived anywhere that even remotely resembles what i thought i'd have found by now} i tripped over a lot of things lying in my path to.... wherever i thought i was going...

for instance, a month or two ago i was looking for a challenging poetry lesson for one of the young students that i tutor in writing. the idea of haiku crossed my mind and five seconds after she complained about the constraints of 17 mere syllables, we were both hooked on the complex simplicity, the lull and force of writing haiku, of capturing moments in the same rhythm and a completely different light. flashes of light. glimpses of what i might otherwise not have told you, honest, courageous, brief, touching, strong, gentle, funny, poignant, subtle breaths of what was almost overlooked and whispered words of longing lost, held, found...

i've been writing haiku and sharing here and there, mostly on twitter, and in the meantime, have met some amazingly talented, creative, inspiring, supportive, fun and generous poets, writers and all-around interesting people, thoughtful and funny, i love funny, i need funny... and with some gentle encouragement that sincerely touched me, i've created a sparkling new blog to catch my fallen words shattered hopes scattered thoughts exhaled pieces together and molded into 17 syllables. 17 syllables that posses the potential to-- well-- you fill in the rest--

because the experience of haiku is personal, unique to each individual who reads it and different in the next moment if you choose to read it again. and haiku is accessible. anyone can find a laugh or a smile, a pause in a hectic day, a moment of peace, reflection, perspective, as your own thoughts echo in the deceptive depth of a single haiku.

most of you just haven't tried yet. i intend to change that. this is my effort. so please stop by ::chandeliers::on::the::floor:: and introduce yourself, and come back..often.. i'll post haiku and short poems {maybe some longer ones...who knows, go crazy!} throughout the day. i love getting to know all of you and your work. find me on twitter and we'll play #haikuwordgame together! i'm kinda shy so you might have to say hi first haha. i will start a list of twitter poets on my new haiku blog to keep the conversation moving.

so please enjoy the charming and charismatic nature of haiku poems that wink at you just when you think you're not looking. don't just read the few collected on my blog-- read as many as you can find. moments of your lives will forever be reflected and changed. {repeat if necessary}
x chantal {aka @inotherwords_c on twitter}

how everything turns away

© Eni Turkeshi Photography

About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters; how well, they understood
Its human position; how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
For the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
In Breughel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure;
the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.

w.h. auden’s musée des beaux arts

::

:: blue sweater haiku :: {.....and another sapphire remembrance}

© Eni Turkeshi Photography

:: the bright blue sweater
lightens my dark exterior
then hang it back up ::



i have this bright blue cardigan that i wear often because i love the color and it's a nice contrast to the consistently black wardrobe that hangs in my closet. the other day with my sister {when i was in santa barbara} we somehow got on the topic of my blue sweater, i was wearing it that day, and one of us {i don't recall specifics} or perhaps both of us decided that a blue sweater haiku might be in order. so as she scurried around her apartment doin' something {again, i don't recall...} i scribbled down this blue sweater haiku, and in my usual indecisive nature, created a series of final lines for the haiku that i liked and i couldn't narrow it down to just one, thus i decided to create a blue sweater haiku series, because with the simple altering of the last line, each haiku meant something, signified something completely different. this is the first in a series i'll continue... and, as always, i adore the challenge of finding the perfect images to go along with each one.

and now, i'd love to stay and chat but i've got to get dressed and ready to go! i got a new yellow sweater the other day... perhaps the next installment...? we'll see.

and ps please if you haven't yet check out my sweet friend eni's photos you can see them all right here
i often use her images with my writing. they're so colorful, capturing moments of life... she has a great series of images on istanbul that i will share soon {where she lived for many years} and also on tirana, albania the beautiful city she calls home.

bonne journee

x c

a sapphire remembrance is all i own--

Five miles above the Atlantic,
you fall into dreaming.
Somewhere between Paris and San Francisco,
the sky turns the color
of sapphire.

by a fellow twitter poet {sam} who wrote this for me last week.
{encore merci sam!} to see more of his sensitive and inspired writing
check out his blog or follow him on twitter @semaphore1

image via jerry yoon photography

like waves

© 2009 Guy-Vincent

a poetic soul--

a blessing? or recipe for disaster...

i'm gonna go with both

::

this is me......

image by {one of my favs} carla coulson

they can't understand
doesn't make it easier
to realize---

::

to realize---
doesn't make it easier
they can't understand

cleverly disguised

© Eni Turkeshi Photography

ink-stained hands word-stained
pages rustle with the breeze
can't get you--
--out of my mind
::

what i was going to say--

grab my pen and write

mundane things interrupt my--

stare off-- where are you

::

a hush falls... on rue mademoiselle

rough day. been meaning to write for the past few days... in fact, i've been doing so, been writing so much, just not posting recently. i will. the haiku have been flowing..... i will also be back to communicating with all of you, i haven't forgotten. but i'm writing this late night post {in lieu of sleeping off this headache} because i received some news just now that saddens and slightly startles me, despite the fact that i knew.. one day.. it would happen. the beautiful sophie marie of mon bon chien in paris who touched something in us all with her devoted eyes and perfectly manicured paws has passed on in search of greener grass, more squirrils to chase, and walks with cedric that never end. i miss her presence already. and in heavy-hearted haste, tried to capture her sweet, gentle, patient, loyal spirit in this poem:

though i knew
one day it would arrive--
still my heart--
skipped a beat
sweet face tender eyes baby in her paws
resting her chin patiently attentive
as she'd sit waiting for the next adventure



ears alert to the sound of
biscuits dropping on the floor
or the infamous sliding door--
gentle loyal soph soph sniffing the air with curiosity
found her way into our hears and smiles
{as well as the biscuit cabinet, the kitchen..}
and into her french quartier and our laughter
the golden
pink painted paws touch softly
the sidewalks of paris
now only in our sweetest memories



and every time we pass
the window of her shop
somehow we know she's still there
crunching nostalgic dreams
and squirrels yet to chase
and on occasion {though cleverly disguised
as only a diva so artfully can}
tapping her tail on the floor over
her next mischievous but ever harmless trick
her next meal her next hug from harriet
daily caresses of small eager hands
who come from all over paris
to pet her soft {shedding everywhere} fur
on rue mademoiselle
and her next steps
into the forest she knew one day
she'd run through once more
in our bittersweet dreams

from squirrels in seattle to tempting baguettes and birthday parties on rue mademoiselle, the infamous, almost 14-year-old golden retriever with pink nail polish has retired from her position as princess of the boutique mon bon chien paris, leaving both joy and emptiness in our hearts. we still expect her to awake out of the deepest sleep and come out of nowhere just to sneak another biscuit. from all sides of the world, we remember her sweet eyes, her silly ways, her eyebrows that told stories of their own, and her devoted owner harriet, who started her doggie bakery business so that she could spend every day with sophalina. sending love and peanut butter kisses to you both, and dearest diablo {soph soph's rascal of a little brother.}

my puppy poulet {the one jumping here in the picture} learned his best tricks from sophie marie, he grew up in her sparkling shadow: how to guard the treats and how to sneak extra, patience and fidelity, guilt and begging as well as pouting to get what he wants {ok, that last one he may have learned from me}, his kindness to other dogs and feisty guarding of the bone, how to dress to impress and confidently wear pink, and soph's trademark move he does every morning that makes me laugh and think of sophie, the rollin' on the back with the legs flailing about it the air move.

you guys are the best thing that ever happened to us....
can’t imagine where we’d be without you.

i will write more mon bon chien stories soon {and please check past mbc posts here.} images: from the mon bon chien site where you can order biscuits online shipped all over the world, and from my camera last summer when i spent some quality time with soph. poulet {my little guy} is performing his trademark move above in the photo and sophie is, as ever, begging gracefully by his side.

"sweets to the sweet, farewell!"
shakespeare

falling--

some things can't be helped

you know you shouldn't but you--

and for a moment--

image via jerry yoon photography

somewhere in between

tells me stories when
he's half asleep but all mine
awake in a dream

image: katya de grunwald photography

careful

{but ya, you're careless}

-- but you don't know
and you don't know what else to be,
so you're careless
maybe it's how they taught you
maybe it's what they didn't show
maybe you think it's the only way--
and you never know--

but what you believe--
whatever that may be,
don't really say--
the rest is suspect
only trust yourself
to save, dismiss, inflict-- the pain
and not know the extent--
but if only you could--
but you just don't know

so you're careless
in the words, in the actions,
in the brush of the hand--
the curve of the lips--
the shrug of the shoulder--
but not in your eyes

yet you're careless
quand meme
you're careless
maybe you decided long ago
maybe you think it won't hurt
maybe you think it's the only way
-- gives mask to the fears
don't let yourself realize--
of that i'm certain
and it takes courage to feel
and it takes another kind of strength
to give in, to show, to not walk away, to care--
but you've grown accustomed to your ways,

so you're careless
in all the moments
-- save the glimpses in between
when you see
and i know
but you don't know
and you don't know-- i know--
because you're careless

maybe you decided long ago
to be careless
in the words, in the actions,
in the brush of the hand--
the curve of the lips--
the shrug of the shoulder--
but not in your eyes

just-- careless
maybe you can't help it
and maybe i can't help it
still you're careless
but your eyes--
but i know--
but you just don't-- know, yet--
you may be careless
and somehow--
and maybe one day--
-- and in time
and with time--

and i'm here
to experience details of the world
and falter, and stand
the sadness, fear, and you
in all its intricacies
somehow i've the courage to endure
and i will, and you'll find the way--
i believe you've the strength to care
and so i withstand, at times impatient
and mostly i believe
and i don't care--
and i don't care, any less

{but ya, you're careless}

images: jerry yoon photography

remember when....

image: elle moss

i found the perfect card for my mom today, it said:

mom remember when i was a kid and you wanted me
to grow up and be something?
...you should have been more specific

my dad laughed out loud in the store when i showed it to him.
and my mom LOL'd when she read it, because
fortunately or unfortunately this card basically says it all, that's me.

{aaaaaand yes, that's me, below there,
trying to be something..}

i also wrote her this haiku
{hey, a haiku from me, imagine that!}

when there are no words

just your smile, your hug i know--

yes, i know-- me too.

hope you all enjoyed the day with moms or memories
or at least some laughter......

now, i've got to go and be 'something'
......any suggestions??

wrote another poem today,
will share it in the morning. bonne nuit x

♥c

ashes and wine

been a bit ailleurs this week {ie somewhere else} was literally supposed to be in santa barbara visiting my sister... and then the jesusita fire started, and everything got...smokey, so to speak. so i didn't go to santa barbara and instead kept my eye on the fire, the evacuations, the devastatingly captivating images of the fire in the mountains and streets of a place i'd once known as home. beautiful and nostalgic images in my mind of my years spent in the gorgeous town of santa barbara were dominated, more than anything, by my constant concern for my sister's safety. and i twittered a lot. and i don't mean anxious chatter or jittery fidgeting {though restlessness abounded} but i mean literally twittered about the fire, read constant updates on twitter, and got way too much information for my overly active imagination that proceeded to run away from me.

anyway, during the worst night of the fire, sometime well after midnight as they were still evacuating people, i needed distraction but couldn't look away long enough to find one. and my dad, lost for any way to really help me calm down, said in a serious-bordering-on-exasperated tone "why don't you, just, write some poems or something." alas it's not easy for an engineer integrated circuit designer dad to have an overly creative, imaginative, emotional, sensitive {etc..} daughter, but he tried. and in fact, about a half an hour later i found myself absorbed in turning the verbose, redundant thoughts that were overwhelming my mind at a furious rate, into simple, sleek, perfectly shaped haiku poems.

if you haven't noticed, i've been a bit obsessed with haiku lately. it all started just with me attempting to find a fun form of poetry to work on with one of the girls i tutor {hi olivia ;)} and then i got kind of hooked.... because the challenge of streamlining my thoughts into seventeen syllables became fascinating, and rewarding. and helped to clarify, and speak louder than i'd anticipated, and set these thoughts to a new rhythm. then i worked on haiku with another one of my students {hi abby :)} and we were all hooked. at times the rhythm lulls me into..something...somewhere else...

and especially on this fiery night, it soothed my fears a bit. and took me away. i posted the haiku on twitter each time i wrote a new one, one after another, hoping that anyone else who was worried about the fire, might too, find some element {other than fire :)} of comfort in the brief words. and how gratifying to hear from readers that in fact, they did.

here are some of the poems i wrote during those tense days in the beginning of the jesusita fire in santa barbara, and a few of the spectacularly calamitous images of the fire. the flames were all along and above the 101 freeway, and my sister said that while driving on the freeway beside the fire, it was hard to look away {though dangerous, as she was driving} from the dramatic view.

and all along, the song ashes and wine by a fine frenzy has been playing in my head... {santa barbara is known for its vineyards} and in fact, funnily enough, it's playing on my sterio as i type this. 'don't know if our fate's already sealed. this day's a spinning circus on a wheel ... there is nothing left to say but is there a chance, a fragment of light at the end of the tunnel, a reason to fight? is there a chance you may change your mind? or are we ashes and wine. the day's still ashes and wine, or are we ashes..'

it's the not knowing
and knowing what you know won't
stop fire from burning

a sky so dark, thick
air, smoke hard to remember
yesterday's calm blues

we sit and wait, i'm
here on twitter while she's there,
watching fire and news

it's the little things
you want to hold on to when
it's time to let go





she sees fire light the
mountains, sky, smoke in her eyes
close mine, i see her





ash falls from the sky
gentle like snow nothing's as
it seemed anymore




you don't feel until
it touches you, don't see 'til
you look in their eyes



images via latimes and noozhawk

train music

© Eni Turkeshi Photography

wow, i wrote this poem years ago on a train {imagine that} going from bordeaux back to paris, i scribbled it down on an old piece of scrap of paper in my purse..... at the time it meant something completely different to me than what it whispers to me today as i read it over and over after having found it tucked away in the files of my old laptop. it's startling how much it still relates to my life in yet a completely different way... almost prophetic.... big thanks and teşekkürler to eni, it's your gorgeous albanian train photo that reminded me to look for this in the first place. the way past and present, future and memory all blur together - suspended - speeding past in slow motion, through an air that's both very much the same, familiar and yet transformed - changed - leaves me sitting here perplexed, yet i can't help but feel some breath of hope. and this image, this photo, inspires another poetic sentiment within me, which i will share another time. perhaps that whisper i heard was destiny, or maybe just a haunted whistle of trains past.

train music

empty parking lots and street signs
my reflection and reflections
looking out looking in
music and time melt together
not sure how fast we’re going
empty words and broken dreams
looking forward
signs in the distance
going back
not sure how fast we’re going
music and time melt together
looking out looking in
my reflection and reflections
empty parking lots and street signs

dizzy glimpses

image here

my mom said something about a whirling dervish the other day
and suddenly i couldn't hear anything else she was saying
because i was struck with this thought, this image, as my head spun
with the realization. how better these days, than to stand back
and watch my situation from a far, to equate it to a mere dance,
one that others don't often understand but continue to watch
because they wonder what will happen and can't seem to look away,
all at once perplexed, paralyzed, skeptical, transfixed, confused and captivated.

and thus, here i stand,
a whirling dervish of headaches and anxieties
dressed up in flowing prescription medications,
swept up in occasional blurry glimpses of hope,
downward spirals of despair, with a restlessness
that leaves me questioning how i'm still standing,
a caress soft and warm, a gentle breath of air
and deliciously dizzy spins at desire....

or in other words, in the more concise form of haiku that seems to be
twirling about {not to mention twittering about} in my head these days....

•

a whirling dervish
of occasional dizzy
glimpses at desire

•

happy 1er mai and bon week-end

ahhhhh the days when i was young and free in paris {haha, uh...about two years ago} i loved 1er mai. it usually rained {hey paris in the spring} but everyone had the day off which meant that the night before was an extra night to go out to some soirée until the wee hours when april turned softly {or often, not so softly} into may........

then in the morning {when i was on my way home, ahh to be young again...haha} and all day long, vendors would sell {they still do, i'm just not there, so i'm using the past tense to capture the bitter..sweet... nostalgia that sets in for me...and in case you didn't sense it, that was purposefully overly dramatized, perhaps on account of the amount of coffee i've had thus far today...but nevertheless...back to my musings..}

vendors stand about the streets selling small bouquets of the precious lily of the valley {en francais: muguet} that friends and family exchange on 1er mai. {certain people close to me at the time weren't french and were rather oblivious to this amazing tradition, and thus every single year, i'd have to nudge and hint and finally say, "get me some of those flowers on your way home" well, it always worked, quand meme}

so anyway, just wanted to quickly post these longings before running off to press the coffee that's been sitting in the pot for far too long already.........yes, more coffee.

et s'il te plait, get me some of those flowers on your way home. merci.

bisou bisou ♥c

it was the silence

can't remember what language

we spoke said it all




{& in response to eni & anyone else who was wondering, unless otherwise cited the haiku, poems, words etc.. on here are my own; in my words and i appreciate - more than you'll ever know - sharing them with all of you}

for what it's worth

© Eni Turkeshi Photography

...and as shakespeare wrote

{every time i repeat this quote to myself
it finds new meaning somewhere within me}

"fortune brings in some boats that are not steered"

sands of grain

katya de grunwald photography


they all write about this, i know, to the point of cliché....
so many words, eloquent, trite, common, touching,
describe a simple notion:
the persistent inability
to firmly grasp the grains of sand that
inevitably fall through our fingers
despite an ever present desire, need,
attempt, to hold on.

they all write about this,
today it is i, who will write, scribbled down on paper,
typed hastily on macbook, repeated over
and over under the falling water
of my shower, the persistent inability
to firmly grasp the grains of sand that
inevitably fall through our fingers;
the ever present desire to hold on.

'like the grains of sand through the hour glass,
so are the days of our lives'
a dramatic voice on the television
if you care to tune in,
speaks daily, from another room.

once i wrote a poem about the beach,
four pages long, and yet
one phrase: ephemeral sandcastles
stands out to me well beyond the rest.

does it all wash away? slip
through the fingers, smooth
out by morning as though nothing had ever been there?
whispers in the faithful return of the crashing
waves suggest to me otherwise..

you are like this.
these soft grains, course, at times
hot, and in moments, surprisingly cool,
damp; dry, too hot to walk on,
i sink deeper when i try to stand still, stumble
when i take a step toward you;
yet, they seem so firm
when you run away....

i reach down, without thinking,
yet it's all i think about,
and grab yet another handful of sand.
hot in the summertime,
cool in the autumn,
but i always reach for more.

grab a smooth handful of perfection,
a glimpse of what should be, an encounter
i can't ignore, pleasure
i don't want to forget and then i feel
the grains that slip through the cracks,
my desire fails to close the smallest of spaces in between
that allow you to escape,
seems the harder i hold on, the faster they fall,
can't grasp them, watch them, sense them
slipping through my fingers,
devastatingly deliciously caressing
as they fall away, reminding me to forget.

without thinking, and yet it's all i think about,
time and time again, i reach,
somehow faithful none the less, determined
to try once more; yet knowing all the while,
the small handful of hope that
i reach for and hold here is fleeting.

nearly immediate, eventual escape,
return, the grains fall,
mix with the sand below that spans
as far as my eyes can see, supporting me,
causing me to sink with every step.

warm breeze, cold wind,
the grains blow in my eyes, tears fall,
sandy fingers wipe them away with inherent motion
touched with familiarity and my damp fingers
reach down once more.
know i'll never be able to hold on
yet confident in that whisper,
gently touching me, slipping through my fingers,
but i'll never let go.

will seize them when i can,
feel the smooth, rough grains of perfection
between my fingers when
at last, your warm embrace
through the cool seasons evading, gentle, seductive,
fleeting, desperate, even apprehensive and infinite,
as the grains of sand we so often write about, read about,
walk all over and brush away with careless ease...

'when I consider every thing that grows
holds in perfection but a little moment…'
writes shakespeare in the first and second lines of sonnet 15...

ephemeral sandcastles

does it all wash away?
slip through the fingers,
smooth out by morning as though nothing had ever been
there; while whispers of the faithful return
in crashing waves upon these very grains of sand,
continue to suggest the caress of something more..

the complexity was always there..and i saw it..

© Eni Turkeshi Photography

woke up this morning • and everything and nothing • had changed forever

holding letting go

where i sit in this
moment still holding this breath
again let this go

image: chasing twilight flickr

;)))

jerry yoon photography

“If you hear that someone is speaking ill of you,

instead of trying to defend yourself you should say:

'He obviously does not know me very well, since

there are so many other faults he could have mentioned'"

epictetus

bon week-end.

© Eni Turkeshi Photography eni's {delightful} flickr

"i will not let anyone walk through my mind with their dirty feet"
gandhi

"...and he could be intolerable; he could be impossible;
but adorable to walk with on a morning like this."

virginia woolf
mrs. dalloway


image: jerry yoon photography

sunglasses on, darkness, fioricet, water, coffee..

© Eni Turkeshi Photography

that headache that i mentioned yesterday turned into a migraine before i was able to drive home from what could have been an enjoyable evening in the very warm spring night air with a very warm algerian. not sure how i squinted past the streetlights and through the stoplights enough to drive home, but i'm here. been in the dark ever since. and thus, for the time being, my post for today will be simple with a rather appropriate blurry image {colorful for those of you who aren't sitting in front of the computer with big dark sunglasses on, as i am!} et voilà ...i'm delighted to share another of eni's photographs. enjoy! and please check out her flickr...

ok. to bed.

haiku is a city and laundry looks best drying out the window of an old building, weathered and worn and painted a beautiful shade of green...

© Eni Turkeshi Photography

funny and intriguing the things, places, people, images etc. one stumbles across on the internet in this current social media explosion.

the other day, in the midst of a blossoming love affair with haiku poetry {after trying to inspire my students to play around with it} and sharing a bit of it on here, i noticed a visit on my blog from a place called haiku, hawaii. i thought to myself how rather ironic it was that, in my current obsession with writing haiku, haiku had paid me a visit! as fate {i mean it must have been fate that brought that visitor here on the particular day i made my haiku debut, what else could it possibly have been..?!} thus, as fate would have it, my haiku was visited from someone in haiku {call me ignorant, but i didn't know such place existed, learn something new every day!}. so then i went on twitter to tweet around a bit, and sure enough, had a new follower from haiku, hawaii {by this point i thought fate must be working overtime..} well come to find out just today, a week after all of this, this individual who resides in haiku, sent me a message that she had seen my blog show up in her google alerts for haiku {as in the city}! how very cool, and kind of funny, and now i wonder if i should question the role that fate played in all of this, or simply see it, from any angle, as a sign to share another haiku today. and so here we go:

and with those few words
i'll never be able to
unless you listen

and one more thing, while on this subject, i also had brought to my attention by another twitter follower, the website twihaiku where you can post haiku on the site that simultaneously appears on twitter as well. @twihaiku it's kinda fun. {the first haiku i posted was made haiku of the day yesterday..hmmm so ya that is kinda fun, kinda cool..}

and about the green building laundry part of this rambling post's title {if the picture didn't give it away yet} i discovered a new very fav flickr friend yesterday {ok well it was more like 3 in the morning today, but who's keeping track} her name is eni turkeshi of eni turkeshi photography, her photos are fantastic capturing 10.5 years of color, movement, light and character in istanbul and also her beautiful hometown of tirana the capital city of albania. check out her photostream and also her blog. she has a poignant view of place and a warm and kind spirit. love her images, you will see more of them on here in the very near future.

ok, that's enough out of me for a while. as you can maybe tell, i had a headache earlier and took two different kinds of my prescription headache medications, so i'm feeling a bit...well, better on va dire...

bonne journee, tesekkeur eni, and more haiku to come...i'm sure. x c

6:18 in the warm evening...

"It's past six o clock and even if he doesn’t know it, you fell in love with him
years and years and years ago, right in the middle of chapter 2 when he
winked at you through the subtext."

written by that talented girl laura i mentioned a while back {read more here}
...laura's blog coming soon ;))

flickr fav {image here}

ah yes, another note...

just a note to thank those of you who comment on here. it's very sweet, and though i may not have posts with endless lists of 30+ comments each as do so many of you, i have such sincere and delightful commenters that i wouldn't change 2 of your comments for 50 of 'em any day.

thanks to all who read, who comment, and who stop by wpm from time to time, this little blossoming endeavor of mine. this whole venture is a huge step for me in actually sharing the writing i've been scribbling down for years and years and..well....years. i love connecting with you, reading your posts, and getting to know you.

thanks to all of you who read this but remain silent...... that's fine by me.. that was how i was all throughout school.. always listening, reading, thinking and coming up with my own angle on everything, but writing it in my notebook and rarely raising my hand. doesn't mean i wasn't paying attention.



anyway, this is just a little random saturday afternoon note to thank you, inspired by one of the most genuine bloggers and a dedicated reader/commenter on wpm miss heidi from finding my way. check out her blog with bits and pieces, fantastic images, reflective questions, daily musings and sweet observations that make a delightful excuse to pause the day, stop by her post, reflect and smile.

also... as i've noticed on many blogs, and particularly on heidi and blair's, i adore the added personal touch of responding to commenters and the opportunity this leaves for conversing with one another, providing a brief moment to connect ....and so just to let you know, i almost always respond to your thoughts and comments by commenting back to you on here.... so check back from time to time... it's great to have that added 'conversation' element.



ok, enough rambling... time to get some coffee from my favorite cafe, get out in the sunshine of my favorite time of fading late afternoon, and find my favorite, silly algerian boy before sunset.... think the evening promises to be warm and golden, what beautiful weather, first moments of spring.

oh ya, and remind me to share some of my writing about spring in paris. every year i was there i would find constant inspiration..in the streets, the movement, the warm days, laughter, and moments from evening deep into the late nights still touched with sunlight, warm breeze and the glowing anticipation -- often overwhelming -- that something delicious was just about to happen.

enjoy the moments wherever you are. à demain. big kisses from cali... ♥c


images: 1} .littlegirlblue flickr 2,3} le love

thoughts, notes, and another haiku. ......................bon week-end!

torn scrap of paper
edge of napkin, my thoughts, you --
scribbled everywhere


image: littlegirlblue one of my new flickr favs!

haiku before the weekend..

image

i sip my coffee
sit before this screen as if
nothing had happened

just passing through

i started this blog in the midst of one of the hardest periods of my life. and i'm still very much stuck here grappling with finding my way out of this mess. i've never really addressed the issues with you here head on, i guess that's not my style, but i do share a glance here and there, notes of sincerity that i'd never before passed on, and discover that some of us find inspiration and solace in the same things. i was lying in bed thinking and thinking and decided to just get up and write this. i was touched by a comment earlier in the evening by blair from delight by design, {one of her many thoughtful comments} and realized how this distant closeness can help us move on, in a way i'd never imagined.

in a constant state of change, rearranging the awkward and precious elements of my life, rummaging around what i have and have failed to hold on to, what i lost, dusty objects of value uncovered, those i hope one day to grasp, and everything in between... i search for perspective and share with you words and thoughts that i've found in myself and in the conviction of others, that capture a distinct sentiment in a particular light that suits my situation in this moment, and often in the next... only inferring at the heart of the matter, because it's the only way that i can pull myself through it.

it's not yet been six months since i started the blog and i've met some kindred spirits, some great talent, and an abundance of inspiration, compassion, and generosity. i glance through the progression of my posts as it documents -- in a hazy sort of light -- the roads i've tried to go down, the ones that i still find covered in fog, jammed with traffic or with one too many curves, and distant roads just around the corner that i've merely seen on a map and have yet to locate on my own, but at least i've got the license and the nagging desire to search for resilience, the {albeit, stop-and-go} drive, to look further ...and to maybe, someday, get there.



thanks for coming with me, and taking me with you, for the occasional honk or wave, and for often lending me the gps and inspiration for routes that i'd never stopped to consider along the way and that, just possibly, can take me.. where i will discover.. where i'll want to go.

x chantal



images: 1}carla coulson 2}julia galdo

"there's a curious thing about pain or hardship.
in the beginning it's an enemy, it's something that
you don't want to face or think about or deal with.
yet, with time it becomes almost a friend."


words: audrey hepburn
image: julia galdo

...right now

"whatever you love most, you fear you might lose,
you know it can change.
why do you look from left to right when you cross the street?
because you don't want to get run over.
but you still cross the street."

audrey hepburn

images julia galdo

write now..

i'm sitting in the cafe where i meet the girls who i tutor in writing. both of the girls i worked with today never fail to inspire me in numerous yet different ways. first i worked with olivia who i somehow managed to persuade into agreeing with me that haiku was not boring "but i hate haiku" but actually fun..or at least it is when you sit on a couch in a cafe and write it with me... {will post some of our haiku next.} *O* as we call her by pen name, literally gets bursts of instantaneous inspiration. today she blurts out in the middle of our haiku fest "hang on i have an idea for a poem i need a piece of paper quick!" waits impatiently as i tear out a piece of paper for her and search for a pen, and within 2 minutes, had scribbled down a poem. she's done this in the past, written impulse poems of revelation, but this one blew me away:

the one you love

the one you love
could be right
around the corner

the one you love
could be right
across the street

the one you love
could be right
at your feet

when you find them
you may feel
complete

by,
*O*

{written in approximately 2.5 minutes}

i quickly and curiously looked around the room and finally ask her who.. i mean.. what inspired this?! she said it was something going on at school, and i was relieved as i hadn't spotted anyone in the cafe deserving of such a tribute..and ya, and she's in 5th grade. see more of olivia's writing here.

then there's abby, i see reflections of myself in her quietly persistent imagination. among many other things, abby is writing a series called pink princess {see here} this girl (abby) is so clever, her story is not simply about a princess who likes the color pink. in fact, she calls it a tale of sadness, because it's about a princess whose mother had an allergic reaction to pink lemonade when she was pregnant with her, and the unfortunate baby is born with pink skin. abby was sitting in the corner table of the café, writing away as i was working with olivia. she told me later that she doesn't know what's going to happen next in the story, it's the characters who live it out in her mind for her. i told her many brilliant fiction writers would say the same thing. abby's in 6th grade.

anyway, got interrupted with this post when my fav mexican bff sergio walked in the cafe {aka my office} to save the day and say hi, but i will have a haiku post soon!!!

the story of an hour

image julia galdo

"when the storm of grief had spent itself she went away to her room alone. she would have no one follow her. there stood, facing the open window, a comfortable, roomy armchair. into this she sank, pressed down by a physical exhaustion that haunted her body and seemed to reach into her soul. she could see in the open square before her house the tops of the trees that were all a quiver with the new spring life. the delicious breath of rain was in the air."

from my very favorite short story, by kate chopin, the story of an hour

just a quick note.... bon week-end.

image: photobird

This is Just to Say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

william carlos williams

fluttering words

"My sensitive little butterfly"

my gorgeous swedish jamaican friend michaela
from london {we met in paris} who recently
relocated to toronto, sent me an email
the other day, it began:
"My sensitive little butterfly,"

and i was immediately touched
and elusively enlightened by the gentle
nature of her words, the image fluttering
in my subconscious, their delicate resonance
in the back of my mind ever since.

so deeply, impossibly, sensitive, i go
through life, just coming out of a cocoon
not sure how strong these wings are
or how far they will carry me,
i know they sparkle in the sunlight,
at times i know their colors, yet
if fluttering wings could stumble,
then certainly that would mine,
feel as though, they've been heavy
sitting on this branch forever, watching.

the delicate flapping wings of delightful flight
the world finds its purpose
and the wind carries it with pride
at times i find the momentum
to fly, in moments you fly beside me
yet too often i wish
the cocoon was still there and i
could crawl back inside and disappear.

you know how they say,
the exact words don't come to me now,
but something to the extent of,
the butterfly effect, and the notion of how
the effect that the gentle fluttering
of the colorful wings, a single butterfly
can change the winds of destiny...

so too i find, even the smallest of my actions,
have the effect of something that,
though i hardly meant to flutter,
is so greatly felt by others,
in the furthest from intended, desired of ways,
the gentle flapping, propels a painful force

and yet in moments when i least expect,
the soft quiet of fluttering changes
and subtle movement, delight
in a refreshing breeze stronger than
initially perceived, a breath of hope
for the next, the fateful winds of discovery.

such fluttering effects of both winds, perpetual,
occur multiple times in one single day
the direction becomes, for the next moment
unclear, no clear path in the expansive sky
the brilliant colors of my wings seem, to me, dull,
lifeless, powerless, without significance,

then from the secluded darkness,
pressing walls of my cocoon, that hold me here lost,
the lull, the words of a proverb
permeate, find entrance to awaken me
“Just when the caterpillar
thought the world was over,
it became a butterfly.”

and when awakened, the words
spoken in a flutter by thoreau,
float past me too, and enter
my deepest of longing, my lonely cocoon
“Happiness is like a butterfly:
the more you chase it, the more it will elude you,
but if you turn your attention to other things,
it will come and sit softly on your shoulder…”

and i stop fluttering my wings for a moment,
in reflection, not fully convinced but all at once
in benevolent anticipation,
in desperate hope that the next
faint flutter will mean... that something
...that soft something of my waking dreams

in my subconscious, their delicate resonance
if fluttering wings could stumble,
and subtle movement, delight
at times i find the momentum
the exact words don't come to me now,
my deepest of longing, my lonely cocoon
"it will come and sit softly on your shoulder…”
...that soft something of my waking dreams
"My sensitive little butterfly."

image 1} here image 2} here

last night. in 140 characters {more or less}

so last night i twittered: subtle, quiet relief. suddenly saw things in a different light & no one knows but me. not sure how i'll feel tomorrow..but somehow it's ok.

then later i wrote.. 4:28am. sometimes people let you down.

and then.."arrange whatever pieces come your way." virginia woolf

followed by.."life is in between the trapeze bars" helen keller

then..and tonite it was time for plan b.

and finally...."one of the great discoveries a man makes, one of his great surprises, is to find he can do what he was afraid he couldn't do." henry ford

oh ya, then i posted the post before this one, that says..



......and so goes any typical day {or late night} in the life of moi, up - down - twittering - around the corner - and back again for more.


images: 1}leigh, jkldesigns 2} julia galdo 3} debi treloar 4} katya de grunwald

5:50am. must be a reason.

{image here}

pencils, papers, poems.

ahhh!! just had the best time with one of my writing students. we spent well over an hour together writing a furry of poems. we both feel pretty confident in our ability to transform ordinary moments, mundane objects and everyday situations into delightful works of poetry ;) and we seriously fed off of each others inspiration it was a great mental and creative workout! we would give each other topics such as 'bathroom sink' {yes, that's one olivia really gave me!!} and 'red wall' and we'd scribble like mad on lined paper from the back of olivia's binder, scribbling pencils trying to keep up with the pace of the poems swirling about in our heads, scribbling down those poems on paper until our pencil lead wore down, then with eager smiles, we'd share our brief creations. here's a sample of our best work from today:

i gave olivia the subject of red wall, she gave me the subject of bathroom sink, here's what transpired....

red wall

The pictures sit upon
the big red wall. The wall is
steady so they do not fall.
So much depends upon
the big red wall
for if it
was not there the pictures
would fall.

by
*O*

{a poem literally written in 3 minutes}

that bathroom sink!

uh! that bathroom sink!!
you know the one!!
gets me every time.

minding my own business
looking in the mirror
i turn the faucet on
water soaks my tshirt
water splatters my pants
walk out of the bathroom
feel like everyone's looking
feel a little silly

uh! that bathroom sink!!
you know the one!!
gets me every time.

by
chantal

{i know she had the idea to give me this topic
because the bathroom sink in the cafe where
we meet is very temperamental!}

and then she gave me the word croissant which was perfect {ha! did she see my last post?!}

croissants in the mail

croissants in the mail
warm from the sun
sitting on my front porch

croissants in the mail
she sent them yesterday
sitting on my plate
now breakfast today

croissants in the mail
taste of butter, and better
than any other croissants
in the mail sent with love

by
me

and one more for the road by olivia, i called this one 'a poem in 2 minutes' because, well, it was....

A Poem in Two Minutes

So much depends upon
the wind blowing through the
trees. It moves through the
air blowing through the leaves.
Blowing scraps of trash
through the air. Sometimes
i you're not lucky it
will mess up your hair.

by
*O*

anyway, we enjoyed ourselves immensely, think we both walked away inspired. perhaps we'll start a poetry collection together. and i will be posting these and all the others on the website i'm creating for my students. the blog is a collective space to share their work! check it out: writing from the rooftops. olivia even has her first fan on her three-part saga about a super hero called Super Brick.....

images: 1} robyn glaser 2} lightbulb chandelier 3} moleskine reloaded

special delivery

"inspiration arrives as a packet of material to be delivered." john updike

opened the front door yesterday and there was a package from santa barbara on the steps. my sister had sent an overnight delivery of croissants from my fav french bakery in sb. a french pastry chef and his wife moved to santa barbara last year and opened a very small, always bustling, line-out-the-door bakery called renaud's patisserie and bistro. these are hands down the best croissants, pain au choco etc... that i've had in the states. mmmm had one for breakfast today. merci nini!

{image by a new flickr fav littlegirlblue}

melting perfection

"I wonder–if no one’s perfect…how do we know?
Those times when you watch masks melt off of people’s faces–
they must be perfect then.
Because there’s a glimmer of a second, every once in a while, that’s pure, that’s perfect,
when you wish you had a pencil and the corner of a napkin.
And then the lead breaks and you need to wipe your nose."

by
l a u r a
{a friend who is brilliant with words.
i believe she should start a blog of her own!}

perfect images thanks to leigh {jkldesigns} etsy shop here

dear abby

robyn glaser

i confessed to abby, one of the 12 year old girls that i tutor in writing, that i'd never finished reading the book island of the blue dolphins {that was back in 4th grade, mind you} she looked at me in disbelief, "you mean you never found out what happened to her?!" abby was reading the book again {on her own accord} for a second time. she proceeded to pull a copy of the book out of her bag, "i have two, you take this one so you can read it again and finish it" and she put it on the table in front of me. and so, i will be reading island of the blue dolphins. the whole thing this time. i'd say i learned my lesson, but really, the reason i so firmly remember not finishing the book, lies in the fact that this was when, at a young age, i discovered my own reading style. i don't generally read for the story, i read for the words, the crafting of the sentences, and if i can't get something out of almost every sentence, i'm often not compelled to continue reading it. and if i do get something out of almost every sentence {virginia woolf!!}, i read each sentence over and over, and forget what was happening in the story. this sort of reading i like to call métro reading, as i often read the same book in the métro {mostly virginia woolf} because i could get distracted, the lights could do that momentary dimming thing then come back on and i'd be right back on enjoying the same sentence. {hmm..writing this now, i hesitate to wonder if this could potentially be deemed a.d.d. reading, but i dismiss this thought, because i do in fact concentrate on every word, often getting lost in the rhetoric somewhere under the streets of paris...}


julia galdo

anyway. i'm in the middle of maybe 15 books and enjoy them all in their own moment. this is not to say that i never read books for the story, and that i never finish, because on occasion i do both. but all through high school and college as a dramatic art and english major, i don't recall finishing many books. one night i had a paper due the next morning on shakespeare's love's labour's lost, and though i'd acted in it, i'd never fully read the text {but talk about a writer whose every line can stand alone} so, at about 2am i decided to write the paper on the placement and meaning of the apostrophes in the title. we proceeded to spend the entire next class researching and discussing the importance of the apostrophe in this play's title and the professor was very pleased. this was more of a creative attempt to get that paper written without finishing -- or even starting -- the reading process, and it was a time issue more than anything, as i adore shakespeare and getting lost in his sentences... and really, i've seriously been know to take interest in the use of apostrophes... but this is neither here nor there.


julia galdo

i just have the image of abby handing me the book and i was so enthralled and delighted with the fact that there's a 12year old out there who reads for pleasure, who doesn't live to spend every free moment on that wii thing, who adores writing as much as i do, and who {as i came to discover} reads multiple books at once and enjoys them all in their moment. we both believe that we get something different from the same books every time we read them. when abby and i work together, i sit across the table from her in the cafe where we meet, and i see myself in her, and know exactly how the spinning mind in that shy, genuine, sweet head is mulling over the details and the fantasy, the spectacle and wonder of everything that dances before her in her reality and plays in the imagination....but anyway, i should go, i have another book to read...

My lover asks me

My lover asks me:
'What is the difference between me and the sky?'
The difference, my love,
Is that when you laugh,
I forget about the sky.

Nizar Qabbani

twittered moments

i twittered this just now, and then kept thinking about it,
and anyway, sometimes, there are just those moments,
or hours if you're lucky, you know, moments when everything's
the same....but it's all somehow different.....maybe i'm not making
any sense, but, well anyway those moments when you're in them
and even when you turn around and look back again and watch them..
those moments can be pretty good.

{image, again, by julia galdo..my new fav..}

...and i'm still holding my breath

i've been searching for perfect photos of roller coasters for the past few weeks, as that's the only real description of where i am right now. this has been one long ride and just when i think i've gotten up there, the hill suddenly appears fantastically higher...and i'm on the down side again......then the other day i saw these turk + taylor images and suddenly, i'd found my roller coaster photos. but the serendipity was that, in this small turn of events, i discovered a new brilliant photographer called julia galdo, who did not only this shoot but a variety of others {check out her site and flickr} that i just adore.





i'm drawn in to her view of the world and her perspective of place, the dramatic wash of color in her photos, especially against darkness, and her obvious wit and sense of humor in the details. thanks julia, i know i've said this already, but really great stuff!! within minutes i was a fan and i think i looked at every image in her flickr sets! i don't know how to not show you all of her stuff at once, but i must restrain myself, because i want to display them slowly so as to savor and appropriately appreciate how unique they are, and thus, i'll be patient!!!!





and so, the roller coaster continues. in moments like this things seem like they might look up after all, but i can't help but be terribly nervous for the next turn of events in the moment to come....





but then...i recall moments like last night for example, and i enjoy the rush...and it all seems worth it once again, it's really been a gripping ride...and i'm still holding my breath.
x c

bonne nuit.

robyn glaser

“I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, you know?”

Hemingway