les petits riens

ph: devina

it carries a chill in me. a brush of fresh air. freedom. dance. literary passion. curiosity. i love spending my days in a secluded place, reading thick paperbacks to kill time. reinhardt jazz blaring in my ears. i'm feeling strong. i'm still running, always running. j'ai finalement perdu dans mes rêves. i would write love declarations in gaelic, smoke my regular mild seven, go out without telling anybody, and shoot letters at the sky. il y avait toujours un vide, un vide très, très nul.

la joie imaginaire

ph: devina

michel legrand. "sous le ciel de paris". the same afternoon, same afternoon rain. same wind, same dryness, same traces of time on the cold linoleum tiles. i keep on inventing by writing, challenging, dreaming. it is through them that i find insanity, life, internal whispers. i still keep the flame he'd left me that september. it was raining back then, too. i was with him at his studio. same cold, white, bleak linoleum tiles. him: "long day." today, my favorite secondhand bookstore. thick hardback. iced coffee. hot apple tea. cigarettes, cigarettes, seemingly no-end of them.

i think about him. mo grà. he's with somebody else now. elle l'aime beaucoup. il n'est pas l'aime. les complications dans deux gens imparfait.

l'une des nuits

ph: devina

dream. reality.traces. missing steps. stories. i felt like floating on a personal wonderland, writing down about the personal wonderland, getting lost in there, just praying. this city. the people. smoke. cigarette butts. gypsy jazz. all i wanted was to avoid confusion and get on with life. this life.

i was probably missing something, searching something, an absolution, a truth, an echo. that would be just one of those nights. i couldn't stop thinking about you, i wanted to say. tell him. the truth. if i were to write a book, it'd be titled if i were anais.

he could be my henry

olive lights

ph: my sis

i once knew a friend who was addicted to jazz and coffee. she said she wanted nothing else than a good place to read; a good, silent place in which she could linger inside her own hardboiled wonderland. she loved to read, she loved to write, she loved to dream. all day long she told me her dreams about exploding over the city like fireworks. my raison d'etre, she said.

jamie bell

saw the eagle with my lil sister by the end of last month and i was completely blown away by his role as Esca, the briton slave. but damn it, i didn't expect the movie to be that good and detailed !