December 15, 2012


A light in the snow

A touch of warmth

When your heart feels so cold and sad

Oh, So sad

Broken hearts

Will it bring  a little comfort

Knowing that others

Share the deep pain and

Tragic loss ?

Thoughts of love and


for all those

Who lost a cherished child

A loved one

A dear friend






seeing differently

December 3, 2011

I wonder what comes to your mind first as you are looking at this picture ? A bunch of petals ? Allium sativum’s skin ? A   broken heart ? Or something else ?

How would you feel if suddenly your world would look in yellow or red or blue or whatever colour you cannot imagine right now ? Would it change anything for you ?

This is not a recent picture. Since the time I took this portrait of a lady deeply concentrated on her work, I could not figure out what exactly she was doing. I am always shy to take pictures of people in the street. The scene was so special, the mood in her workshop too, I just had “to click” from the street. From the various phials, pens and tools I had a quick glimpse at, I imagine she was doing some sort of calligraphy. What would you say she was making ? What do you see ?

Last Summer I visited a gallery in my hometown. There were two artists who presented their artworks. A lady (Mathilda Raboud) who had created some funny, cheeky and unusual ceramic angels and an Italian artist from Florence, Rosario Memoli. He had  worked with all sorts of textiles that he either sewed or stuck on a white canvas. It was  abstract art, a kind of reflection on the way space is organised between immobility and movement.

I know it is abstract art… but I could not help seeing it differently. Or rather finding a meaning to his particular creations.  Laugh if you want but it is what I seem to see in the  above picture : a proud rooster is chasing away a black and white sheep while his favourite polka dot hen is quietly nibbling at a flower 🙂

Same sort of tragedy with this other artwork by Memoli… I see a sort of hen (yes, again) and a strange mythological creature with a dangerous looking dented tail. They seem to be arguing. Could the reason be the many colourful seeds in the upper right corner that both are coveting ?  See the way my imagination takes over sometimes ?;)

For a long time artists have  shown us how to see and think differently. They taught us that there are as many ways as there are people since we all see everything differently. A liberating gift, isnt’ it ?

Rosario Memoli’s artworks bore no title. Maybe the artist intended to free our imagination ?  The writer Eugène Ionesco wrote in his book “Découvertes” :

An artwork is a series of interrogations. Since there is a construction, one can consider a work as an architecture of interrogations. Every artwork must be brought into question”.

Quiet Sunday

November 28, 2010

A silent whiteness everywhere

Sky and soil of the same shade

Pale and grey in the early morning light

A palpable coldness through the window

A curtain that softens the wintery touch

Snow on a  quiet Sunday morning.

Pieces of a quilt – 1

September 2, 2010

Like moments in a life. A WIP or work in progress that I will share with you as memories come back and inspiration helps them  taking  shape.  I will try to blend in memories, my own perceptions of events together with fabrics, colours, patterns. Anything that will help illustrating someone´s life.

Circles that could be the years of a life,  like tree rings. They appear smooth and regular although some entangled rays  encircle those rings. They are  joyfully radiating from the core of this life and also somehow confusing in their dispersed directions. Life in its fullness.

In the South the light is bright at sunset;  a few drops of  rain have refreshed the  valley. A day of laughter and smiles, and maybe  also of tears and darker thoughts.  Life is never a long quiet river. One goes through so many emotions during a lifetime.

Then  in the morning the sun  shines anew over the luxuriant vegetation; a bright sun of hope whose rays warm one´s heart.  Dreams may come true.

To leave, not far

June 27, 2010

“To leave,  not far, just somewhere else”

This is the  meaning of these words in French. The card is drawn by an artist named “marie-antoinette” and I chose it to say good-bye to two of my friends who died a few weeks ago.  Hence my silence on this blog. I just did not feel like writing, please excuse my absence.

They were friends of mine but they did not know each other. We had been writing to one another for about thirteen years. Hundreds of letters from outside to inside and vice versa.  We shared our daily lives, present and past,  our joys as well as our sorrows, our regrets and our hopes, our memories, our reflections and just  anything we felt like writing about.  “Writing – someone said – is like sharing a piece of soul“; nothing was more true than these words in our correspondance.

As fate would have it,  both of my penfriends – and friends –  left on the same day. No accident nor illness, their death was scheduled. It is very difficult for me to explain how I have been feeling since then. Incredulity and shock would be some of my feelings, for sure.  Sadness, helplessness too. And little by little, a feeling of peace for I know they reached the Light that had been so far away in almost half of their life.

Before he left, R. had written this prayer that I wish to share with you  on this Sunday morning:

Holy Spirit, mysterious, ever-present yet invisible,

You are the light of our souls even when we are in darkness.

At the beginning, you brought the Son of God into this dark world, the light of life itself.

You led Jesus to his passion and your eternal spirit was there when he was on the cross.

I greatly need your help and light right now.

Help me that I do not close the eyes of my soul to you out of confusion or fear.

Help all those around me who struggle in the same darkness.

Help each of us in our present sorrow, distress and horror,

To know that you are with us, guiding, strengthening with our gifts of courage, wisdom and understanding.

Lift up our spirits even when there appears to be no human hope.


A gentle curve

February 18, 2010

“If your mind becomes firm like a rock

And no longer shakes

In a world where everything is shaking,

Your mind will be your greatest friend

And suffering will not come your way.”



January 14, 2010

Thinking of Haiti…

Reaching out to those in dire need

Working hand in hand to help saving lives

Giving a helping hand to heal bodies and minds

Being together hand in hand to reconstruct

Being on hand to listen, comfort, support.

with every breath

October 11, 2009

bisse, arch 1

“With every breath I take today,

I wow to be awake;

And every step I take,

I vow to take with a grateful heart

So I may see with eyes of love

Into the hearts of all I meet,

To ease their burden when I can

And touch them with a smile of peace”.

A poem I like and whose author I do not know. I hope it is inspiring to you as it is to me.

High Window

July 17, 2009


“Rather than words comes the thought of high windows:
The sun-comprehending glass,
And beyond it, the deep blue air, that shows
Nothing, and is nowhere, and is endless. ”

Excerpt of a poem by Philip Larkin

An old wooden house  in an almost deserted village. A  small window under the roof. No one is living there any longer. The curtain is pulled halfway across the opaque glass.   Just enough to let in a patch of blue sky. When I pass in front of the sunburnt wooden facade, I look up and imagine life that used to be behind the  high window.  Was it the bedroom of a large family or a bachelor’s housing ? A room under a corrugated iron roof that must have been too hot in Summer and freezing cold in Winter.  The stove was on the groundfloor, no heating upstair.

I imagine the thoughts that flew to the sky as a hand pulled the curtain.  Thoughts of  other places over the mountains. Desires of leaving the village for a better living. Dreams of knowing more of the world beyond the narrow valley.  Or were they thoughts of happiness  and comfort to live in the place of one’s roots ? I imagine the confidences swept away by the wind as one opened the high window… Cool mountain air that would refresh old walls and nurture one’s soul.  A small high window to let the sunshine in.


January 28, 2009

Today is one of those slow days. Is it the extreme coldness outside ? It is -5°C and a North wind  just freezes everything. Nothing seems to move apart from an occasional crow gliding over the forest or small birds dashing from the roof to the nearest tree in the garden. The house is quiet too, everyone went off early, and I have been left with a rare and precious gift : silence.

silenceIt is not as if I did not like sounds, the usual music of life but sometimes it just seems too noisy to me. Radio, TV, telephone, cell phones, works on the road or on a building site… When you stop for a while and really listen, can you hear silence around you ? I am lucky because often I can and today is one of those days, wrapped like a present. I can hear myself think and it is a beautiful inner feeling.

I would like to share with you some quotes and thoughts I read every day in a little brochure called “The Monastic Way”. Most of them are from Joan Chittister. This month it is all about “silence”.as-if-meditatingSilence frees us to be ourselves again. It gives us the opportunity to hear out what we ourselves really think about anything. It saves us from having to borrow our opinions.

Silence is the ground for a good relationship. When we listen to the other, we get to know them and they get to love us. It is silence that brings us into intimacy both with others and with God.

“Silence writes Edith Wharton, may be as variously shaded as speech”. Some silence is hard and bitter. Some silence is soft and pliant. Some silence is thoughtful and searching. Some silence is calm and receptive. Some silence is cowardly and weak, Each of them has a purpose and an end. Choose wisely.

Sydney Smith says “He had occasional flashes of silence that made his conversation perfectly delightful.”

Silence requires us to attend to the turmoil within us. It refuses to allow us to ignore our own greatest questions in life.epilobeSilence is not a sign of the death of us. It is the sign that something else is growing in us which, if we nurture it, will finally express itself as a finer edition of ourselves.

The world is not waiting for more noise from us. It is waiting for us to say the truths that can only be born of Silence.

There is no virtue in keeping Silence in the face of injustice. Carol Rittner, RSM writes, “Silence always helps those who cause the suffering, never the victim”.

Alice Walker writes “No person is your friend who demands your Silence or denies your right to grow”.

Constant activity does no more than inactivity. There are some things in life that can’t be forced and can’t be heard in the midst of noise. “Sitting still”, the Zen master teaches, doing nothing. Spring comes and the grass grows by itself”.encounter-1I know many of us live busy, noisy days, we cannot always avoid it. But I wish everyone would receive this wonderful gift of Silence or/and find in your heart your own silence.