The gravity centre of the Family was the house in the Var, Claviers. Aka La Clarté, which means both The Light and The Clarity. Ever so fitting. In the French Deep South, skies are Transvaal-blue, hills undulate towards the horizon, the Sun blazes and silence is only broken by cicadas. Mental, sensorial, social isolation. There the Family can forever be foreigners in their own country. Like colonials.
40 years ago, Claviers in the South of France. Suzanne sits in her chair in the living room. She sits straight upright. As always, as proper. 90 degree angle between spine and thighs, that is what Mother has said. No slouching. That is not ladylike! Rather more frighteningly, this is…
This is a society that existed but no one remembers. This is a society that existed but no one wants to remember. This is a society that was already forgotten even when it existed. This is a society between societies, a time between times, a world between worlds. They were…
Social media does often gives you a sense of inadequacy. Hair falls like this, bodies look like that, the soufflé always rises and stays up. And, of course, when they clear their basement, “they” find the missing Rembrandt hidden in a crate, forgotten for centuries, just waiting to be found....
Doom diving from on high, whooshing past the balcony. Adjusting angle and speed for the perfect hit. No hesitation, no brakes, terminal velocity. Darting to and fro, like a loony woodpecker. Hovering an instant, blinking out of existence the next. Gravity? Flight envelope? Nah, one last wink over its shoulder...
Bed Wall Desk I lie. I stare. I read. Nothing in Nature is unbeautiful – Tennyson Desk Wall Bed I lie, eyes open. I stare, eyes open. I read. Eyes open. No price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself. – Kipling Bed Balcony Desk I sit. I...
Death and taxes. The only certainties, apparently. What about aging? Franklin forgot that one in his famous quote. Aging, a subtle and universal process that never stops: we love it at first, then forget about it for a few years, dread it and finally loathe it. Every morning in the...
I was born Here. That’s what I was repeatedly being told. Also, I lived Here because Here was best for everything. Primarily because the schools were really good. Of course, Elsewhere, it was warmer, nicer, cheaper, more colourful, and definitely more exciting, more interesting. Elsewhere was, in one word, better. That is...
“You never enter the same river twice” ~ Heraclitus the Obscure aka Heraclitus of Smyrna That was tradition. It was their tradition. Theirs. They just knew each other’s exact thoughts as they happened: glimpses of Zanzibar, Dar-Es-Salam, Conakry… So many harbours, so many colours, so many times. They were standing side...
Did you ever find out that your house was shielded from evil spirits by an ancient spell? I know, right! By now, I should not be surprised anymore by the underlying sub-plot of mystical, spiritualist beliefs I keep stumbling on in photos, texts, mementoes. Like pictures of ancestors where all the eyes...
And so, after a brief trip down South to Claviers, the first crates of memories start piling up in my office. Like the memories of youth, they come as a mud-slide of materials, un-processed, raw, and yet, with an underlying narrative. Still, I have now a large part of the verifiable...
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