Life.. Mine will always be the dusty sunshine in primeval shadows, the essential humanity and its truths, the untold adventures and the forbidden mysteries. These keep me alive. These are truly alive. A world of infinite possibilities beyond mundane logics.
Cameroon, Mari River. It is drier than Katanga, more primal, rawer. The monkey crawls up to nestle in the crook of her elbow. Both hands tucked in her apron, Suzanne looks at the view. Their view. Later tonight, an exhausted François and his team will emerge from the treeline, after…
She will forever be, for any of them, the one that abandoned her child. She could never fix that, why even try?
“Life is a sh*t sandwich you bite every day.” ~ Suzanne Dulière, 1982, verbatim.
Caudéran looked somehow more dangerous than Congo. Well, wielding a 16 gauge shotgun, as she had done there, was not what the Polite Society expected. So, in with the glistening fence. She chides herself at the remark, dismissing any criticism. However amusing it sounded, you did not Want to Get…
Once, the path to the office had been nothing more than a trail in the grass, a vague outline snaking towards the woods, the hills and the streams to explore. Now, weeks later, it was a grove dug by shuffling feet, brushing shoulders, careless spades and freshly sharpened machetes, sanded…
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…
Every evening in the savannah, it is the same. The roaming band has to organise for the night. A temporary shelter to protect itself from predators, animals or otherwise. As they move tomorrow, nothing too fancy, and mainly relying greatly on the individuals in the group. That was then, at...
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...
The last piece of furniture has been disposed of. It was the worms that got all of them. Some, most maybe, were 150 years of memories written in wood. Eaten through, shedding little showers of sawdust every now and then, when you nudged them. Hours, weeks, months spent to try...
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...
August 16, 2024
My Heritage | Travel Trunks and Suitcases
August 2, 2024
August 9, 2024
August 30, 2024
From Ghent to Likasi, the Heart of Darkness
September 20, 2024
November 15, 2024
November 1, 2024
WWI in Soissons, Henri Penotet and the Big Bomb
November 8, 2024
November 29, 2024
December 6, 2024