Au Revoir Mon Soleil

"Hunting season is over. Tomorrow, I'll be hung to death in the woods."

See, at first I really thought that animal friendly organisations were exagerating  the fate of the podenco/galgos dogs in Spain- you have to, these days, to catch people's attention and get their help.  Turns out the evidence is rather overwhelming.

Now, massacring dogs happens in many countries. But in this case, they're actually bred by humans  and then killed when they are no longer useful.. And this to a massive scale.

I'm not going to give you any link; do your own research if the topic intrigues you.
For the next post I'll try to do something cute or joyful.. Promised!


(Post title from the song "Goûte moi ce soleil" from Mannick.)

No comment.

Sunday Cuteness.

 

Real scene stolen in one of these modern -sprinter-trains-without-toilets-in-them (I refer to them as such because everytime a dutch person talks about these trains, they grumble about the fact that they're no toilets in them. Apparently it's a very big deal.) 

Anuna

I like inks. So what?
I've linked to some of my favorite songs here, here and here. Feel free to click if you'd like an example of their music.
And of course thanks to Alysia for this amazing discovery :-)

Mon moulin

This drawing is a metaphor for the fate of a place very dear to my heart, but also life in general. Night is falling, water level is rising, and we cling to our windmills and watch because, what else is there to do?

Drawing largely inspired by one of JM's poems, below (which I am not going to do him the insult to   translate. For the non french speakers, it speaks of a windmill that water is slowly surrounding, and how it's time to sing in it before it's entierely gone.)

Si le monde veut finir demain

J’irai attendre dans mon moulin

Que l’eau me lèche les bottes.

Si quelqu’un me rejoint

On chantera

-Jusqu’à ce que l’eau

Nous gonfle les poumons-

Des chants marins

Dans mon moulin.

La porte ne ferme plus

Chacun est bienvenu

Apportez vos histoires

Accordez vos guitares

Et vos cordes vocales

Ensemble nous chanterons

Le vent les vagues

Le ressac dans nos crânes

Des chants marins dans mon moulin.

                                                                               

Si le monde veut finir demain

Je t’attendrai dans mon moulin

Ne viens pas trop tard.

Mais si il fait noir

Je brûlerai ses ailes

J’en ferai un phare.

Et tu entendras

Bercée par la mer

Dans le lointain

Les chants marins de mon moulin.

Et les mouettes viendront picorer nos refrains. 

JM.C

Oud & Nieuw

Studying

People sometimes ask me how it feels to start studying again. Well, pretty much like this.

J'ai l'âme lourde encor d'amour inexprimé.

They were called Jeanette and Risette. Well, those weren't their true names, but everyone called them that way. They were sisters. One died six years ago, the other one, almost two weeks ago by now. One was my grandmother by blood, the other one, by heart.

Turns out them passing away doesn't make me love them any less. Here's a bit of virtual space to their memories, to the warmth they envelopped us with.

Ps: Title quoted from Edmond Rostand's Cyrano de Bergerac.

White Note Concert last saturday

Hello, people. Life's unexpected twists allowed me to be present, last saturday, for a gig from White Note in a parisian bar. An exceptional musical moment in a very nice, welcoming little bar. 

 

 

(That's not White Note btw, but the band that came before them.)

Food was very good too. Perhaps because life in Holland is sadly deprived of galettes de sarrasin, so each time I can get one, it's a special treat.

Another special thing about the evening was the waitress who was just awesome.

 

Drawn with waterproof ink and an old writting nib I found, and of course washes of the same ink. I would like to advise anyone against leaving a bottle of waterproof permanent black ink open in a house where there are cats.

From My Window.