Une vie ne vaut rien...

Listening to the news is rarely a particularly cheerful  experience, but this week has been even worse than usual. I didn't even add the latest horror story, because I heard it only after I drew this comic. Rescuing snails is my way of protesting against the ruthlesness of the world.

The title is a quote from André Malraux, "une vie ne vaut rien, mais rien ne vaut une vie" (a life isn't worth anything, but nothing is worth a life.)

Dear Esther

The Dutchguy downloaded the "game" yesterday evening, and I've simply never seen anything like it before. It's a new form of art, something between a movie, a poetry book, or a song.

Strangely enough, the Dutchguy found it completelly depressing, while I thought the ending was hopeful and liberating. I can't deny that most of the piece is completelly gloomy, however, and you should probably not "play" it if you're already feeling a little depressed. But if you're not, and if you are also vaguely contemplative by nature, then you should definitely have a look at it!

A goodbye to the cold (hopefully?)

I already knew much how the dutch liked their rivers and canals; I wasn't prepared to the feeling of general euphoria provoked by an ice coat thick enough to let people walk and ice skate on it. Last saturday, I discovered the joy of playing Jesus as the Dutchguy brought brought me to walk on the water until we could no longer feel our feet.

It felt like the whole town was on the river, too. Entiere families, snack bars, barbecues had sprouted out of nowhere on the ice. It was like discovering an entierely different town.









And that's how thick the ice was! The Swamp bubbles caught into it seemed to go down for 20 cms at least. And so pwetty.

Oh, a Dutchguy on the ice. That's also roughly when we concluded that this was entierely too cold to stay outside much longer. Brrr.

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