For Whom The Bell Tolls

Reading over and over and over again my favorite Hemingway during this vacation. The quiet of the green is putting me in such a mood.

My first Hemingway was however The Old Man And the Sea, and my dear uncle gave it to me for reading during a February/March, around the end of the second trimester of my final year of primary school. I recall this time perfectly because I was a loss of words to write about the overwhelming feelings I was feeling and I couldn't express or even name them in the small essay exams we had to pass in preparation for the second trimester exam. I recall they were the worst grades I had in essays and writings to this day.

"No man is an iland, intire of it selfe; every man is a peece of the Continent, a part of the maine; if a clod bee washed away by the Sea, Europe is the lesse, as well as if a Promontorie were, as well as if a Mannor of thy friends or of thine owne were; any mans death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankinde; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee...."

Mysterious Mr. H

La ville avait saigné ses coqs
Et j'avais payé mes ardoises
La nuit noire montait sur les docks
Baignant dans une paix sournoise

Au bar de Stella Mariano
Tout au fond du quai dans la brume
On distribuait aux gringos
Les échos - d'ancienne fortune

Dans tous les bars où je frappais
Réclamant une ombre en otage
Je ne me rappelais jamais
Ni ton vrai nom - ni ton visage

Fille des rues au goût d'opium
Quartiers rouges et métamorphoses
Et je redevenais cet homme
Qui sait le prix de toutes choses
Qui sait le prix de toutes choses

Stranger Mysterious Mr.H
Stranger Mysterious Mr.H
Mysterious Mr.H
Stranger Mysterious Mr.H
Dans quelle étrange affaire
Mysterious Mr.H
Nobody knows


Dans le palais aux bleus glaieuls
Entouré de marbre et d'or
Quand le dictateur est tout seul
Et qu'il sent ricaner la mort
L'aube dorée vient sur les docks
Donner quelques sous à Manille
Ils ont ressuscité les coqs
Et je vais vous quitter les filles

Je dois transmettre mon amour
Ma sueur mon sang et puis mes larmes
En attendant vraiment je jour
Où on peut déposer les armes

Je dois repartir ma douleur
Vers les miradors de l'enfance
Vers le charbon et la sueur
Vers l'acier dont on fait des lances
Vers l'acier dont on fait des lances

Stranger Mysterious Mr.H
Stranger Mysterious Mr.H
Mysterious Mr.H
Stranger Mysterious Mr.H
Dans quelle étrange affaire
Mysterious Mr.H
Nobody knows

コリア 花咲く 火の舞うように
ロシア ツンドラに水をたたえ
メトロでキミとすれ違う朝 ザンビア 激しく命照らす
インディア 夕闇に黄泉を守り
凛々しく帰る人波の夜 見えるか黄金はここに在りて
遍くテラを行くキミを飾るよ
眠らない賢者の眼差しで
空が晴れる日に Gloria 高くと身を打ち行き
Gloria 深くと目を閉じ聞く
メトロでキミとすれ違う朝 激しく風を受け人知れず
回り出す賢者の回転翼が
訪れる昼夜の不可思議で
キミを連れて行くよ

By Leo Marks

The life that I have

Is all that I have

And the life that I have

Is yours

The love that I have

Of the life that I have

Is yours and yours and yours

A sleep I shall have

A rest I shall have

Yet death will be but a pause

For the peace of my years

In the long green grass

Will be yours and yours

and yours

Mais qu'est-ce que tu veux? Le couteau ou la cible?

His album "Faits Divers" was the first CD I ever borrowed from the French library. His songs were the first songs I ever loved. I wonder why I don't hear more about him.

I hope I will never forget him.

The Call of the Serpent

In 2011, I had a dream about an Anaconda. It has been my most loyal inersan since then.

BRILLIANT

This is BRILLIANT, GORGEOUS, SPLENDID!

JEFFWECAN

Cracked me Up XD

I need Vacation

Writing has become such an urge, such a need, I'm starting to write at work.

I believe this is a sign I have to just stop working and write.

Maybe write in the windy city, or the bride of the north. Maybe write in the comfort of the parents' house, or the solitude of a friend's one.

Dear Lord, may I just be done already.

And may the microwave be working now, I brought soup and I'm not emotionally ready to have it cold :(

Le Sigh

I often find myself dreaming of the Irish and the Slovenian landscape. When I encounter it however in the kingdom, my first thought is that I won't be able to roam such beautiful scenery by myself unless I'm begging for free risks to fall upon me.

This is sad.

There is a certain speech to some buildings that I hear. I don't know why.
Perhaps the fact that they're surrounded by modern construction of a roaring Casablanca in the city center yet manage to keep such a mystery and poverty of the old days in their looks.
Or because these are the places that get impregnated with their inhabitants or that do the inverse.
Or just an old forgotten memory resonating in some way or another through these crowded quiet roofs.

Fantastic Mr. Fox

On Rewatch

Why the cuss does it have to escalade?
Considering advice is enough. It's not an order.