Il y a 395 jours:

Where's the fun?

Life vest under your sea

(An older photo, but a fantastic flight from Paris to Amsterdam, seated next to Dutch people with a great sense of humor.  We laughed the entire way to Schipol, and then noticed this sign upon landing and laughed some more.)

Nocturnes

...and time travel

Cien años de soledad

...in New York City.

"Many years later, when he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendìa was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice...

.... Something occurred inside of him then, something mysterious and definitive that uprooted him from his own time and carried him adrift through an unexplored region of his memory.

The handfuls of earth made the only man who deserved that show of degradation less remote and more certain, as if the ground that he walked on with his fine patent leather boots in another part of the world were transmitting to her the weight and the temperature of his blood in a mineral savor that left a harsh aftertaste in her mouth and a sediment of peace in her heart....

Tied to the trunk of the chestnut tree, huddled on a wooden stool underneath the palm shelter, the enormous old man, discolored by the sun and rain, made a vague smile of gratitude and ate the piece of cake with his fingers, mumbling an unintelligible psalm...

...In the dream he remembered that he had dreamed the same thing the night before and on many nights over the past years and he knew that the image would be erased from his memory when he awakened because that recurrent dream had the quality of not being remembered except within the dream itself."

-One Hundred Years of Solitude

Gabriel Garcìa Màrquez

Art Work Hospital

Two brave women bandaged wounded photographs with paper and foam and tape,  only resting hours later with tea and Jacques Mesrine.

 

From there to here

C'est comme si je n'étais jamais là.

It's as if I were never there.

And now, here:

what's missing

hang on