The avenues are deserted on this clear evening of May. Furtive passers-by appear to avoid each other, all is silent. Inside the spacious auditorium the small orchestra is waiting. The soft light illuminates the stage, the delicate wooden surface of the violins and celli. Soon, rapid steps are heard. The conductor enters, and the musiciansContinue reading “Fratres”

Moi, Gabrielle, historienne #WritersWednesday

Originally posted on Sisyphe sur le Rivage:
J’ai donc choisi ces colonnes pour m’exprimer, plutôt que le blogue de notre auteur. Ce n’est pas que je me méfie de cet homme charmant, mais, ici, je me sens plus libre. Mais, d’abord, permettez-moi de me présenter. Je m’appelle Gabrielle, qui est le nom qui, je crois,…

Fantasy #writephoto

Thursday photo prompt   As they prepared to leave and go home – a long way away – they started fantasising… There would be an island, a secret garden, a view over the old church, new colours and space for dreaming and loving. Perhaps even a shortcut to the lake from their porch? They wouldContinue reading “Fantasy #writephoto”

A tale of two cities

  A walk in a park, and a reading of Vasily Grossman inspired those lines. There is the city by the wide river, beyond it there is only the immense steppe, to the sea. There was a turning point, they say, a combat of titans. Here, the river is slow and narrow, feeling its wayContinue reading “A tale of two cities”

The violin

  She appears suddenly, soon swept away by the camera, behind the violoncellists. Even at a live concert, he has difficulties in seeing her more than fleetingly. Yet he knows her face, a medieval beauty, inspired, aloof, as if out of a distant past. He basked in the symphonic beauty, Tchaikovsky, Alban Berg, Mahler… She’sContinue reading “The violin”

On the second paradox of Zeno

The people Marcel loves are people in motion. Like Albertine – always speeding off somewhere on a bike, on a train, in a car, on a horse or flown out of the window; like Marcel’s mother, perpetually on her way up the stairs to kiss him good night; like his grand mother, striding up andContinue reading “On the second paradox of Zeno”

On the streets #Berlin #January

  Still remnants of the past Sylvester and dead Christmas trees litter the streets, grey the walls, sad the dogs, only the crows find cause to rejoice. Sparrows sing, in the cold bushes. The city, lost in a dream, lets the clowns speak,  ignores the lies: she’s heard many others. Yet Spring will come, andContinue reading “On the streets #Berlin #January”

Encounter with an Angel, a pre-Christmas tale

  I stood waiting at the traffic lights with a few other humans, and I noticed her immediately: her posture, the recognisable signs of strength and gentleness. There are some very beautiful beings in this city, but this was enough for me to keep my eyes on her, as the traffic roared past us. SheContinue reading “Encounter with an Angel, a pre-Christmas tale”