Samy Langeraert

2012-02-01T20:06:00.002+01:00

Cologne, 2011

2012-01-31T11:38:00.001+01:00

### Somewhat overly legibly, I wrote on a sheet of paper, "We're held up indefinitely by the parade. We're going to find a phone and have a cold drink somewhere. Will you join us?" I folded the paper once, then handed it to the Matron of Honor, who opened it, read it, and then handed it to the tiny old man. He read it, grinning, and then looked at me and wagged his head up and down several times vehemently. I thought for an instant that this was the full and perfectly eloquent extent of his reply, but he suddenly motioned to me with his hand, and I gathered that he wanted me to pass him my pad and pencil. I did so – without looking over at the Matron of Honor, from whom great waves of impatience were rising. The old man adjusted the pad and pencil on his lap with the greatest care, then sat for a moment, pencil poised, in obvious concentration, his grin diminished only a very trifle. Then the pencil began, very unsteadily, to move. An "i" was dotted. And then both pad and pencil were returned to me, with a marvellously cordial extra added wag of the head. He had written, in letters that had not quite jelled yet, the single word "Delighted." The Matron of Honor, reading over my shoulder, gave a sound faintly like a snort, but I quickly looked over at the great writer and tried to show by my expression that all of us in the car knew a poem when we saw one, and were grateful.

J. D. Salinger, Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters

2012-01-03T20:47:00.003+01:00

### 'Can I come with you? Will you show me the river?' I wait for her by the door, watching her squeeze her round, pink feet into small, flat shoes and brush her very short hair with a brush which has a mirror on the back. We walk across the lawn to the kissing gate at the bottom of the garden and along the path through the high ferns. Half way down I stop to listen to a yellow-hammer, and she tells me that she doesn't know the song of one bird. Most grown-up people will never tell you that they don't know things. So farther on down the path just before it opens out on to the jetty we stop under an old oak tree so she can hear a blackbird. I know there's one up there singing this time in the morning. Just as we get there it stops and we have to wait quietly for it to begin again. Standing by the half-dead old trunk I can hear other birds in other trees and the river just round the corner washing under the jetty. But our bird is taking a rest. Something about waiting in silence makes Jenny nervous and she pinches her nose tight to stop her yelp of a laugh getting out. I want her to hear the blackbird so much I put my hand on her arm, and when I do that she takes her hand away from her nose and smiles. Just a few seconds after that the blackbird sets out on its long complicated song. It was waiting all the time for us to get settled.

Ian McEwan, "Last day of summer"

2011-12-21T12:46:00.003+01:00

Cologne, 2011

2011-12-05T10:55:00.001+01:00

My small studio was one of the many artists's studios in Venice, California, that an art tour group of 45 people planned to visit on Sunday, October 24. When the group leader and the first ten or 15 people knocked on my door, I met them wearing a gray orderly's jacket and holding a roll of tickets. I politely informed them that in order to gain access to my studio they would each have to buy a one-dollar ticket. The group leader grumbled that he had not been informed of this and that everyone had already paid the college that had organized the tour 13 dollars. Thus, he successfully discouraged some of the people who were already reaching for their wallet. However, word filtered back to the remaining 30 people about the studio with the extra one-dollar charge, and I was able to sell 12 tickets. Coming in small groups of two or three people, I gave them a thorough 20-minute tour of my studio – sleeping loft, moving mat couch, improvised shower, grocery list, file cabinet, desk, and an idea of how I spend my time in this small space.

Chris Burden, Studio Tour

2011-11-19T19:51:00.001+01:00

Cologne, 2011

2011-11-18T10:25:00.003+01:00

### My mother told me I must have slept, it was impossible not to sleep in all that time, but if I slept, it was with my eyes wide open, for I had followed the green, luminous course of the second hand and the minute hand and the hour hand of the bedside clock through their circles and semi-circles, every night for seven nights, without missing a second, or a minute, or an hour.
### The reason I hadn't washed my clothes or my hair was because it seemed so silly.
### I saw the days of the year stretching ahead like a series of bright, white boxes, and separating one box from another was sleep, like a black shade. Only for me, the long perspective of shades that set off one box from the next had suddenly snapped up, and I could see day after day after day glaring ahead of me like a white, broad, infinitely desolate avenue.
### It seemed silly to wash one day when I would only have to wash again the next.
### It made me tired just to think of it.
### I wanted to do everything once and for all and be through with it.

Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

2011-11-12T18:22:00.001+01:00

Cologne, 2011

2011-11-12T18:14:00.000+01:00

### Elle se lève à 7 heures et allume la radio. Après s'être habillée, elle lève les enfants et prépare le petit déjeuner. À 8 heures, il lui faut conduire notre fils à l'arrêt du bus scolaire. À son retour, elle doit tresser les cheveux de Carol. Je quitte la maison à 8 heures et demi, mais je sais que chacun des gestes d'Ethel, durant le reste de la journée, sera déterminée par le ménage, la cuisine, les commissions et les besoins des enfants. Je sais que, le mardi et le jeudi, elle se trouve au A & P entre 11 heures et midi, que, chaque après-midi de beau temps, elle est assise sur un certain banc dans un square; qu'elle fait le ménage le lundi, le mercredi et le vendredi, et qu'elle polit l'argenterie lorsqu'il pleut. Quand je rentre, à 6 heures, elle est généralement occupée à éplucher les légumes ou à préparer à dîner. Puis, une fois que les enfants ont mangé et pris leur bain, lorsque le dîner est prêt, que les plats et les assiettes sont disposés sur la table du salon, elle demeure immobile au milieu de la pièce comme si elle avait oublié quelque chose, et ce moment de réflexion est si profond qu'elle n'entend pas si je lui parle, ou si les enfants l'appellent. Puis c'est fini. Elle allume les quatre bougies blanches dans leurs chandeliers argentés, et nous nous asseyons devant un souper de hachis de corned-beef, ou quelque autre plat modeste.

John Cheever, "La saison des divorces" (trad. Dominique Mainard)

2011-11-12T18:01:00.005+01:00

### Comme autrefois, par habitude, à minuit précis, je me déshabille et me mets au lit. Je m'endors vite, mais avant deux heures je me réveille avec la sensation de n'avoir pas dormi du tout. Je suis obligé de me lever et d'allumer. Pendant une heure ou deux je fais les cent pas dans ma chambre, je regarde des tableaux et des photographies que je connais depuis longtemps. Quand j'en ai assez de marcher, je m'assieds à mon bureau. Je reste immobile sur mon siège, sans penser à rien ni éprouver aucun désir; si un livre se trouve devant moi, je l'approche machinalement et lis sans y prendre aucun intérêt. Ainsi, il n'y a pas longtemps, j'ai lu machinalement en une seule nuit un roman entier au titre bizarre : "Ce que chantait l'hirondelle." Ou bien, pour occuper mon attention, je me force à compter jusqu'à mille, ou je m'imagine la figure d'un de mes collègues et essaie de me rappeler en quelle année et dans quelles circonstances il a débuté. J'aime guetter les bruits. Tantôt dans la troisième chambre à partir de la mienne, ma fille prononce en rêve quelques mots rapides, tantôt ma femme traverse le salon, une bougie à la main, et laisse immanquablement tomber la boîte d'allumettes, tantôt une armoire, travaillée par la sécheresse, craque, ou bien, soudain, le brûleur de la lampe se met à ronfler, et tous ces bruits, je ne sais pourquoi, me tracassent.

Anton Tchékhov, Une banale histoire (trad. Édouard Parayre, Lily Denis)

2011-11-11T18:59:00.007+01:00

### Ce qu'il aime surtout, ce sont les ouvrages d'histoire et de philosophie; en ce qui concerne la médecine il n'est abonné qu'au Médecin qu'il commence chaque fois par la fin. Sa lecture dure toujours plusieurs heures d'affilée sans le lasser. Il ne lit pas avec la rapidité et la fébrilité qui étaient celles de Gromov jadis, mais lentement, avec pénétration, en s'arrêtant fréquemment aux passages qui lui plaisent ou qu'il ne comprend pas. À côté des livres il y a toujours un carafon de vodka et un concombre salé ou une pomme mariné à même le tapis, sans assiette. Toutes les demi-heures, sans quitter son livre des yeux, il se verse un petit verre de vodka et le vide, puis, sans regarder, cherche le concombre à tâton et grignote.
### À trois heures, il s'approche avec précaution de la porte de la cuisine, tousse et dit :
### "Daria, si je pouvais déjeuner..."
### Après son repas, assez piètre et mal servi, il va et vient dans l'appartement, les bras croisés sur la poitrine, réfléchissant. Quatre heures sonnent, puis cinq, et il en est toujours à marcher et à réfléchir. De temps à autre la porte de la cuisine grince et laisse apparaître le visage rouge, bouffi de sommeil, de Daria.
### "Je vous sers votre bière, monsieur ? demande-t-elle l'air préoccupé.
### – Non, pas encore..., répond-il. Je vais attendre un petit peu... je vais attendre..."

Anton Tchékhov, Salle 6 (trad. Édouard Parayre, Lily Denis)

2011-11-01T14:42:00.003+01:00

Paris, 2009

2011-10-26T16:29:00.004+02:00

### Mezaki m'a invitée à une dégustation de cigales de mer. Je croyais qu'elles ressemblaient à des crevettes ou à des insectes, en moins savoureux, mais les cigales de mer du restaurant où il m'a emmenée étaient incroyablement délicieuses. Elles sont servies juste ébouillantées, dans leur carapace, il faut les décortiquer en se brûlant les doigts, et leur chair est tellement douce qu'on les mange sans assaisonnement, sans même de sauce de soja. Nous en avons oublié l'heure. Nous étions dans l'impossibilité de partir. Et ce n'est qu'après la fermeture de ce restaurant, l'unique de cet endroit, que nous nous sommes rendus compte de la situation : il était trop tard pour le train, il n'y avait pas de voitures en vue, et le seul chemin qui se trouvait là ne menait nulle part. C'était une route bordée de loin en loin par des réverbères qui ne servaient à rien d'autre qu'à rendre la nuit plus noire. Avec des bosquets et des champs d'où on aurait pu voir débouler un cheval ou une vache.
### Il ne nous restait plus qu'à avancer l'un à côté de l'autre sur ce chemin qui n'a pas varié d'un pouce aussi longtemps que nous l'avons suivi.

Hiromi Kawakami, "Frôlements" (trad. Sophie Refle)

2011-10-24T14:48:00.007+02:00

Cologne, 2010

2011-09-23T18:03:00.005+02:00

### A great game that Dad and I would sometimes play on Sundays was Reconnaissance Expedition. Sometimes the Reconnaissance Expeditions were extremely simple, like when he told me to bring back something from every decade in the twentieth century – I was clever and brought back a rock – and sometimes they were incredibly complicated and would go on for a couple of weeks. For the last one we ever did, which never finished, he gave me a map of Central Park. I said, "And?" And he said, "And what?" I said, "What are the clues?" He said, "Who said there had to be clues?" "There are always clues." "That doesn't, in itself, suggest anything." "Not a single clue?" He said, "Unless no clues is a clue." "Is no clues a clue?" He shrugged his shoulders, like he had no idea what I was talking about. I loved that.
### I spent all day walking around the park, looking for something that might tell me something, but the problem was that I didn't know what I was looking for. I went up to people and asked if they knew anything that I should know, because sometimes Dad would design Reconnaissance Expeditions so I would have to talk to people. But everyone I went up to was just like, What the? I looked for clues around the reservoir. I read every poster on every lamppost and tree. I inspected the descriptions of the animals at the zoo. I even made kite-flyers reel in their kites so I could examine them, although I knew it was improbable. But that's how tricky Dad could be. There was nothing, which would have been unfortunate, unless nothing was a clue. Was nothing a clue?

Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

2011-09-19T13:10:00.005+02:00

Cologne, 2010

2011-09-18T22:35:00.009+02:00

The Way Back

tab Margaret and I had a very long and quiet walk back to iDEATH. I did not volunteer to carry her basket for her.
tab It was heavy and she was hot and sweaty and we had to stop many times for her to rest.
tab We were sitting on a bridge. The bridge was made from stones gathered at a distance and placed in their proper order.
tab "What's wrong?" she said. "What have I done?"
tab "Nothing's wrong. You've done nothing."
tab "Then why are you mad at me ?"
tab "I'm not mad at you."
tab "Yes, you are."
tab "No, I'm not."

Richard Brautigan, In Watermelon Sugar

2011-09-11T21:29:00.008+02:00

Dear Coryl,

As you and I planned, we'll spend the afternoon and evening together. We'll do some shopping, have dinner at a restaurant, maybe later stop off at the Harrisons's party. During this time, which will be considered in all respects normal time, we'll do the following piece. It will weave in and out of the everyday aspects of our day together.

Each of us will carry with us in a plastic bag a mirror (about 15'' square). During this day, whenever either of us wishes to do so, we will ask the other to be still for a moment and will look into our mirror and focus on the reflection of a part of the other's body: an eye, a mouth, the whole face, a hand, a foot or knee, etc. (...)

When we've got the part of the body we want, we'll trace with our finger tip, as slowly or rapidly as we wish, the outline of that body part; or we can fill in the outline as if painting it. When we're finished we'll put the mirror back in the bag and go on doing our shopping or whatever.

Alternatively, we may want to carry out a variation of this activity. One of us will decide at some particular time to ask the other to be still for a moment, will look at a part of the other's body directly: an ear, a hip or back, a crotch, a finger. Then instead of tracing the outline of that part on the mirror, or filling it in, we'll trace it on the other's body.

This, too, will be a kind of editing or choosing; and how we do it will depend on how we feel and what we're thinking. Our touch can be detached, or tender, or absorbed in curiosity; it can be very brief or extended. And during all these times we'll be free to talk as usual, and to talk about what's happening. These two alternative activities can be carried out in any order or repetition.

Throughout the day, and depending on where we are in public or alone, we can also ask one another to modify how a particular part of our body is to be seen: by changing a position, adding or removing an object like a glass of water, adding or removing some clothes. If we're asked to take off our clothes, sexual feelings are not necessarily the point of the piece, but neither are they excluded. (...)

Where the "piece" is and where it isn't is up to each of us to decide. (...) Finally, the piece is meant to honor your birthday this December 21st. But if we wish we can extend it beyond this day.

with love,
your Allan

Allan Kaprow, score for Piece for Coryl's Birthday

2011-08-24T16:31:00.005+02:00

Cologne, 2010

2011-07-03T17:36:00.005+02:00

tab Gertrude était une vagabonde. (...) Volubile, maigrichonne et crasseuse, elle errait d'une maison à l'autre dans le quartier de Blenhollow, nouant et dénouant des alliances fondées sur son attachement à des bébés, des animaux, des enfants de son âge, des adolescents et parfois des adultes. En ouvrant votre porte le matin, vous trouviez Gertrude assise sur les marches du perron. En entrant dans la salle de bain pour vous raser, vous trouviez Gertrude assise sur le siège des toilettes. En regardant dans le berceau de votre fils, vous le trouviez vide et, après une enquête approfondie, vous découvriez que Gertrude l'avait emmené en promenade dans sa poussette jusqu'à la petite ville voisine. La fillette était serviable, envahissante, honnête, affamée et loyale. Elle ne rentrait jamais chez elle de son propre chef. Quand l'heure était venue de s'en aller, elle ignorait tous les signaux qui le lui indiquaient. "Rentre chez toi, Gertrude.", entendait-on les gens lui répéter dans une maison ou une autre, jour après jour. "Rentre chez toi, Gertrude. C'est l'heure de rentrer chez toi, Gertrude." "Tu ferais mieux de rentrer chez toi pour dîner, Gertrude." "Je t'ai déjà dit de rentrer chez toi il y a vingt minutes, Gertrude." "Ta mère doit être en train de s'inquiéter, Gertrude." "Rentre chez toi, Gertrude, rentre chez toi."

John Cheever, "Le démon de midi" (trad. Dominique Mainard)

2011-07-03T17:35:00.004+02:00

Cologne, 2010

2011-05-05T16:14:00.009+02:00

tab She said she'd been thinking about an elderly couple she took to doctors and helped at home sometimes. They all watched daytime TV and the woman kept looking at her husband to check his reaction to whatever the people on the screen were saying or doing. But he didn't have a reaction, he never even noticed that she was looking (...). They lost things all the time and spent hours and then days trying to find them, the mystery of disappearing objects, eyeglasses, fountain pens, tax documents, keys of course, shoes, one shoe, both shoes, and Jessie liked looking, she was good at it, all three of them moving through the apartment talking, looking, trying to reconstruct. The couple used old-fashioned fountain pens fed by actual ink. They were nice people, unfilthily rich, losing, misplacing, dropping all the time. They dropped spoons, dropped books, lost toothbrushes. They lost a painting, by a famous living American, that Jessie found at the back of a closet. Then she watched the wife look at her husband to note his response and she realized that she'd become part of the ritual, one watching the other watch the other.

Don DeLillo, Point Omega

2011-04-16T18:35:00.009+02:00

Die Süddeutsche Zeitung

2011-04-16T18:15:00.007+02:00

tab Vicente said: I wanted to be a doctor. I wanted to be a doctor with my whole heart.
tab I learned every bone, every organ in the body. What is it for? Why does it work?
tab The school said to me: Vicente, be an engineer. That would be good. You understand mathematics.
tab I said to the school: I want to be a doctor. I already know how the organs connect. When something goes wrong, I'll understand how to make repairs.
tab The school said: Vicente, you will really be an excellent engineer. You show on all the tests what a good engineer you will be. It doesn't show whether you'll be a good doctor.
tab I said: Oh, I long to be doctor. I nearly cried. I was seventeen. I said: But perhaps you're right. You're the teacher. You're the principal. I know I'm young.
tab The school said: And besides, you're going into the army.
tab And then I was made a cook. I prepared food for two thousand men.
tab Now you see me. I have a good job. I have three children. This is my wife, Consuela. Did you know I saved her life?
tab Look, she suffered pain. The doctor said: What is this? Are you tired? Have you had too much company? How many children? Rest overnight, then tomorrow we'll make tests.
tab The next morning I called the doctor. I said: She must be operated immediately. I have looked in the book. I see where her pain is. I understand what the pressure is, where it comes from. I see clearly the organ that is making the trouble.
tab The doctor made a test. He said: She must be operated at once. He said to me: Vicente, how did you know?

Grace Paley, "A Man Told Me the Story of His Life"

2011-04-04T18:34:00.009+02:00

tab At this moment, as so often happens in London, there was a complete lull and suspension of traffic. Nothing came down the street; nobody passed. A single leaf detached itself from the plane tree at the end of the street, and in that pause and suspension fell. Somehow it was like a signal falling, a signal pointing to a force in things which one had overlooked. It seemed to point at a river, which flowed past, invisibly, round the corner, down the street, and took people and eddied them along, as the stream at Oxbridge had taken the undergraduate in his boat and the dead leaves. Now it was bringing from one side of the street to the other diagonally a girl in patent leather boots, and then a young man in a maroon overcoat; it was also bringing a taxi-cab; and it brought all three together at a point directly beneath my window; where the taxi stopped; and the girl and the young man stopped; and they got into the taxi; and then the cab glided off as if it were slept on by the current elsewhere.

Virginia Woolf, A Room of One's Own

2011-04-04T18:22:00.008+02:00

From George Spater & Ian Parsons, Porträt einer ungewöhnlichen Ehe

2011-01-02T21:03:00.013+01:00

"Masculine", "Feminine"

From Marianne Wex, "Weibliche" und "männliche" Körpersprache als Folge patriarchalischer Machtverhältnisse

2011-01-02T20:53:00.005+01:00

Télérama

2010-10-14T12:40:00.009+02:00

tab On Franzen's desk sit a pair of earplugs that he wears when he writes, over which he places noise-cancelling headphones that pipe "pink noise" – white noise at lower frequency. His computer has had its card removed, so he cannot be tempted by computer games. The ethernet port has been physically sealed, so he can't connect to the internet. While writing The Corrections, he even wore a blindfold as he touch-typed.

Ed Pilkington, guardian.co.uk, Saturday 25 September 2010

2010-10-13T22:21:00.007+02:00

Télérama

2010-08-28T17:10:00.013+02:00

tab Jusqu’à présent, les mineurs ensevelis continuent d’afficher un calme et un sang-froid exemplaires. Mais les sauveteurs redoutent que certains soient victimes, un jour ou l’autre, d’une grosse déprime. Ils ont pour objectif de maintenir la cohésion et le moral du groupe. Les familles des «33» ont été invitées à entretenir avec eux un courrier régulier et «positif», ce qu’elles font avec joie.
tab Ils vont recevoir de quoi se livrer à des activités ludiques : jeux de cartes, dominos, enregistreurs vidéo. Les équipes de secours leur ont conseillé de multiplier les occupations collectives, de chanter, ou d’improviser des pièces de théâtre. On leur a demandé d’analyser les eaux de ruissellement, de dresser une carte de leur environnement souterrain. Un calendrier de travail, diurne et nocturne, est à l’étude afin de créer une routine salvatrice pour les mineurs restés sous terre.

Jean-Pierre Langellier dans Le Monde daté du samedi 28 août 2010

2010-08-26T22:19:00.013+02:00

"Thus each day began."

From Katharina Hepburn, African Queen oder Wie ich mit Bogart, Bacall und Huston nach Afrika fuhr und beinahe den Verstand verlor

2010-08-24T19:27:00.010+02:00

"In the strawberry season, Finns find many uses for the fresh fruit."

CARNIVAL

"The tone is set on the Thursday with Weiberfastnacht (the Women's Carnival) when wives lord it over their husband and their friends' husbands, dancing and playing with whom they choose, and nobody knows or worries who beneath the masks and costumes is married to whom... Even if someone felt like blushing, you wouldn't be able to tell under all the clown make-up... Sunday it's the kids' turn to parade through the streets. Rosenmontag (Rose Monday) brings the biggest procession of all, with hundreds of elaborate floats displaying papiermâché masks of popular and unpopular political figures in invariably undignified postures."

2010-07-21T21:40:00.004+02:00

Paris, 2010

2010-07-21T21:29:00.008+02:00

tab La ville la plus proche de la ferme-prison est à vingt-cinq kilomètres. De nombreuses forêts de pins se dressent entre la ferme et la ville et c'est dans ces forêts que travaillent les forçats. Ils recueillent la résine. La prison elle-même est dans la forêt. On la trouve à l'extrémité d'un chemin de terre rouge à ornières, les fils de fer barbelés se déployant comme une vigne au-dessus de ses murs. À l'intérieur, vivent cent neuf Blancs, quatre-vingt-dix-sept Nègres, et un Chinois. Il y a deux dortoirs, dans de longs bâtiments verts, en bois, avec des toits de papier goudronné. Chaque dortoir comporte un gros poêle ventru, mais les hivers de la région sont froids, et la nuit, tandis que les pins gelés se balancent et qu'une clarté glaciale tombe de la lune, les hommes étendus sur leurs couchettes de fer demeurent éveillés, avec les rougeoiements du feu dansant dans leurs yeux.

Truman Capote, La guitare de diamants

2010-07-21T21:15:00.007+02:00

tab Dehors la pluie avait cessé. Il n'en restait qu'une vapeur dans l'air. Je pris le tournant et suivis la rue jusqu'à l'endroit où se dresse la maison de pierre brune. C'est une rue avec des arbres qui en été dessinent des ombres fraîches sur le trottoir. Mais en cette saison les feuilles avaient jauni et la plupart étaient tombées; la pluie les avait rendues glissantes et elles dérapaient sous les pieds. La maison brune est à mi-chemin du bloc, contre une église où l'horloge bleue du clocher sonne les heures. Une élégante porte noire a remplacé l'ancienne, en verre dépoli, et de distingués volets gris habillent les fenêtres. Aucun des locataires d'autrefois n'y habite encore, à l'exception de Mme Sapphia Spanella, chanteuse à la voix rauque, qui, chaque après-midi, allait patiner à roulettes dans Central Park. Je sais qu'elle est encore là parce que j'ai gravi les marches et inspecté les boîtes à lettres. C'est une de ces boîtes qui m'avait autrefois révélé Holly Golightly.

Truman Capote, Petit déjeuner chez Tiffany (trad. Germaine Beaumont)

2010-07-10T14:31:00.008+02:00

Paris, 2009

2010-07-08T18:36:00.011+02:00

tab He knew something was going ot happen to him. He knew something was going to happen to him. His blood stopped beating. All the time it had been beating like drum noises and now it had stopped. They started down the hill. It was a steep hill, full of trees painted white from the ground up four feet. They looked as if they had ankle-socks. He gripped Hazel Weaver's arm. "It gets damp as you go down," he said, looking around vaguely. Hazel Weaver shook him off. In a second, he gripped his arm again and stopped him. He pointed down through the trees. "Muvseevum," he said. The strange word made him shiver. That was the first time he had ever said it aloud. A piece of gray building showed where he pointed. It grew larger as they went down the hill, then as they came to the end of the wood and stepped out on the gravel driveway, it seemed to shrink suddenly. It was round and soot-colored. There were columns at the front of it and in between each column there was an eyeless woman holding a pot on her head. A concrete band was over the columns and the letters MVSEVM were cut into it. Enoch was afraid to pronounce the word again.

Flannery O'Connor, The Heart of the Park

2010-07-07T22:05:00.022+02:00

From a small leaflet about a Chinese temple, published in the 1970s

2010-07-06T17:42:00.018+02:00

tab She stopped to straighten her socks, which had crawled down into her shoes; and she decided then to wait a moment, wondering how long it would take Clyde to realize he'd left her behind. On the corner was an open-air store, and the sidewalk there was like an amazing garden where fountains are fruit and the flowers are arranged in bunches of large parasols. Clyde stood an instant there, then walked rapidly back to meet her. And she wanted to hurry him through the streets, hide with him in the dark of the apartment. But: "Go across the street," he said, "and wait for me in front of that drugstore."

Truman Capote, Summer Crossing

2009-06-30T17:14:00.015+02:00

Fagnières, 2008

2009-06-25T19:20:00.022+02:00

Glasgow, 2009

2009-06-25T19:05:00.010+02:00

Untitled, 2009

2009-06-19T14:05:00.027+02:00

Paris, 2009

2009-06-09T12:28:00.104+02:00

esp

wea

grand

esp

micre

spaces

2009-06-05T16:38:00.108+02:00

Berlin, 2008

2009-06-04T16:29:00.011+02:00

Sartrouville, 2008

Pontoise, 2008

2008-07-09T19:43:00.020+02:00

Berlin, 2008

2008-06-26T20:03:00.006+02:00

Paris, 2008

2008-02-29T21:17:00.014+01:00

Leipzig, 2007

2008-02-03T13:28:00.010+01:00

"it's like a guitar, only it's made of air"

"an average community with normal people doing fun things together"

The New York Times

2007-12-20T19:16:00.007+01:00

"Tricks Help Moths Say 'Don't Eat Me' in Many Ways"

"It carried the harpoon for the next 115 years before finally being killed by a modern one."

"They build the bridges with their living bodies..."

"We've seen horses swerve before..."

The New York Times

2007-12-20T18:50:00.005+01:00

Paris, 2007

Berlin, 2007

2007-11-26T19:30:00.003+01:00

Berlin, 2007

2007-11-16T00:08:00.010+01:00

2007-08-31T14:09:00.003+02:00

2007-08-15T23:23:00.006+02:00

2007-08-13T14:21:00.005+02:00

"Inside of the Room as seen from the Window"

2007-08-13T14:07:00.004+02:00

2007-08-13T13:54:00.004+02:00

2007-08-13T13:31:00.005+02:00

2007-07-08T17:53:00.008+02:00

From a book called Les monstres de la nature

2007-07-02T21:42:00.005+02:00

From the flea market

2007-06-08T10:38:00.005+02:00

2007-06-08T10:31:00.005+02:00

From the flea market

2007-06-06T16:16:00.005+02:00

From a book on Finland

2007-05-31T18:15:00.010+02:00

From the flea market

From the fleamarket

2007-05-31T16:56:00.011+02:00

"He sometimes referred to himself as 'Question Mark'"

"She said she was miraculously cured"

"The paintings have been scrutinized by connoisseurs"

The New York Times

2007-05-24T23:46:00.008+02:00

A tracing found in a book on Brittany called La Bretagne que j'aime

2007-05-24T22:58:00.009+02:00

"Provence / Végétation / Flore méditerranéenne"

2007-05-24T22:51:00.007+02:00

From a Berlin flea market

2007-05-21T19:54:00.011+02:00

Paris, 2007

(Why do things look more real when you see them through a fence?)

2007-05-16T10:42:00.007+02:00

esp

2007-05-16T10:21:00.004+02:00

2007-05-10T21:58:00.004+02:00

2007-05-09T13:48:00.005+02:00

Mauritius, island in the sun. History, population, scenery. Photographs by André Chastel and Philippe Schall.

2007-05-08T14:53:00.005+02:00

Paris, 2007

2007-05-08T14:45:00.002+02:00