Travel and gaze at the foggy sea
…Take a pencil, a keyboard, a notebook, a paper towel, whatever is in your hand in that febrile moment when you draw, intimately and instantly, what moves you when you leave… No, not leaving. When you go, from one place to another. When your soul takes roots or explodes. Or both. And finds its silences, the detours of who you are, fleeting, mutable and endless in the winds. And takes the freedom to be blue of the wild sea one day and red of the dry earth the next.
…Take a pen-holder, a Minitel, a scroll, a kitchen towel, what is trendy or your desire, and tell you, me, us, those sparks transforming us, those realities hurting us, those heights transcending us, those butterflies transmuting us.
…Take a pen, a typewriter, a diary, a bath towel, what is as quick as your mind and sing in a few words, in a brief sentence, worlds hidden in a tree, a person, an ocean or an isle… Those places piercing you, yours only for a fleeting moment because your backpack or your whole soul decide to settle there. For one second. For an entire life.
Or at least try…
To my English readers
I must warn you that the English version of the blog will be a bit behind for a while. I have lots of French material to translate and because my upcoming travels will be more intense, if the present will always be in time, past will take a bit longer to rebuild on my white screen and it might be quite messy for a little while. I hope you will understand and enjoy nonetheless… Justine
Unexpected Immobility #5
[11/11/2021]”The Wanderer above the sea of fog”
There have been such a long time since my frozen wandering unexpectedly landed into your electronic mail box. I more or less claimed to myself I would give you a seasonal summary but, a bit lost throughout the why of my fleeting writings on the web, I lost track of time… It is only today, as I have tidied up my thoughts and got a bit of time to share, I finally write you goodbye. Or maybe more accurately a see you soon.
I am not lingering on suspenseful effects indeed… It is been months since I ever wrote to you, weeks since I have been willing to keep in touch, I am at least giving you the credit of a no frills honesty. After all, my silence might have already spoken for me…
Actually, my, travelling or not, incursions, have started to lose their meaning, I have kept cyberwriting as an old habit, as an anachronistic attempt to be someone else, as a limitation to the new version of myself I have drawn through those same line. Something has been missing, my words have not been working as I want them to; but I couldn’t see clearly. Dozens of posts were awaiting in my drafts, and I didn’t want nor have time to finish it. And suddenly, sky shone bright and clear…
I was getting closer to heaven one summer morning, almost three years after my first intergalactic words, and “I was like my front page’s Caspar David Friedrich’s wanderer; I stood, dazzled and moved, above the sea of fog pierced by irregular and shy peaks”. I then understood a cycle was ending, I was back to my beginning, to my first day of cyberwords, since my inspiring paint was facing me; it was time to change my paradigm. I could let my Chrysalis behind, feed my frozen wandering with silence. And yet, not lose who I have become nor past travels I am full of.
Thus, I am choosing, today and for an unknown period of time, to fallow this writing field. I will come back when I know what flowers I want to grow, when I will have time to water them with love. For now, I am quite busy learning and doing, and I wish I could dedicate my spread free time to my still unfinished novel.
But before leaving you and as I was about to clean my unpublished drafts, I am sharing my last opinion column I have long wavered to make public; which I now deeply want to join to this goodbye, after some cut and an incubating period. That mood was part of my state for such long weeks and I want it to unperfectly testify for my weird and heavy summer.
That’s it, I have written it all, there is no last rhyme for a linger… I cant’ go back, it is time for me to reform myself, to find new fleeting words, like an humble attempts to give life to Fleeting Words that explode you, to Changing Worlds that reveal your multiple versions of yourself.
In the meanwhile, don’t mistaken: I am still a travelling heart and a poetic soul! My journey has simply changed shapes and I need to move their tale.
And it is time to give myself away to that impermanence now..
To Selene. After a heatwaved Saturday, Sunday was grey. The kind of mid-grey leaning towards white and which you wouldn’t know if it’s going to color the entire day or only a fleeting and uncertain morning. The previous day’s suffocating atmosphere had simmered down, the night’s humidity lingered; or was it only a countryside’s privilege?… Read more
National Stateless Tonight, as I was about to sink into some American readings, I was suddenly striken by the 14th of July’s familiar fireworks’ sounds. I thought Covid would have deserted night sky from its annual colors, it then took me by surprised. Without thinking twice, I jumped under my raincoat to be part of… Read more
Work in progress! Lost in Translation… Sorry for the delay.
Sun of fog – Nacre – Blue Jay – Confused – Beautiful City – Lonely Highlands – Place of Hopes – The Lady of the Lakes – Hazy Island – Colors of the Wind – Another hanging spring – Dubliner
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