light

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Photons of autumn — 2021/11/07

It is said that death is a fall but that its direction is relative. The soul would be eternal and, to be incarnated in a body, it must accept to die.

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Light as a prayer — 2019/12/26

The surprise is always the same. I go about my business, I wave at things, and the sun, suddenly, spreads its presence over everyday objects. Then nothing looks like anything anymore.

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The silent goddess — 2016/10/10

I must continue on the theme of light. After work last week, it was still too hot for autumn. People willingly walked barefoot in the park, young people, bare-chested and beautiful, juggling. I was too hot with my vest and windbreaker, as if from a season too far ahead of its time.

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Morning light, evening light — 2016/10/03

Morning light, evening light, the trees are caressed from east to west, but the leaves are now tired. All this summer blush eventually turned into gold, emerald, simple terracotta.

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If God is light, he is little — 2013/01/20

Light is important to us. With our narrow eyes, we swoon for a glow, a flower, a sun, or a volcano.

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Pause — 2012/11/22

The moment is smooth, almost meaningless. I miraculously have time to take a break today. The workflow has dried up.

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Recovering the morning — 2012/09/23

Since I returned to my room, I have recovered the morning, its tree yodeling at dawn, the sky attacked by birds. A sense of order rushes into my consciousness, and I believe that, in the process, even my dreams follow one another candidly, like daycare children attached to each other, waiting quietly for their turn to cross the street.

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Yin-yang — 2011/12/16

I swallowed the light. It was so brief, caught up in the clouds. It will come back since everything eventually comes back. In fact, tomorrow, the weather wizards are telling us.

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Light and demons — 2011/12/07

Since the Earth is bending a little too much, the days are getting shorter. People are moving in a city barely awake, and one would think that night has not yet fallen as their actions are so vivid and impatient. It seems that they have not fallen asleep, that they have not dreamed and, like kamikaze insects, are swirling around traffic lights.

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Light is my oxygen — 2011/11/08

Contrast is typical in the city. From concrete bleeding, we move on to the soft sieving of trees about to fall asleep, only to return, in the end, to the pharaonic angles of the buildings.

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