I’ve created a new blog. No, it’s not about cats. It’s about beauty. And not the L’Oréal variety…
I was inspired by Bonheur Occidental and a conversation I had with its author, an extraordinary woman. Through pictures and prose, she captures sublime, ironic, whimsical, and ordinary moments of her life and catalogues her thought-provoking and moving reflections. It’s in French, so I’m afraid you anglophones won’t get the full effect, but her pictures often stand on their own.
If you get tired of my bitching (I do), take a break and head over to Everyday Splendor and relax. It’s my new sanctuary, and you’re welcome to join me there.
I've created a new blog. No, it's not about cats. It's about beauty. And not the L'Oréal variety...
I was inspired by Bonheur Occidental and a conversation I had with its author, an extraordinary woman. Through pictures and prose, she captures sublime, ironic, whimsical, and ordinary moments of her life and catalogues her thought-provoking and moving reflections. It's in French, so I'm afraid you anglophones won't get the full effect, but her pictures often stand on their own.
If you get tired of my bitching (I do), take a break and head over to Everyday Splendor and relax. It's my new sanctuary, and you're welcome to join me there.
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Pamela, I just browsed through “Bonheur Occidental” and I must admit: you were inspired by a gifted woman.
I just loved the view from Victor Hugo’s apartment, as it made me recall all those weekends spent in Paris with my ex:
j’adorais la vue depuis le bureau de Victor Hugo, de son appartement de la Place des Vosges. J’etais à Paris il y as quelques anneés avec mon ex et je me souviens toujours de cet endrois..
OK, I’m Belgian, so I’m quite used to switching between four languages.
Anyway, best of luck with Everyday Splendor – there is never enough beauty to share on this planet.
The title “Everyday Splendor” also recalls Harvey Pekar’s “American Splendor”. Your descriptive photo caption suggests a form of flash fiction, like Robbe-Grillet meets flash. Also, I find myself thinking of Proust, from whom I learned to slow down, stop, and look carefully at the ordinary.
Hi Donavan. Thank you for evoking such venerables (I know, not a noun) in the context of my assay into whatever this is! I heard that Proust sequestered himself in a room with no external stimuli just to immerse himself completely in memories so he could recapture them and describe them vividly. This is a challenging exercise, distilling impressions down to their essence. And I think it’ll be useful for my novel writing. You’re lucky if you can slow down and savor. If only everybody could!