yes, it’s fucking political – skunk anansie
city of angels – the distillers
shut your mouth – garbage
codification – laetitia sheriff
c’mon billy – PJ harvey
stolen car – beth orton
love is place – metric
leisure suite – feist
you’ll be the death – shannon wright
you file – denali
catch my fall – katy rose
not with you – tegan & sara
i don’t blame you – cat power

hey – the pixies

moleskine update after three months of shooting without fixing my own trace on paper. i’m now looking at images of what seems like a whole different time. back then…well, back then…

i feel like three months ago is back then…

but that isn’t the oddest, though. no, the oddest is to realize that i have now at least a word for each picture i have made, it’s to have a close look at each picture as part of a whole and not just an element of a series, when series are mostly determined by places and times.
the moleskine makes it a whole, i guess.

it was about time that i took a bit of time for myself.
why is it generally when you miss something that you realize its importance in your life ? the place it took, the time you put into it. why is it generally when you find back something that you realize how much you’ve missed it ?
like it doesn’t have an importance in itself. like you have to lose a taste to be able to enjoy it again. like you have to let go a time to cherish the memories you have of it.
is it what we’re all made of ?
is it what we all make our lives of ?
finding and losing and missing and finding again, just so that we can lose and miss again ?

rarely, though, it’s possible to take a step back from the good moments lived and think how precious they are, and know, at that instant, before running again, that they’re going to be unforgettable…
it doesn’t help them not going slowly away, it doesn’t help them not fading slowly out, eventually, everything melts into some blur, eventually everything becomes so distant that i often have the feeling that i’m not living just one life, but that i’ve already lived a thousand…

i’m filling pages with small pieces of pictures and memories.
and soon, i know, there won’t be blank pages of these past months anymore.
but i’m not scared of blank pages, i’m not scared of losing and missing, i’m scared of finding again knowing that it’s only one point on that circle…

don’t tell anyone what you’ve seen on the road to nowheresville…

i’m standing still for a moment staring at the window is it real outside ?
i’ve lost the count, i used to make a count, the count of what i see and what i can’t, details of blanket skies, open arms and wandering cats, at night the lights that blind, faces that blend and combine into tired parades, it’s self-hypnosis and i’ve lost the count,
i’ve lost the count.

march was on its way now it’s july soon is it fake inside ?
i’m looking for a mental image the image of something that once was, it’s july soon i keep in mind it’s july soon i can’t remember how to forget anything, through the open window i hear what it is i’m in, the heat that blinds, the sun that blends and combines the noises around, it’s self-hypnosis, april was on its way now it’s july soon.

i had this dream last night or the night before or in a few nights i had this dream that i want to explore, there was the hill where the trees have been cut down then i was in a car on a highway with doors, i had this dream where i couldn’t focus, where i couldn’t stop the car, there’s a wheel but i’m not the one driving then i’m on the bridge i feared in previous dreams except i’m grown up now i can’t fly now, dark towers on water are what i remember of a city too big for me to fit in i’m as lost in it as i always was, « forget me » the dream said, « cause i won’t forget you », i had this dream that seemed so real when i woke up,
i felt the room dangling.

i’m standing still for a moment staring at the window is it real outside ?
i’ve lost the count, i used to make a count, the count of what is me and what isn’t, it used to be easy to see, the detachment from my body, fragments of memories, words that blind, looks and gestures that blend and combine into empty dances, it’s self-hypnosis and i’ve lost the count,
i’ve lost the count…