The first place it appeared was in a crack between the blocks of cement on the sidewalk outside the café. I jolted to a halt and stared. By golly, if it didn’t look like “verdolaga”! Continue reading
When you think that only Mozart is beautiful, there’s no room in your life for rap.
(Byron Katie, 1000 Names for Joy)
I listen to the birds outside the window, the sound of the wind in the trees, the chimes by the door as the breeze moves them and am delighted. A large truck rumbles by, clacking, hammering its way down the pavement, an adolescent zooms through gunning his motorbike for all it’s worth, exhaust open at top volume and murderous thoughts fill my mind. Continue reading
(Author’s Note: This text, written on the first day of my second stay in Salies, goes to show how one changes with time; two years later I am a Saliescien)
Day one in Salies and one cannot understand why one does not live in France: Continue reading