Pot-pourri veinticuatro

San Francisco. July 2016. I would gladly buy the little blue house. But I understand real state prices in Frisco belong to another dimension. The Twilight Zone maybe? 🙂 Sophia Loren. A few years ago. (Gentlemen don’t tell). On the wall of a restaurant. Cuernavaca, Mexico. July 2016. The 7th (street) Art. London. 2015. Marcello…

Pot-Pourri numéro vingt-trois

“Jouet de l’océan.” The ocean’s toy. Brittany 2013. Didn’t feel like sailing on this boat. Mont-Blanc, the white mountain, 1989. One of the craziest things I have ever done. Climb Europe’s highest mountain. 4,810 metres. 15,780 ft for the non-metric trained. Cable-car, on Powell St. San Francisco, 2016. Little bunnies. At the American embassy, Conakry,…

1916. The bride wore black.

La mariée était en noir. The bride wore black. June 1916. Exactly a century ago. WWI had started two years before. Two years of massive slaughter. For nonsignificant gains in the front line in the north and northeast of France. My grandfather, Louis Prodault, his brothers, cousins and in-laws, had been fighting for two years…

The black Queen

Nguyen Van Ty was a peaceful man. He’d arrived at the small village in Tonkin many years ago. Apparently from nowhere. Some of the villagers said he had a Saïgon accent, others assured he came from the Imperial city of Hué. He was dressed as a peasant, but his manners, his education, his delicate hands…

“Doc”

  “Doc! Doc”! “What’s the matter, Raphaela? We’ll never finish on time if you keep interrupting!” “Sorry Doc, we have an emergency. The Boss is coming down to the Lab. In five minutes.” “Damn! How do you know?” “Gabby called me. And she says the Boss is in a bad mood. Very. So we’d better…

A night in Penang. By Brian Martin-Onraet and Tiffany Choong

“They will die if we do nothing,” Felicity said, pacing on the crazy pavement by the pool. “Felicity, tokek,” Gary said, “please stop pacing, tokek, you’re driving me crazy, tokek.” “Gary,” Felicity said, “stop with your tokek, it is driving ME crazy.” “Sorry, Fel’, it’s a tokek, I mean, a tick. Tokek. I agree with…

An African Easter

Originally posted on Equinoxio:
The first Easter I recall took place in Africa. I must have been 6 or so, my sister, Gaëlle about 4. A cute little “thing” with unruly golden locks and porcelain-blue eyes. And sometimes a pest of course in her older brother’s eyes. But that’s the way it goes between brothers…