this is a family portrait we are treading that path altogether. Somehow the wind thought we ought to be there at this very time, here, altogether: five of us, specks of dust on a silver screen. Beings pushed around, running left to right through the platform of this old game called life. xxx, Noémie.
as the sun disappeared behind the horizon the clouds make way, scattered set the sky ablaze, sun.
This is...a flashback,slice of a previous life.from a time way backwhen I was around 10sharing apricotswith dear lama Purtse. ‘lama apricots’that’s how we called him.he practiced his whole lifewith the same certaintyalone or with plenty,he was always there,diligentlydedicating his lifeto the three sacred jewels:the Buddha, Dharma, Sangha.I remember him fondly:apricots, dharma and consistency. Lama Purdse … Continue reading Lama apricots
give up your idols they're no longer needed but carve your own path out of the driftwood given to you, freely. that's all there is to it. that's all there is to it. ~~~ An owl appearing out of a piece of driftwood I was carving... xxx, Noémie.
Fairy tales are all man made. Women wouldn't write stories portraying themselves as such shallow, vain, fragile roses. If a woman was to write such tale about her rescue, she would have her own weapons. No swords, spears or javelins, but she would use her own brains instead of phallic objects. She would talk the … Continue reading The Handmade Tale
Happy May Day / Beltane everyone. I hope that the light that spring brings will warm your hearts and bones. XXX Noémie.
How do you measure a dream? In feet, grams, litres, brush strokes? Meters of films stashed somewhere? Dancing quietly upstream, With the sharp eyes of an hawk, Storm of meteor showers. How do you measure life, then? Do you count every in breath? Mile stones, friends, foes, tales or wealth? Count their blessings up to … Continue reading From the ashes you will rise