tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71962275127779989132024-03-18T21:28:31.989+01:00Même si"Le dire ne console pas de ce qui reste à dire."Elisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09325650449273473086noreply@blogger.comBlogger1967125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7196227512777998913.post-32977919668917357292024-03-18T21:28:00.001+01:002024-03-18T21:28:00.249+01:00S’asseoir là (2)<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0AdeS0XsTC7FO2o1Ihe98u2PFupa6Tk5qThW8oGWXBW1dDvaL-NFUxV0zd0d-A66E-3vrHR6p5jQe3aUzVWfu1_RW6tWZWf8MGDyWJXiFSROioL7NBkAWjDGD8MR8taIjd9aaPS44jwulS2xcGQHZ_41jFy2w6sp8LiZupRvwRhyphenhyphenF7yi-pb-X9XmOq0uh/s3814/IMG_7902.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3814" data-original-width="2860" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0AdeS0XsTC7FO2o1Ihe98u2PFupa6Tk5qThW8oGWXBW1dDvaL-NFUxV0zd0d-A66E-3vrHR6p5jQe3aUzVWfu1_RW6tWZWf8MGDyWJXiFSROioL7NBkAWjDGD8MR8taIjd9aaPS44jwulS2xcGQHZ_41jFy2w6sp8LiZupRvwRhyphenhyphenF7yi-pb-X9XmOq0uh/s320/IMG_7902.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Elisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09325650449273473086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7196227512777998913.post-38294177028761394782024-03-17T21:40:00.002+01:002024-03-17T21:40:00.124+01:00Lu et vu (91)<p><b><u>Vu</u></b></p><p><i>La mère de tous les mensonges</i> de Asmae El Mounir </p>Elisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09325650449273473086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7196227512777998913.post-48029251466614331162024-03-16T10:58:00.003+01:002024-03-16T10:58:57.771+01:00Ombre et lumière (5)<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggSX7ZSEZ1Lb8b1L5PIQXokWimlIhei1759uYfAh8flmg4HEhY2gnlum10LXODcBnCEE3QOqoAjZJ1Rvgh1INqW3a9SiabWA7cTSzpMtjM_QkkmajD0oNmZWYZP59_1eswswGIpuYQ8aOUP5QR-cXNtGOYgB5D1PbIk7_2Et_Q2rgCpY2-P_owTuHYtTbZ/s4032/IMG_7903.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggSX7ZSEZ1Lb8b1L5PIQXokWimlIhei1759uYfAh8flmg4HEhY2gnlum10LXODcBnCEE3QOqoAjZJ1Rvgh1INqW3a9SiabWA7cTSzpMtjM_QkkmajD0oNmZWYZP59_1eswswGIpuYQ8aOUP5QR-cXNtGOYgB5D1PbIk7_2Et_Q2rgCpY2-P_owTuHYtTbZ/s320/IMG_7903.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Elisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09325650449273473086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7196227512777998913.post-5552078517760023642024-03-13T22:59:00.000+01:002024-03-13T22:59:03.591+01:00Textures (3)<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisv_aYNCu4C4p9de8l6kVU9LtdBNTh-0ooAlGO75XqTxu2OGoD7Q5t3KOnaA-x4Zucy-ilx09BTywHriN66A4L1RnAzrHIDCavZKJ9SCHb1cxqXA4027tqTKUExfemnpawSTCwMFJo0qF4dpEr8DlHa_3uTz6kbLLIRo1-PmVGIGUVBoTBRJaY7H2lGm9p/s4032/IMG_7655.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisv_aYNCu4C4p9de8l6kVU9LtdBNTh-0ooAlGO75XqTxu2OGoD7Q5t3KOnaA-x4Zucy-ilx09BTywHriN66A4L1RnAzrHIDCavZKJ9SCHb1cxqXA4027tqTKUExfemnpawSTCwMFJo0qF4dpEr8DlHa_3uTz6kbLLIRo1-PmVGIGUVBoTBRJaY7H2lGm9p/s320/IMG_7655.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Elisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09325650449273473086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7196227512777998913.post-62409582902518391452024-03-12T22:22:00.008+01:002024-03-16T10:57:19.600+01:00Parole de (5) chirurgien <p> Soixante-cinq ans. Il souffre mais hésite à se faire opérer de la seconde épaule. Une appréhension. Le chirurgien <i>Vous n’avez pas le choix, sinon bientôt vous ne pourrez pas pousser votre déambulateur</i>. </p>Elisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09325650449273473086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7196227512777998913.post-5706411229969063462024-03-11T13:34:00.007+01:002024-03-11T21:07:38.835+01:00Elle était quotidienne : une dernière lettre d’Henri Gougaud <p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><strong data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 1rem; text-align: center; word-spacing: 1px;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3;">Chers amis</span></strong></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(59, 63, 68); font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; text-align: center; word-spacing: 1px;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: arial;"> </span></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(59, 63, 68); font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; text-align: center; word-spacing: 1px;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: arial;"><strong data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" style="background-color: black; font-size: 1rem;">Les temps sont venus où nos routes vont se séparer, je vais désormais emprunter les chemins de l’intime au gré de l’amour de mes tout proches. Je me laisse découvrir chaque matin l’imprévisible, qu’il m’emporte encore plus loin vers le désir et la force de dire oui, de dire non, de rire au ciel, d’écouter la tendresse.</strong></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(59, 63, 68); font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; text-align: center; word-spacing: 1px;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: arial;"><strong data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" style="background-color: black; font-size: 1rem;">Si vous voulez me retrouver, feuilletez les pages des livres que j’ai écrits, fredonnez les ritournelles que j’ai chantées, j’y serai tel que vous m’avez connu.</strong></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(59, 63, 68); font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; text-align: center; word-spacing: 1px;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: arial;"><strong data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" style="background-color: black; font-size: 1rem;">Comme je ne me suis réclamé de personne, ne vous réclamez pas de moi.</strong></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(59, 63, 68); font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; text-align: center; word-spacing: 1px;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: arial;"><strong data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" style="background-color: black; font-size: 1rem;">J’ai eu pour ambition secrète que mes mots vous délestent des maîtres et chapelles qui vous empèsent les rêves</strong></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(59, 63, 68); font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; text-align: center; word-spacing: 1px;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: arial;"><strong data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" style="background-color: black; font-size: 1rem;"><br /></strong></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(59, 63, 68); font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; text-align: center; word-spacing: 1px;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: arial;"><strong data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" style="background-color: black; font-size: 1rem;">Alors quittons-nous sur une Pensée de Walt Whitman</strong></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(59, 63, 68); font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; text-align: center; word-spacing: 1px;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: arial;"> </span></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(59, 63, 68); font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; text-align: center; word-spacing: 1px;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: arial;"><span><strong data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" style="font-size: 1rem;">« Je vous adjure de laisser tout libre, comme j’ai laissé tout libre.</strong></span><br /><span><strong data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" style="font-size: 1rem;">Qui que vous soyez me tenant à présent dans la main, lâchez-moi et partez sur votre propre route.</strong></span><span><strong data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" style="font-size: 1rem;"> »</strong></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(59, 63, 68); color: #3b3f44; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; text-align: center; word-spacing: 1px;"><span style="color: #3c4858; font-family: Palatino, "Palatino Linotype", "Palatino LT STD", "Book Antiqua", Georgia, serif;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(59, 63, 68); color: #3b3f44; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; text-align: center; word-spacing: 1px;"><span style="color: #3c4858; font-family: Palatino, "Palatino Linotype", "Palatino LT STD", "Book Antiqua", Georgia, serif;"><strong data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" style="font-size: 1rem;"><a href="https://youtu.be/V-WxMy-r1lc">https://youtu.be/V-WxMy-r1lc</a></strong></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(59, 63, 68); color: #3b3f44; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; text-align: center; word-spacing: 1px;"><span style="color: #3c4858; font-family: Palatino, "Palatino Linotype", "Palatino LT STD", "Book Antiqua", Georgia, serif;"><strong data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" style="font-size: 1rem;"><br /></strong></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(59, 63, 68); color: #3b3f44; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; text-align: center; word-spacing: 1px;"><span style="color: #3c4858; font-family: Palatino, "Palatino Linotype", "Palatino LT STD", "Book Antiqua", Georgia, serif;"><strong data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" style="font-size: 1rem;"><br /></strong></span></p>Elisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09325650449273473086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7196227512777998913.post-86030405504667718512024-03-10T21:39:00.040+01:002024-03-10T21:39:00.130+01:00Lu et vu (90)<p> <b><u>Lu</u></b></p><p><i>Les pays</i> de Marie-Hélène Lafon</p><p>P<i>uissions-nous vivre longtemps</i> de Imbolo Mbue</p><p><i>Entre-temps, donne-moi la main</i> de Kirmen Uribe</p><p><b><u>Vu</u></b></p><p><u>Cinéma</u></p><p><i>Mulhollandrive</i> de David Lynch</p><p><i>À l’est d’Eden</i> d’Elia Kazan</p><p><u>Spectacle</u> </p><p><i>Oncle Vania</i> mis en scène par Galin Stoev</p><p><i>Gardiennes</i> texte et mise en scène de Fany Cabon</p><p><br /></p>Elisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09325650449273473086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7196227512777998913.post-50099808537404546512024-03-09T19:20:00.003+01:002024-03-09T19:20:17.025+01:00par les sous-bois (7) un loup ?<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6DKY2ZRwUWkXJPZO1aalsIwMbDJL3Uzapsfdn0F9v3UvS4cEUEzCj7h4RfjRSduAAr3b6uteNscgfk09KdMHbTKDBwA-tM3m72iotBKkXaybi1WPuh9MpNkuCP0W7_jamFZn4AWwHeSuCT16bGwntOT-GI81jiVig1VlN5EXWV2zZFUDpizPvGdcrATvg/s4032/IMG_7757.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6DKY2ZRwUWkXJPZO1aalsIwMbDJL3Uzapsfdn0F9v3UvS4cEUEzCj7h4RfjRSduAAr3b6uteNscgfk09KdMHbTKDBwA-tM3m72iotBKkXaybi1WPuh9MpNkuCP0W7_jamFZn4AWwHeSuCT16bGwntOT-GI81jiVig1VlN5EXWV2zZFUDpizPvGdcrATvg/s320/IMG_7757.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: center;">pour mieux se cacher </div><p></p>Elisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09325650449273473086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7196227512777998913.post-60804519056620535912024-03-07T22:44:00.007+01:002024-03-09T13:11:11.423+01:00Vieillir (59)<p>Pour une fois pressée. Sentiment de marcher comme une furie. Nonchalante, l’air de se traîner, elle vous passe. Des jambes interminables. Quelques secondes et trente mètres dans la vue. Elle tourne à droite, ne plus la voir, traverser. </p>Elisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09325650449273473086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7196227512777998913.post-11826993995587661472024-03-06T20:55:00.002+01:002024-03-07T14:08:26.868+01:00Petites choses qui (67) attirent <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii55H9hGEIdiQ0FYAUzFof2ZbCY84kL0src8fL6MIhedgcNu99FELlETYs2CNn4XqdBQqoaDLrNWJWZsjc0xDEPiRTOtInO6AwRGVBoCYc0KmEIYb0q3FlpW2WiKizasdVXCZnlCpD9hpwA01oE06dj5USqxGXCGkm2KiaRkTqS30EZmNt78jUtux7zG7V/s4032/IMG_7776.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii55H9hGEIdiQ0FYAUzFof2ZbCY84kL0src8fL6MIhedgcNu99FELlETYs2CNn4XqdBQqoaDLrNWJWZsjc0xDEPiRTOtInO6AwRGVBoCYc0KmEIYb0q3FlpW2WiKizasdVXCZnlCpD9hpwA01oE06dj5USqxGXCGkm2KiaRkTqS30EZmNt78jUtux7zG7V/s320/IMG_7776.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div> Toute tassée sur un petit tabouret. La fraîcheur du matin sans doute. Son regard embrasse le paysage, magnolia en fleur, Basse-Plante et château sur sa motte. Indifférente aux passants, imperturbable, elle dessine. <p></p>Elisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09325650449273473086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7196227512777998913.post-16325020063454461452024-03-05T18:38:00.005+01:002024-03-05T18:38:32.567+01:00Par les sous-bois (6) : bouquet <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZe2ngL8W8QKB3kHFvdPgphoaCeG-yP6th32LENT-Wlf40dlmJA9jv4kNNrUzH3n1uNZcIEcUVuUMkY_lX5CqcP0n9oQYELNf0dIk9PGkrOr6Px5674QwQRmfFzqaloBDx-812_C_0xIfVRHIJVe8nVhqb6SyHuPWITwW7uUmJaV7Npqym401FVCZbl3OO/s4032/IMG_7753.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZe2ngL8W8QKB3kHFvdPgphoaCeG-yP6th32LENT-Wlf40dlmJA9jv4kNNrUzH3n1uNZcIEcUVuUMkY_lX5CqcP0n9oQYELNf0dIk9PGkrOr6Px5674QwQRmfFzqaloBDx-812_C_0xIfVRHIJVe8nVhqb6SyHuPWITwW7uUmJaV7Npqym401FVCZbl3OO/s320/IMG_7753.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Elisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09325650449273473086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7196227512777998913.post-4773222746268300592024-03-04T22:05:00.007+01:002024-03-08T08:22:54.092+01:00Par les sous-bois (5) déchiffrer<p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigBddxjd2PNiDgYR9P_3dAd482V8C3o2l3YhmtFQeN3n_gzhzEQK4r-59feO8xv4h5553fSpFNyFAzkjA_eIWO9-tzjgEaXCeAj7wOt7o2jQV3uyJx9C0-LtSEBUccMrpv92wniB8-YGj1VMro9S3kH1m8x0c4Y7L3OaRR1BsFPf3c3KiIHEQrZ1QlTMeg/s3476/IMG_7751.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2606" data-original-width="3476" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigBddxjd2PNiDgYR9P_3dAd482V8C3o2l3YhmtFQeN3n_gzhzEQK4r-59feO8xv4h5553fSpFNyFAzkjA_eIWO9-tzjgEaXCeAj7wOt7o2jQV3uyJx9C0-LtSEBUccMrpv92wniB8-YGj1VMro9S3kH1m8x0c4Y7L3OaRR1BsFPf3c3KiIHEQrZ1QlTMeg/s320/IMG_7751.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>Elisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09325650449273473086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7196227512777998913.post-33829181205569359772024-03-03T21:59:00.042+01:002024-03-03T21:59:00.157+01:00Lu et vu (89)<p> <b><u>Lu</u></b></p><p><i>Le Moulin sur la Floss</i> de George Eliot</p><p><i>La douleur fait naître l’hiver</i> de Matteo Porru</p><p><i>end zone</i> de Don DeLillo</p><p><i>De purs hommes</i> de Mohamed Mbougar Sarr</p><p><i>Des mots jamais dits </i>de Violaine Bérot</p><p><i>chien sauvage</i> de Pekka Juntti</p>Elisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09325650449273473086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7196227512777998913.post-90879884974840085852024-03-02T22:19:00.004+01:002024-03-02T22:19:54.590+01:00faire ses courses <p> oui, je sais on a beau être des producteurs, on a pas toujours du surplus des veaux, si j’ai besoin de lait, je vais au moins cher, chez Aldi, qu’est-ce que tu veux, c’est le porte-monnaie qui commande</p>Elisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09325650449273473086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7196227512777998913.post-12879518028301274282024-03-01T22:05:00.006+01:002024-03-03T10:01:39.165+01:00magnolias palois<p> ils commencent déjà à faner</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieYRqj-Gkz1SbxsU3gJOhrNJc9ftV2u9nov_cwvrLZbZQc-AGBpn759glV69oPYOWkjkIesVVFJO96vs8yasX9U4gVlbXs8aEVZINm9yXOeYUBYZ0TWKuTKp55dcCuc-8vvZdwxW3SU7-2TRH4hUIaNeILL972s_O2He_fi1q_i77ILP5ECwKAW7nGBTLR/s3634/IMG_7722.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3634" data-original-width="2724" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieYRqj-Gkz1SbxsU3gJOhrNJc9ftV2u9nov_cwvrLZbZQc-AGBpn759glV69oPYOWkjkIesVVFJO96vs8yasX9U4gVlbXs8aEVZINm9yXOeYUBYZ0TWKuTKp55dcCuc-8vvZdwxW3SU7-2TRH4hUIaNeILL972s_O2He_fi1q_i77ILP5ECwKAW7nGBTLR/s320/IMG_7722.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">comme ici à Franqueville, </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv8mbQ5fj8jtKXY_ly2xE-tTHQkmuyF60HrOD9CEwLWthAT5H38iydzJJzri52MhSYnkcZyds-XZawNXE2mE4N1P9v_2MhSlcpM17FqK6xPX8-LtYHeaefID9j2JfxmDCkdVfiuNvJ21Ncc9JKg0us0qHHhZcf18EjZNgiGglmJchIJPlj2E_mhP0Vqf4l/s4032/IMG_7736.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv8mbQ5fj8jtKXY_ly2xE-tTHQkmuyF60HrOD9CEwLWthAT5H38iydzJJzri52MhSYnkcZyds-XZawNXE2mE4N1P9v_2MhSlcpM17FqK6xPX8-LtYHeaefID9j2JfxmDCkdVfiuNvJ21Ncc9JKg0us0qHHhZcf18EjZNgiGglmJchIJPlj2E_mhP0Vqf4l/s320/IMG_7736.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>ou à deux pas de la Médiathèque, </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSVm7HVFU_Sv-jna1cFXgpI9fR1QGN6qHqXog_Pg4rV3H32PTiaD3IDuDy_-8ap9Dam0TGxXr0aECjSTGLD4agCygx7vrdzNKO-VDSNCG2cSUUqUMGz4p6hT8F54Bm5jICA-jGa70VfOUKb0KM6KyS6RkryJSMpxkFVCmwGligJ1guq_4yzmcFEH8_pl9q/s3454/IMG_7719.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2590" data-original-width="3454" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSVm7HVFU_Sv-jna1cFXgpI9fR1QGN6qHqXog_Pg4rV3H32PTiaD3IDuDy_-8ap9Dam0TGxXr0aECjSTGLD4agCygx7vrdzNKO-VDSNCG2cSUUqUMGz4p6hT8F54Bm5jICA-jGa70VfOUKb0KM6KyS6RkryJSMpxkFVCmwGligJ1guq_4yzmcFEH8_pl9q/s320/IMG_7719.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p>ou bien encore au parc Beaumont, </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Q25XU6M2Mct3HO82-nI-4zy4_PmdZjTpYGjJfO5lr7-pf0N3XkVoesNCa3nLUR74l6LhE1praE8tIfLoG90RXjGYmMwEzjtjlSia8DMw_BHimSLdDE7RefBtqzl1oKaAI0HKRdB_r0J8QlL4Doumsjd92RmW7eTNWisqPqm1RNOTcc66nfFIAsbiw7kS/s4032/IMG_7717.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Q25XU6M2Mct3HO82-nI-4zy4_PmdZjTpYGjJfO5lr7-pf0N3XkVoesNCa3nLUR74l6LhE1praE8tIfLoG90RXjGYmMwEzjtjlSia8DMw_BHimSLdDE7RefBtqzl1oKaAI0HKRdB_r0J8QlL4Doumsjd92RmW7eTNWisqPqm1RNOTcc66nfFIAsbiw7kS/s320/IMG_7717.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p>mais que fait celui à l’entrée du Parc du Château ? Il tarde et déplie à peine ses premiers pétales.</p>Elisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09325650449273473086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7196227512777998913.post-21371369846024218722024-02-29T18:09:00.006+01:002024-02-29T18:41:06.635+01:00par les sous-bois (4)<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge5KUJEu1E2kGmzW5ErV8fUpDkfxKUgTHMEN7dkHSHV3EH3q5zOaC2nJWxtOTz37Skkgu3jM8d3vo5WpoUIWf2AS0ZwgzRrhED40kWUfu0q940M9WJlieQMMd3yJZ2oaqk5PGPGdteU-EGbEC4XOyavrVMoFav9F8M7wlIs3AsqSbgXMwfIlB775Sc7egN/s4032/IMG_7711.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge5KUJEu1E2kGmzW5ErV8fUpDkfxKUgTHMEN7dkHSHV3EH3q5zOaC2nJWxtOTz37Skkgu3jM8d3vo5WpoUIWf2AS0ZwgzRrhED40kWUfu0q940M9WJlieQMMd3yJZ2oaqk5PGPGdteU-EGbEC4XOyavrVMoFav9F8M7wlIs3AsqSbgXMwfIlB775Sc7egN/s320/IMG_7711.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><p>convictions attachements </p><p>s’accrocher</p><p>tâcher de tenir </p><p>faillir </p><p>envier au lierre son obstination tranquille </p><p>un fidèle</p><p><br /></p>Elisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09325650449273473086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7196227512777998913.post-60917737933882437462024-02-28T18:15:00.010+01:002024-03-05T19:17:13.624+01:00l’exclusivité sinon rien<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiK7byhhgfKzGfpFJgRygKZFaDKVvA-lzk8y2WtYWfe5NQP44uJiQEIn7_C5pIPvk5cT0nxaZdHYn3oTS7774RvDg11drSTIdKkTXR6HKIAF_w8y1zbP112r5o5ZaUWwJxrrAIedP1yvO443scdrKS7l4VX7ckO1InyvIMu9r21WqotqD5K8T4L_28X91T/s4032/IMG_7552.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiK7byhhgfKzGfpFJgRygKZFaDKVvA-lzk8y2WtYWfe5NQP44uJiQEIn7_C5pIPvk5cT0nxaZdHYn3oTS7774RvDg11drSTIdKkTXR6HKIAF_w8y1zbP112r5o5ZaUWwJxrrAIedP1yvO443scdrKS7l4VX7ckO1InyvIMu9r21WqotqD5K8T4L_28X91T/s320/IMG_7552.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />« <i>Oh ! elle, elle aime tout le monde, celle que j’aimais, c’est Uda, elle n’aimait que moi, elle </i>». Une tique et la mort, euthanasiée dans ses bras.<p></p>Elisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09325650449273473086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7196227512777998913.post-38969715300453750902024-02-27T11:03:00.005+01:002024-02-27T11:03:59.219+01:00Textures (2)<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQmLlIO5ht3ni1dIlrMmeg_teYulCj32HHBSYXOV8hdzfhohyJOdSfCrGaJoTimMhXxeqq5ZR-LSCR4Pfbc3r5uHaufNk6zTiHP4pNrqdShKZ1jzhUzba2aTqRTazN-qIIAnnN4C4pqc0XuX1abRY0D14UtbvrAg2LGvmXhdKukYUJ3bgkweVfbggqa7cR/s4032/IMG_7658.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQmLlIO5ht3ni1dIlrMmeg_teYulCj32HHBSYXOV8hdzfhohyJOdSfCrGaJoTimMhXxeqq5ZR-LSCR4Pfbc3r5uHaufNk6zTiHP4pNrqdShKZ1jzhUzba2aTqRTazN-qIIAnnN4C4pqc0XuX1abRY0D14UtbvrAg2LGvmXhdKukYUJ3bgkweVfbggqa7cR/s320/IMG_7658.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p>Elisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09325650449273473086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7196227512777998913.post-70459494670533957812024-02-26T11:01:00.000+01:002024-02-26T11:01:02.054+01:00Ombre et lumière (4)<p><br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz03TNFTtT-NNP3C1GlcNYNZ6QQ0izm6MFPmdPIWXCxr8GnAu-yyzcUdq-CnRIL39T7nYbnDMlhkZx-4gW8dlaUJvCajGgxmQC-VRNwXs2A9bGquMh5uyPGif1aRMkdh93R8lY708n3bnsLTY1uPUP6RihvZEXNWcnOIJ_XV3VZjyzzFaJe1io-NPtFok-/s4032/IMG_7651.jpeg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz03TNFTtT-NNP3C1GlcNYNZ6QQ0izm6MFPmdPIWXCxr8GnAu-yyzcUdq-CnRIL39T7nYbnDMlhkZx-4gW8dlaUJvCajGgxmQC-VRNwXs2A9bGquMh5uyPGif1aRMkdh93R8lY708n3bnsLTY1uPUP6RihvZEXNWcnOIJ_XV3VZjyzzFaJe1io-NPtFok-/s320/IMG_7651.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div> Pau. quartier du HédasElisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09325650449273473086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7196227512777998913.post-72959363981770654032024-02-25T21:43:00.076+01:002024-02-25T21:43:00.128+01:00Lu et vu (88)<p><b><u>Lu</u></b> </p><p><i>Plan américain</i> de Seth Greenland</p><p><i>Cent millions d’années et un jour</i> de Jean-Baptiste Andréa</p><p><i>Un heureux événement</i> de Flannery O’Connor</p><p><i>n’être personne</i> de Gaëlle Obiegly</p><p><b><u>Vu</u></b></p><p><u>Film</u></p><p><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-family: Raleway; font-size: 16px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-style: italic;">En attendant Bojangles</span><b style="font-style: italic;"> </b>de Régis Roinsard</span></span></p><p><u>Spectacle</u> </p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i>Rideau de Frères</i> (KHAWA KHAWA) de Bouziane Bouteldja et Cie DANS6T</p>Elisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09325650449273473086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7196227512777998913.post-75861098406221390032024-02-24T14:14:00.007+01:002024-02-29T17:54:04.681+01:00Petites choses qui (66) émeuvent <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">au marché, Patrick, des montagnes de fripe, quelques livres, de rares objets et ce jour-là des cartes postales, adopter celle-ci, traces de colle, peut-être affichée en son temps à côté du calendrier des Postes, près de la fenêtre ou de la porte de la cuisine, là où on se tenait</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGAcnDJPYnM5FqsO-spdpDX2wYRyhhLo79CGglb5cDRZ-m-WAzIgoUIFvmHyMBqh1VP7F1aBmjd5ER8d3rvBtfN8jWJKpj0D4cULUImFtKykm9pfT1kmDHTQxiF_LXDBrjtO3e1hFWu5WWHx1Y0M10UKT29EZDsyPxxCwO-z1jlwkSe_smJ8SBq0t-kSRa/s4032/IMG_7681.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGAcnDJPYnM5FqsO-spdpDX2wYRyhhLo79CGglb5cDRZ-m-WAzIgoUIFvmHyMBqh1VP7F1aBmjd5ER8d3rvBtfN8jWJKpj0D4cULUImFtKykm9pfT1kmDHTQxiF_LXDBrjtO3e1hFWu5WWHx1Y0M10UKT29EZDsyPxxCwO-z1jlwkSe_smJ8SBq0t-kSRa/s320/IMG_7681.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEDEmMBgGtvq349yLsIeNHmSowA7r-eCHhtEuWQ-8vznELD7TnaoSg-qFCzncmJ3MPfpELpkHSWb2yu6nNvJ3_Fdmu7-TPHiFfeqprq1Q6hrOcm6CyjObmDMF388Zw4bLSFLDbryZLzYtUCvS8mHO8RgxA0AVve0qGDK-vF86TPhqUnS1NF7lKCEd9r7EK/s4032/IMG_7682.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEDEmMBgGtvq349yLsIeNHmSowA7r-eCHhtEuWQ-8vznELD7TnaoSg-qFCzncmJ3MPfpELpkHSWb2yu6nNvJ3_Fdmu7-TPHiFfeqprq1Q6hrOcm6CyjObmDMF388Zw4bLSFLDbryZLzYtUCvS8mHO8RgxA0AVve0qGDK-vF86TPhqUnS1NF7lKCEd9r7EK/s320/IMG_7682.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><i><div><i><br /></i></div>Chère Mayie, </i><div><i><br /></i><div><i>Voici un petit aperçu de Paris qui est à la fois beau et bruyant. Je pense bien m’y plaire pour le moment tout marche très bien. Tu donneras bien le bonjour à toute la famille de ma part. Je regrette bien de ne pas t’avoir vue avant mon départ. Je pense que tu m’écriras avec les nouvelles d’Hélette, tu me raconteras également les nouvelles de la refête et qui c’est qui a gagné la partie. Je t’embrasse bien fort une amie qui ne t’oublie pas.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i> Françoise</i></div><div><br /></div><div>n’en être plus, sûr quand on vient de <a href="https://fr.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/H%C3%A9lette">Hélette</a>, débarquer à Paris, le bruit ça frappe, « tout marche très bien », tout, quoi au juste, factrice, aux impôts, bonne à tout faire, débouchés d’alors pour les filles, se faire une dot, Purgatoire d’avant mariage, et cette refête, mot presque oublié, la fête donnée après les fêtes patronales, sa partie de pelote, on est du Pays Basque, à laquelle on pense peut-être en ce dimanche après-midi, stylo à la main, là-haut, « l’amie qui ne t’oublie pas » a besoin de toi Mayie.</div></div>Elisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09325650449273473086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7196227512777998913.post-85438489259729208032024-02-22T20:24:00.001+01:002024-02-22T20:24:48.960+01:00par les sous-bois (3)<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0slp67Ph1IwwXFKDHfmv5JZCAMeezEszILKx2lMTmo0fWtN0_kFveM_GDJ-6-39Wqcl4qiHnQzPcW0ydo-AlwOn58fD2UMNBXUHOE7A76kv5LuIf6VSLHy81_Io_GvG9-na9-wvUwDx8Ik2AKkBNZeAgvmSjssWMir1Ih3AXMUK_eLG-IcZ2kFlNv0wJe/s4032/IMG_7617.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0slp67Ph1IwwXFKDHfmv5JZCAMeezEszILKx2lMTmo0fWtN0_kFveM_GDJ-6-39Wqcl4qiHnQzPcW0ydo-AlwOn58fD2UMNBXUHOE7A76kv5LuIf6VSLHy81_Io_GvG9-na9-wvUwDx8Ik2AKkBNZeAgvmSjssWMir1Ih3AXMUK_eLG-IcZ2kFlNv0wJe/s320/IMG_7617.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYw8LzuWKEKlphcB6Sa5_lpr6SYPq2BzPyP_F7VMsgGMMoOJTZYfTkIoswOBh-V3O2nRPOxeICupkMAEH0kapgXXTH1YSb7Z4q9OBEdQ911JE7dmGyDPbuf1oqOxj1Qfams32oXYsFpeK7QZNUj5Ck4560oTNsD_x7xCdR7ej6uEiyjABYjsYlbMQv46oD/s4032/IMG_7615.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYw8LzuWKEKlphcB6Sa5_lpr6SYPq2BzPyP_F7VMsgGMMoOJTZYfTkIoswOBh-V3O2nRPOxeICupkMAEH0kapgXXTH1YSb7Z4q9OBEdQ911JE7dmGyDPbuf1oqOxj1Qfams32oXYsFpeK7QZNUj5Ck4560oTNsD_x7xCdR7ej6uEiyjABYjsYlbMQv46oD/s320/IMG_7615.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br />Elisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09325650449273473086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7196227512777998913.post-30684348252819564052024-02-21T21:06:00.004+01:002024-02-22T14:02:03.447+01:00signes des temps<p>son portable sous le nez. selfie, leur front marqué d’une lourde traînée grise, il rit <i>Avec Louis, mercredi, on a fait un saut aux enchères à Toulouse, puis filé à la cathédrale, archi pleine la cathédrale, c’était les Cendres, </i>il reprend son portable. Content de son effet.</p>Elisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09325650449273473086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7196227512777998913.post-79464351788406362822024-02-19T18:32:00.003+01:002024-02-21T20:51:49.706+01:00par les sous-bois (2)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCyFbUfNhFNqEY7_cNXBBnGlAlA7ZzWKTcVR3rab0LVFnzIz-xqUvcUXLxWxsOdJR2QgYq4MbvfbyN7J-bwSPQuXVf5Qzj7JltAZ5CDpCWEBc_VaVtL8Wji-80H_NIqlpnetFznBcV_O4YGhwfssOhMb8nzztK69TISNYrcP2uLYLdcThsun2lXQEca1Ux/s4032/IMG_7500.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCyFbUfNhFNqEY7_cNXBBnGlAlA7ZzWKTcVR3rab0LVFnzIz-xqUvcUXLxWxsOdJR2QgYq4MbvfbyN7J-bwSPQuXVf5Qzj7JltAZ5CDpCWEBc_VaVtL8Wji-80H_NIqlpnetFznBcV_O4YGhwfssOhMb8nzztK69TISNYrcP2uLYLdcThsun2lXQEca1Ux/s320/IMG_7500.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><p>la lumière est belle en ce dimanche matin, </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4krBS9ba5DIfL_K5OynxejQRBlv95-evEyRWB1B_uittNhQIsvii9QF08rTVtQz9JplVsUkT3KK5ZrgS5bsGfDZhJEqchXun8d0DJjzpPecbdTyUbPDisEADLfWRcPvSPJUkFfDC_kGdphZsHr99fhuXNmWt0uvB2d_3AgJCm9olHo4-RtREPjBHnfQ4k/s2100/IMG_7499.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2100" data-original-width="1576" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4krBS9ba5DIfL_K5OynxejQRBlv95-evEyRWB1B_uittNhQIsvii9QF08rTVtQz9JplVsUkT3KK5ZrgS5bsGfDZhJEqchXun8d0DJjzpPecbdTyUbPDisEADLfWRcPvSPJUkFfDC_kGdphZsHr99fhuXNmWt0uvB2d_3AgJCm9olHo4-RtREPjBHnfQ4k/s320/IMG_7499.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p>une vieille souche sur le talus, tourner autour et… il a plu ces derniers jours, un tapis de feuilles mortes, la lourdeur du sol, </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/vsp17ef07JQ" width="320" youtube-src-id="vsp17ef07JQ"></iframe></div><br /><p>glisser de tout son poids, se retrouver sur les fesses, se relever le téléphone bien en main, boueuse, endolori, tout ça pour une photo de plus, ridicule, en rire</p>Elisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09325650449273473086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7196227512777998913.post-76742742919329799932024-02-18T21:16:00.023+01:002024-02-18T21:16:00.133+01:00Lu et vu (87)<p> <b><u>Lu</u></b></p><p><i>Les Terres animales</i> de Laurent Petitmangin</p><p><i>Tout homme est une nuit</i> de Lydie Salvayre</p><p><i>Les femmes n’ont pas d’histoire</i> d’Amy Jo Burns</p><p><b><u>Vu</u></b></p><p><u>Cinéma</u></p><p><i>La zone d’intérêt</i> de Jonathan Glazer</p><p><i>Mambar Pierrette</i> de Rosine Mfetgo Mbakam </p><p><i>L’étoile filante</i> de Dominique Abel et Fiona Gordon</p><p><u>Spectacle</u> </p><p><i>Les règles du savoir-vivre</i> dans la société moderne de J-Luc Lagarce, mis en scène par Marcial di Fonzo Bo</p>Elisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09325650449273473086noreply@blogger.com0