tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38009646813118880302024-02-21T07:05:54.329+00:00zeroglotteI lost my mother-tongue. Drawing has other words.
Et de plus la pagaille console. jeanne http://www.blogger.com/profile/05277732016428840583noreply@blogger.comBlogger2027125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3800964681311888030.post-53454217580255028842024-01-06T10:09:00.004+00:002024-01-06T10:09:41.596+00:00chanter la planète jaune<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXp10EHN-V4foT5-IdGBKwIt3kj9TDuiin2jqDhdOhmx86MdEWjAokZFROOvTNP-y2YowUyom6J6oeRUTRkszOisqGLUSrYmLcXsWKbPEaIZCBPJkzWG3Udmo58etfvN8iUuZd77Qi1b-BQfXc1V3v2ALPSenrFjqAVdJyN9QMlw7NKmM72v4hHBb7wwc/s4032/IMG_4448.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXp10EHN-V4foT5-IdGBKwIt3kj9TDuiin2jqDhdOhmx86MdEWjAokZFROOvTNP-y2YowUyom6J6oeRUTRkszOisqGLUSrYmLcXsWKbPEaIZCBPJkzWG3Udmo58etfvN8iUuZd77Qi1b-BQfXc1V3v2ALPSenrFjqAVdJyN9QMlw7NKmM72v4hHBb7wwc/w494-h370/IMG_4448.jpeg" width="494" /></a></div><br />pourquoi pas, mais il faut que je me remette à dessiner<br /><p></p>jeanne http://www.blogger.com/profile/05277732016428840583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3800964681311888030.post-18619493315639094562023-12-06T19:33:00.000+00:002023-12-06T19:33:43.473+00:00 no dia de ter uma passa a fazer de umbigo<p> comprei tângeras. como manda a tradição.<br /></p><p></p><p><br /><br /></p>jeanne http://www.blogger.com/profile/05277732016428840583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3800964681311888030.post-20537069979566922122023-10-03T14:47:00.005+00:002023-12-06T19:19:52.768+00:00toujours essayer<p>manger le chocolat avec des cornichons</p><p>pour retrouver la force de l'enfance </p><p>qui nage éternelle comme un chien et </p><p>chaque jour trois fois se noie </p>jeanne http://www.blogger.com/profile/05277732016428840583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3800964681311888030.post-77861326889800101032023-09-25T10:28:00.004+00:002023-09-25T11:07:54.542+00:00não é o que se esperava<p> É um larguinho em declive atrás duma igreja brutalista, onde dorme gente debaixo dos loureiros. Hoje apenas vejo um homem novo, de colete amarelo, que toma pequeno-almoço em pé, o café poisado num dos bancos. </p><p>Há pouco, instalaram lá um abrigo, más é para pombos. Tiro uma fotografia a uma espécie de nave espacial feita come fósforos queimados colocaca em cima dum caixote de lixo, encaixe perfeito, parece feita de propósito. O homem aproxima-se, pergunta : é da Câmara? Não. E você? Sim, ou não. É empregado duma das empresas que a Junta de Freguesia subcontrata para as limpezas que a Câmara já não assume. Falamos um pouco, é do Punjab, donde saiu há seis anos, estudou turismo em Singapura, trabalhou em vários paises, agora está aqui, mas não é bom. Porquê? O salário? Não, a crise da habitação e as condições de trabalho. As condições de trabalho? Sim. O emprego é limpeza da rua, e não lhe dão nem uma ferramenta. Tem de apanhar todo o lixo à mão. </p><p>Tem de apanhar o lixo à mão. <br /></p><p><br /></p>jeanne http://www.blogger.com/profile/05277732016428840583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3800964681311888030.post-46230033141531668772023-01-29T10:54:00.002+00:002023-01-29T10:54:49.508+00:00<p>ils m'effrayent, </p><p>ces coquelicots de janvier. <br /></p>jeanne http://www.blogger.com/profile/05277732016428840583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3800964681311888030.post-61377602457502427112023-01-26T17:14:00.000+00:002023-01-26T17:14:25.116+00:00<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p><p> </p><p> je suis morte cette nuit dans ton rêve</p><p>au fond d'un hangar où s'amoncellent des marchandises </p><p>volées il y a longtemps</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>jeanne http://www.blogger.com/profile/05277732016428840583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3800964681311888030.post-41400266079857013602023-01-02T11:02:00.003+00:002023-01-02T11:02:58.508+00:00home is where the trees grow<p>Volta uma pessoa dum outronde qualquer e as bolotas germinaram. Cinco carvalhos! O maior tem umas 7 folhinhas verdes e roxas, tão denticuladas que imagine que sejam azinheiras, não sobreiros. Não me lembro onde as apanhei.<br /></p>jeanne http://www.blogger.com/profile/05277732016428840583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3800964681311888030.post-64759417952339504662022-12-13T15:57:00.003+00:002022-12-13T16:14:22.576+00:00A cornaca escapou-se.<p> Chove e vai chover. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Numa esquina debaixo da chuva um amontoado de sacos de lixo esventrados, cheios das papeladas duma vida. Se não estivessem tão encharcadas, um tesouro. Assim, um breve olhar, umas poucas coisas. Pendurar já, para que as folhas não se agarrem ao secar. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOL1RHw7PutKExNydZm6tw8PdohJrYMknJxRYWg5CYTVBkvXLWcvjJZQEitiYFPABpg6wCUmjloNaX8VjZniiQZoMqNRo8pG37DMKG_JqqQm93I3asWN8yPGeEJu8agMWDIyNKV85oy23o5dH0bLE7VZeuZ-bG_YfqFsDopxpgk5EywelKs8I4ubsq/s960/IMG_1775-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOL1RHw7PutKExNydZm6tw8PdohJrYMknJxRYWg5CYTVBkvXLWcvjJZQEitiYFPABpg6wCUmjloNaX8VjZniiQZoMqNRo8pG37DMKG_JqqQm93I3asWN8yPGeEJu8agMWDIyNKV85oy23o5dH0bLE7VZeuZ-bG_YfqFsDopxpgk5EywelKs8I4ubsq/w427-h320/IMG_1775-1.jpg" width="427" /></a></div><p> Umas fotos, deixei as novas, levei as velhas. Esta: <br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiClNpST3ZVDrqk-PHIDIKx__7Ta9c4cjNAaLl05JivMEiGoLCa-PR1YcavLiGb-4TqJlQl3e53FAV6bBkaAkMnOleR1u_w2ktXWUFLtEztQcdyGu6m1tYndGpeS7bs6BwzXwy7pu3E3DKl18G8NfADsT-FVuFklwrSQzKmGG86fpSYOIqbunoY8uzZ/s4032/IMG_1777.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="381" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiClNpST3ZVDrqk-PHIDIKx__7Ta9c4cjNAaLl05JivMEiGoLCa-PR1YcavLiGb-4TqJlQl3e53FAV6bBkaAkMnOleR1u_w2ktXWUFLtEztQcdyGu6m1tYndGpeS7bs6BwzXwy7pu3E3DKl18G8NfADsT-FVuFklwrSQzKmGG86fpSYOIqbunoY8uzZ/w286-h381/IMG_1777.jpg" width="286" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"> Nas costas, um carimbo: Foto Hily, Lourenço Marques. Depois é fácil, a saudade sendo a força arquivadora que é. Escorrega-elefante da Associação dos Velhos Colonos. Se tivesse morado em Fafe, ou Almancil, por exemplo, o elefante não teria tido hipótese, esquecimento quase garantido. Este, olha, até das suas subsequentes encarnações, e dentições, a internet guarda mémoria. <br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://delagoabayworld.wordpress.com/2018/09/12/os-escorregas-do-parque-infantil-dos-velhos-colonos-em-lourenco-marques-1961/">aqui</a> <a href="https://housesofmaputo.blogspot.com/2017/02/parque-infantil-da-associacao-dos_21.html">acolá</a></p><p>A senhora, quem sabe. <br /></p>jeanne http://www.blogger.com/profile/05277732016428840583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3800964681311888030.post-80242624947193418742022-12-09T10:15:00.009+00:002022-12-09T15:36:15.550+00:00os 3 mesconteiros<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZaDf1sU4icyQblyuTobUBNf3WETwM22lz-dOCkr23jLYBtlGSoPdJjJOxXyd_PaE6EhL_w2AHUjhpCURh5ISDwYZ-IAyqCiHBDvM10PRrYWIg8LlP41Fr02fNvmrvMAXEGZNRorvDCKnziLd4dSyPfJNVd55zKfzByCyFiv3hfYwLvGFstBHq8CC2/s945/3mesconteiros.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="945" data-original-width="720" height="471" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZaDf1sU4icyQblyuTobUBNf3WETwM22lz-dOCkr23jLYBtlGSoPdJjJOxXyd_PaE6EhL_w2AHUjhpCURh5ISDwYZ-IAyqCiHBDvM10PRrYWIg8LlP41Fr02fNvmrvMAXEGZNRorvDCKnziLd4dSyPfJNVd55zKfzByCyFiv3hfYwLvGFstBHq8CC2/w359-h471/3mesconteiros.jpg" width="359" /></a></div> <p></p><p style="text-align: center;">"je fais l'amour, de tête."</p><p>Albert Camus dans une lettre à Maria Casarès, alors qu'ils travaillaient chacun à son affaire, chacun sur son continent. Années '50 peut-être, je me souviens pas. <br /></p><p><br /></p>jeanne http://www.blogger.com/profile/05277732016428840583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3800964681311888030.post-50730474240882759132022-11-28T11:54:00.002+00:002022-11-28T11:54:30.524+00:00l'opération a réussi pour le moment<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZM4GvWz-YRIKXwhE6f7qZjw4XE6GHLjP8faomf8gTKp-sb2YoPKUrvgBUf9Xk9XGVyI91sEqOGzAfqesdfEOQ4onkCQskX9BohHVjEtxSFQRzj7ob3Ms-x4dsgecezNEU5yLMxCuKVcwPVcViEgnPPAT_qMcmU-qNWbI6Ry4cjijWmGFe6UMas5r6/s2788/sainteSanglante.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2773" data-original-width="2788" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZM4GvWz-YRIKXwhE6f7qZjw4XE6GHLjP8faomf8gTKp-sb2YoPKUrvgBUf9Xk9XGVyI91sEqOGzAfqesdfEOQ4onkCQskX9BohHVjEtxSFQRzj7ob3Ms-x4dsgecezNEU5yLMxCuKVcwPVcViEgnPPAT_qMcmU-qNWbI6Ry4cjijWmGFe6UMas5r6/w400-h398/sainteSanglante.jpg" width="400" /></a></div> <p></p><p style="text-align: center;">toute une semaine sans jeu<br /></p><p> </p>jeanne http://www.blogger.com/profile/05277732016428840583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3800964681311888030.post-33462326306204544872022-11-12T10:29:00.042+00:002022-11-16T18:40:13.455+00:0011.11.22 <p> <br /></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrWgSGeUt6VEObPwUr5SRhTW7Jr9XrFiOQOECFgub2tdwuV-fvBQ2NYevOrMnJNRrrOy4ZoL7xRoBSmvaeN0hoX0qyb4auehYV_SsYCk4tnVDkG9kg44s_uT7m9wIaGgxEw7QFt71lylWmOHFikV1mLzcq3yAD8AEsKNQOGgi9bd2rSz_3LclRd2J3/s960/IMG_1642-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrWgSGeUt6VEObPwUr5SRhTW7Jr9XrFiOQOECFgub2tdwuV-fvBQ2NYevOrMnJNRrrOy4ZoL7xRoBSmvaeN0hoX0qyb4auehYV_SsYCk4tnVDkG9kg44s_uT7m9wIaGgxEw7QFt71lylWmOHFikV1mLzcq3yAD8AEsKNQOGgi9bd2rSz_3LclRd2J3/w400-h300/IMG_1642-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>hier on m'a dit que ma forêt d'encre pourra trembler de toutes ses branches fin août de l'an prochain<br />jeanne http://www.blogger.com/profile/05277732016428840583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3800964681311888030.post-84873690422641696872022-11-08T10:05:00.002+00:002022-11-10T18:28:39.553+00:00Danaé´s golden rain (or how to get pregnant anyhow)<p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihGn68mVWNltRw5ALGhYiciYOf38C8Hul_4BD0eg-1TL180XXagbiWsPD8Oc3RY-UeuL19P1qhDoco9EuqOhnf6PkQGYFtCWQsoLSTFQA3FfH3bNRhgG7rkJ_M9cULe8E2g991SGEfxN3IR6lxAvbknj7gyHO134YJVlWVcrTd-96WQlc1zQreYl9R/s574/JeanneWaltz1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="574" data-original-width="574" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihGn68mVWNltRw5ALGhYiciYOf38C8Hul_4BD0eg-1TL180XXagbiWsPD8Oc3RY-UeuL19P1qhDoco9EuqOhnf6PkQGYFtCWQsoLSTFQA3FfH3bNRhgG7rkJ_M9cULe8E2g991SGEfxN3IR6lxAvbknj7gyHO134YJVlWVcrTd-96WQlc1zQreYl9R/s320/JeanneWaltz1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw6J42ov0y9rIvQSABQQ-r7qoQVoxNkvo-Ig2DWPnpD-CQb5eOROQXsxh49ou7MT1ZRT4sbu0Xop64lPjG_3s7OIbjIZKjeHFkl_5x9OpLUME_d1iixcE0V4R-ih4RiYKZFg1WSNHXoj_g9SQqWht0NX5-z_YTXGdlZOlIoYSrDpowIX36oL2CVDaD/s574/JeanneWaltz2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="574" data-original-width="574" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw6J42ov0y9rIvQSABQQ-r7qoQVoxNkvo-Ig2DWPnpD-CQb5eOROQXsxh49ou7MT1ZRT4sbu0Xop64lPjG_3s7OIbjIZKjeHFkl_5x9OpLUME_d1iixcE0V4R-ih4RiYKZFg1WSNHXoj_g9SQqWht0NX5-z_YTXGdlZOlIoYSrDpowIX36oL2CVDaD/s320/JeanneWaltz2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMOa7SeIzljzmwg_hMFxEoe_iJj339E2zp56ZJ-8vFYtM_mw8Nn6dlHhYstvfudO7dX2ZOXUAmaStka5_twZKzCZUmoNjDMcbT_zhl7mDZye2uqbD-8dkLmfqj9RjXt_QcD98UibB81xP_Y-seo_h1jxOWEG2fEwvebcm8_u8Q276aAn0CDDaYey2b/s574/JeanneWaltz4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="574" data-original-width="574" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMOa7SeIzljzmwg_hMFxEoe_iJj339E2zp56ZJ-8vFYtM_mw8Nn6dlHhYstvfudO7dX2ZOXUAmaStka5_twZKzCZUmoNjDMcbT_zhl7mDZye2uqbD-8dkLmfqj9RjXt_QcD98UibB81xP_Y-seo_h1jxOWEG2fEwvebcm8_u8Q276aAn0CDDaYey2b/s320/JeanneWaltz4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>somebody french counted how many fictional characters live on in french brains since the onset of regular television made stories, films, series, etc : 13.000 <br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>jeanne http://www.blogger.com/profile/05277732016428840583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3800964681311888030.post-4176071043210824612022-10-11T17:10:00.001+00:002022-10-12T14:30:45.438+00:00Way too late<p>Finally: </p><p>(it's a time of re-earthing long buried things)<br />
<br />
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOcidRqB59XSYtupE2rK1QxkIWefBwNz0CgkwMeTrQIXvxY8RFQo0d_FTE0ezDAkOy4xr1UhTieXKJkbafGq_DAeBwXlI1FQ1gwZoj7yF0daa90BvIVwrsfTyvyPXhfzCSBQZ8XuJlANs/s1600/LENTOSscreenshotVeLHOamarelo.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="725" data-original-width="1285" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOcidRqB59XSYtupE2rK1QxkIWefBwNz0CgkwMeTrQIXvxY8RFQo0d_FTE0ezDAkOy4xr1UhTieXKJkbafGq_DAeBwXlI1FQ1gwZoj7yF0daa90BvIVwrsfTyvyPXhfzCSBQZ8XuJlANs/s400/LENTOSscreenshotVeLHOamarelo.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<a href="https://vimeo.com/356924375" target="_blank">NÓS, OS LENTOS </a> (WE, THE SLOW)<br />
you'll need a password. It's : <b> time </b><br />
<br />
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<br />jeanne http://www.blogger.com/profile/05277732016428840583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3800964681311888030.post-2462240211387495822022-10-11T17:09:00.001+00:002022-10-11T17:09:22.571+00:00overheared selfie<p>" est-ce que ça fait une différence si j'aime les gens parce que chacun d'eux est moi, ou au contraire parce que justement ils ne sont pas moi?"<br /></p>jeanne http://www.blogger.com/profile/05277732016428840583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3800964681311888030.post-24760675191775001702022-10-09T14:50:00.001+00:002022-10-09T14:50:13.006+00:00entre marido e mulher<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDq7BCE9zOf7CcaSpGsLdtO0BWbPCmV7oFuQ0607hLu5oyHMQdCXIX4AKHYvYMvUGFRitOgeFjKPujIpazB7LcdaZUnTNDAasD1Gd_vnU1c27KGXGe_dvsymRZYol5MKcXZOM3-WFeqNf9EIaw20oq2icin628bLpBUOGWE4KKnMgly6Di6pP8y7ZC/s3971/IMG_1274.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2549" data-original-width="3971" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDq7BCE9zOf7CcaSpGsLdtO0BWbPCmV7oFuQ0607hLu5oyHMQdCXIX4AKHYvYMvUGFRitOgeFjKPujIpazB7LcdaZUnTNDAasD1Gd_vnU1c27KGXGe_dvsymRZYol5MKcXZOM3-WFeqNf9EIaw20oq2icin628bLpBUOGWE4KKnMgly6Di6pP8y7ZC/w400-h256/IMG_1274.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<p></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Entre
nosotros no había abuso, y por tanto cuanto decíamos, cuanto
dijéramos o discutiéramos o pudiéramos reprocharnos (cuanto nos
ensombreciera), no iba a diluirse por sí solo o tras un silencio,
sino que iba a tener su peso, iba a influir en lo que siguiera, en lo
que fuera a pasarnos (y tenía que pasarnos aún medía vida unidos);
y del mismo modo que yo me había abstenido de formular cuanto estoy
formulando ahora (mis presentimientos desde la boda y más tarde),
veía que Luisa cerraba los ojos para que yo no pudiera hacerla
partícipe de mis impresiones respecto a Guillermo y Miriam y la
mujer española enferma, ni ella a mí de las suyas. No era
desconfianza ni falta de compañerismo ni ganas de ocultamiento. Era
simplemente instalarse en el convencimiento o superstición de que no
existe lo que no se dice. Y es verdad que sólo lo que no se dice ni
expresa es lo que no traducimos nunca. </span></span></span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> corazon tan blanco javier
marias</span></span></span></p>
<p><style type="text/css">P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm }</style></p>jeanne http://www.blogger.com/profile/05277732016428840583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3800964681311888030.post-21552136852843499912022-10-05T12:42:00.002+00:002022-10-05T14:44:19.050+00:00il arrive un mercredi<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggnFxStjLwE1juoMsCC8mqUamn9AZ715FYpxXtUSURvCrXNvLK4axnjGIBWhosfiI24SGjMM2DFX9L08HI-5pLv3jMLkE20pUvyJwQWCfcL5b9luf8uGZ901LNqvUPtcsyb_rjvronKi0HRRIiyk2tFMM2v4XyqlRbzrnlGJc0zFyoqroBh1qkUf7a/s4032/IMG_1262.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggnFxStjLwE1juoMsCC8mqUamn9AZ715FYpxXtUSURvCrXNvLK4axnjGIBWhosfiI24SGjMM2DFX9L08HI-5pLv3jMLkE20pUvyJwQWCfcL5b9luf8uGZ901LNqvUPtcsyb_rjvronKi0HRRIiyk2tFMM2v4XyqlRbzrnlGJc0zFyoqroBh1qkUf7a/w300-h400/IMG_1262.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtj1Y5KgyE5p8QGgRcqzV_u82Am5uw350sK-Pb9hU5B6gcxUKDUQXtRjuY52sdVlTmYGRN7JeOb0vN7-FvtAHPCl2ymP3VsgMyVPwCOPSHJB4P0-gEoVewn9Z5GYJ-zplV9zIJjyZkyXwG_zlDBMTofHbRd-Wpa2EceLfZyvYDyAQKy7mRPBX25wiH/s4032/IMG_1263.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtj1Y5KgyE5p8QGgRcqzV_u82Am5uw350sK-Pb9hU5B6gcxUKDUQXtRjuY52sdVlTmYGRN7JeOb0vN7-FvtAHPCl2ymP3VsgMyVPwCOPSHJB4P0-gEoVewn9Z5GYJ-zplV9zIJjyZkyXwG_zlDBMTofHbRd-Wpa2EceLfZyvYDyAQKy7mRPBX25wiH/w300-h400/IMG_1263.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>comme il n'y a personne d'autre, toutes deux l'aiment presque tout de suite<br /> <p></p>jeanne http://www.blogger.com/profile/05277732016428840583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3800964681311888030.post-70676794530558784392022-09-30T11:00:00.006+00:002022-10-07T10:05:57.448+00:00psaulme pâle<p>
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">s'élève un psaulme pâle </p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">mais plus un grillon plus un merle </p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">pour l'accompagner <br /></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">dans le lit vide du fleuve</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">devant l'abattoir on lave les boeufs au karcher </p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">mugissent et le générateur
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">le boucan rétrécit l'espace dehors dedans
</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">je est un intérêt du passé</p>
<p><style type="text/css">P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm }</style></p>jeanne http://www.blogger.com/profile/05277732016428840583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3800964681311888030.post-77673646964724422722022-09-13T16:51:00.004+00:002022-09-15T10:50:31.125+00:00por fim!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7n3krZ-0zg8jX-XrF6cZdxsrb1nN5f9QrDOUig4dXcLJ5w96he-NWBcWbn7986M5QEhWjuQs3y-12UgkgJLWK55pca-RnNBw8JbZv8_ggB7i6P8bf_VUdd3qQkIyyDkzwI4TcNWo_DpRE9h73VewbgDGUMSFIfpw5a5U4OTEJPUlLACcWhvXEvWdO/s4032/IMG_1197.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7n3krZ-0zg8jX-XrF6cZdxsrb1nN5f9QrDOUig4dXcLJ5w96he-NWBcWbn7986M5QEhWjuQs3y-12UgkgJLWK55pca-RnNBw8JbZv8_ggB7i6P8bf_VUdd3qQkIyyDkzwI4TcNWo_DpRE9h73VewbgDGUMSFIfpw5a5U4OTEJPUlLACcWhvXEvWdO/w400-h300/IMG_1197.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"> cheguei à casa</p><p style="text-align: center;">encharcada <br /></p>jeanne http://www.blogger.com/profile/05277732016428840583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3800964681311888030.post-2203948504122623732022-09-10T11:00:00.002+00:002022-09-10T11:46:54.728+00:00zeroglottisme ornithologique<p>Mon oncle anthropologue me demande de l'aider à organiser les textes d'une publication sur son sujet d'élection, le karau des indiens Wayana, leur mythe de "l'homme perdu" et son animal d'inspiration, l'oiseau japim, une espèce de gros merle à cul jaune qui a deux particularités: <br />
- il vit en symbiose avec des guêpes assassines (donc est courageux et malin) <br />
- il imite à merveille une quantité d'autres bestioles, non seulement des oiseaux, mais aussi tapirs, sapajous, agoutis, et jusqu'à des poissons! ( il parle donc à tout le monde, est à l'aise partout, le monde lui appartient).<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGlHN_V5MvqzpgmxlqUJuKSPoPkvOUd-qt00msb9N2LKVVA5ElXiMqurbilCIevi5KvQYAYsyBLGr8CI0wkJERjxBo5AZrjMGR54TKiTCYXsYMB5vkwKB504hqfNXYpjM6aja9IcFtFM9k/s1600/japim-x%C3%A9xeu.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492708045489946994" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGlHN_V5MvqzpgmxlqUJuKSPoPkvOUd-qt00msb9N2LKVVA5ElXiMqurbilCIevi5KvQYAYsyBLGr8CI0wkJERjxBo5AZrjMGR54TKiTCYXsYMB5vkwKB504hqfNXYpjM6aja9IcFtFM9k/s400/japim-x%C3%A9xeu.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 347px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 392px;" /></a>"Quand le grand Dieu Tupan était triste, le japi chantait pour le réjouir et Tupan, un jour, l'envoya sur terre pour qu'il console les affligés par la vertu de son chant. Alors le japi chanta et tous les oiseaux se turent pour l'écouter. Or il arriva que le japi en vint à se remplir d'orgueil et par moquerie alla jusqu'à contrefaire les autres oiseaux, en conséquence de quoi ces derniers, vexés, ne chantaient plus. Mais Tupan, qui déteste l'orgueil, châtia le japi en ne lui permettant plus de retourner au ciel et en faisant en sorte qu'il oublie les belles mélodies que lui, Tupan, lui avait enseignées. C'est pourquoi aujourd'hui, chaque fois que le japi tente de se remémorer son chant, il utilise la voix des autres oiseaux"<br />
<br />
Lorque je dis que ce japi, aussi polyglotte soit-il, a aussi perdu sa voix, la sienne propre, mon oncle me répond que ce pan d'interprétation n'a aucune pertinence. <br />
<br />
Bon. Mais me voilà forcée de me demander si la zeroglottique passion ne serait pas génétiquement transmissible.<br />
</p><p><br />
foto de o. mendes</p><p>(j'avais publié puis retiré ce post en juillet 2010. le revoilà) <br /></p>jeanne http://www.blogger.com/profile/05277732016428840583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3800964681311888030.post-65563220772371038532022-09-09T13:54:00.002+00:002022-09-09T17:53:34.710+00:00il était un petit navire, qui n'avait ja ja jamais navigué ohé, ohé<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH4H1DESBTHoCce67nmwEqY_RgwuYjSzdjs7yFTXk9q7q51ahilGdWzJBxC0PqOzUtNEiDOaaXCTv5w178R6hmGXxctv3h8mUmVP_myn60MeKCPQMtGNFMkTwH0BPTmX_wXJTTjf9SIO1lZF4n6gkAwdAufoGQ4wRi_ybdBU5AxcHwrtQulsyo7ddZ/s960/IMG_1151-1.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH4H1DESBTHoCce67nmwEqY_RgwuYjSzdjs7yFTXk9q7q51ahilGdWzJBxC0PqOzUtNEiDOaaXCTv5w178R6hmGXxctv3h8mUmVP_myn60MeKCPQMtGNFMkTwH0BPTmX_wXJTTjf9SIO1lZF4n6gkAwdAufoGQ4wRi_ybdBU5AxcHwrtQulsyo7ddZ/w400-h300/IMG_1151-1.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwX-o2sYwKnAmbPGvkvLE1h-gbZLc_onpK1sl_mo4ss0AXF7nNw5sepSmDVG7-eVKehX-0axSS0egRMQ03YnQKSySeRiDFVQRd-Cvj1PnEVM0VApDL3Yu2uuvNOqnTAiK2R6CX5FySvrrn-LWIrUHtoRMPGQwE6udPdyaPFyMlkg8PFeQVHayC_DKo/s960/IMG_1168-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwX-o2sYwKnAmbPGvkvLE1h-gbZLc_onpK1sl_mo4ss0AXF7nNw5sepSmDVG7-eVKehX-0axSS0egRMQ03YnQKSySeRiDFVQRd-Cvj1PnEVM0VApDL3Yu2uuvNOqnTAiK2R6CX5FySvrrn-LWIrUHtoRMPGQwE6udPdyaPFyMlkg8PFeQVHayC_DKo/w300-h400/IMG_1168-1.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvkBY28chX9f6jAo5NW5AvMYPR3l3FRZhuSlMNYGXAfkLQIAPQEt5vPPd6jFkqmvDzALkbSvsism4Z-XEWBqaWuIPcg6XyRwKUufdbf0jNepIy8M3r9_0EYV19bANVLgmQDlczgQeBA10mcDcCZVXG9yoruBgWlLaWUBtk9Wlpd_avLPeKbHgqfRqA/s960/IMG_4329-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvkBY28chX9f6jAo5NW5AvMYPR3l3FRZhuSlMNYGXAfkLQIAPQEt5vPPd6jFkqmvDzALkbSvsism4Z-XEWBqaWuIPcg6XyRwKUufdbf0jNepIy8M3r9_0EYV19bANVLgmQDlczgQeBA10mcDcCZVXG9yoruBgWlLaWUBtk9Wlpd_avLPeKbHgqfRqA/w300-h400/IMG_4329-1.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /> um calceteiro anónimo, Pessoa na sua biografia por Richard Zenith, uma pintora anónima<p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>jeanne http://www.blogger.com/profile/05277732016428840583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3800964681311888030.post-60377401479433936832022-09-03T07:09:00.000+00:002022-09-03T07:09:10.832+00:00renifler la lumière<p><br /></p><p>on a deux narines pour la même raison qu'on a deux yeux, placer la source dans l'espace, la stéreo de l'odorat. c'est pour ça aussi que la langue des serpents est fourchue, à chaque aller-retour ils la ramènent couverte de molécules que deux récepteurs dans leur bouche décodent. </p><p><br /></p><p>dans Immense World, le livre de Ed Yong sur la vie sensorielle des animaux<br /></p>jeanne http://www.blogger.com/profile/05277732016428840583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3800964681311888030.post-31800102343804321452022-09-02T13:14:00.001+00:002022-09-03T11:02:40.033+00:00ao ocaso<p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheBXSx6eGGrb4vHV3q0qa9dc-XaiHQBaJXHYZhLC1i60ajW1tetCuz6iaxWZHZz1GXpa6--pYgYXYRewmf7iPUHtYK_wLeqYpbf1kDU8lMOYWnqBVRj8Bgf5sjVDFKmtPAwQzy-I1O_gdmlIrWDcoWkx2R8jSqGE4TEJPEAzx7ShDO84s8SxmGOsbu/s960/IMG_1110-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheBXSx6eGGrb4vHV3q0qa9dc-XaiHQBaJXHYZhLC1i60ajW1tetCuz6iaxWZHZz1GXpa6--pYgYXYRewmf7iPUHtYK_wLeqYpbf1kDU8lMOYWnqBVRj8Bgf5sjVDFKmtPAwQzy-I1O_gdmlIrWDcoWkx2R8jSqGE4TEJPEAzx7ShDO84s8SxmGOsbu/w480-h640/IMG_1110-1.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"> angels have wings, a woman leafy greens</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">os anjos têem asas, a mulher hortaliças<br /></p>jeanne http://www.blogger.com/profile/05277732016428840583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3800964681311888030.post-50759398670381573512022-09-01T14:56:00.001+00:002022-09-01T14:56:30.579+00:00<p> hérissée de balais, un seau à chaque bras, la jeune femme bien droite sur sa trotinette négocie le carrefour sans ralentir. <br /></p>jeanne http://www.blogger.com/profile/05277732016428840583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3800964681311888030.post-91700883160873751682022-08-26T15:20:00.001+00:002022-08-26T15:20:25.984+00:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZNZ4YAomwzuK-xfeJSWgV4EgmW2CSFqLL1c36CBjvFCbUuoRtke_2WWN0nTN5dARvdjg5MYzfylrlHmNI9Na6g-WtaAvPXpeU2iWPrm1PubVQnf6M3hGFh-U4Fys3-Mf5gm_9CXIjEv83dcGxm195RN5nw306-748UxoNfJtv9ZkPSZgR1hfM1_X8/s4032/IMG_0995.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZNZ4YAomwzuK-xfeJSWgV4EgmW2CSFqLL1c36CBjvFCbUuoRtke_2WWN0nTN5dARvdjg5MYzfylrlHmNI9Na6g-WtaAvPXpeU2iWPrm1PubVQnf6M3hGFh-U4Fys3-Mf5gm_9CXIjEv83dcGxm195RN5nw306-748UxoNfJtv9ZkPSZgR1hfM1_X8/w300-h400/IMG_0995.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2CVebQxkhJpRbxXZfk0ion27mG_dxGDKXg-85yKrc4h_4XgMqZqPoPNXM2trDB4RbJG-TV7WZtNicEAZkE9GcEek_qj4A6yTsBtxbM_GB5CCT6_XBWN76p3f4eNjPu_2OeyRDxNftyytc-ZXSXYh2XPE249oVB3-lWg1RuGiQ3PVSAF4gubu-oAtB/s3829/IMG_1079.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="904" data-original-width="3829" height="76" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2CVebQxkhJpRbxXZfk0ion27mG_dxGDKXg-85yKrc4h_4XgMqZqPoPNXM2trDB4RbJG-TV7WZtNicEAZkE9GcEek_qj4A6yTsBtxbM_GB5CCT6_XBWN76p3f4eNjPu_2OeyRDxNftyytc-ZXSXYh2XPE249oVB3-lWg1RuGiQ3PVSAF4gubu-oAtB/s320/IMG_1079.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>du journal de Katherine Mansfield, traduction de Marthe Duproix. Il s'agit du 14 décembre 1920, et elle n'écrit rien de plus sur ce bébé taché, imaginaire ou non. <br /> <p></p>jeanne http://www.blogger.com/profile/05277732016428840583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3800964681311888030.post-12562379186348899312022-08-24T14:00:00.005+00:002022-08-26T15:12:55.360+00:00primeira água<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXcgawiO7OxnG83R31Y-w4Px_OygJw65zyMuKDkdy219mCTsmK9hGDD1CaZercoUjDyvT0Xbb5rfLBoMDhm3PjE12z9AuMAaeaOFeo1KH4hPLzUA7-GxHWHBoBVX2edXahxEEOU7gZNvFJjwf_26_ZA5WrTMkBGJKIk_ar-4hRfROnenZAshf_8PWC/s4032/IMG_1087.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="455" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXcgawiO7OxnG83R31Y-w4Px_OygJw65zyMuKDkdy219mCTsmK9hGDD1CaZercoUjDyvT0Xbb5rfLBoMDhm3PjE12z9AuMAaeaOFeo1KH4hPLzUA7-GxHWHBoBVX2edXahxEEOU7gZNvFJjwf_26_ZA5WrTMkBGJKIk_ar-4hRfROnenZAshf_8PWC/w343-h455/IMG_1087.jpg" width="343" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><p></p>jeanne http://www.blogger.com/profile/05277732016428840583noreply@blogger.com0