…a sanctuary for lost words, for unusual, odd, curious, peculiar, funny, bizarre, weird, uncanny, queer, unexpected, unfamiliar, abnormal, atypical, anomalous, different, out of the ordinary, out of the way, extraordinary, remarkable, puzzling, mystifying, mysterious, perplexing, baffling, unaccountable, inexplicable, incongruous, uncommon, untypical, irregular, singular, deviant, aberrant, freakish, surreal, suspicious, dubious, questionable, eerie and unnatural words, some presented as poetry, others as prose, and quite often melded into photographs, covering such diverse and distantly related themes as Paris, archaeology, music, street art and politics along with a generous helping of perplexing perspectives. I write poetry to be read aloud. Words are only half alive on paper; they are like skeletons. Sound breathes life into them. Makes them sing. While you’re here look for things. You’ll find them… (Oh, and I neglected to mention that unless otherwise credited, all photos are my own creations)...
Digitally enhanced image created from an original photo taken in September 2019.
Leon-Paul Fargue, the “Poet of Paris”, once wrote a story of ghosts, beings from a kind of limbo, that will gather in a neighborhood, then vanish and move on to another, recognizable by certain signs, but knowing that most of the living are too unaware and oblivious or just plain indifferent to recognize them. Until one day one man does recognize them and chases them. Not able to lose the pursuer and chased to exhaustion, the beings fade, disappear, absorbed into the earth or a wall or the air. End of the ghosts. Sometimes the best way to get rid of the ghosts is to face them head-on.
Aber vielleicht lebt ja etwas von uns weiter in denen, die wir gezeugt haben, mit denen wir unser Leben geteilt haben oder in denen, die an uns geglaubt haben.
Leider wird nach der kommenden Apokalypse, wenn die Menschheit ausgestorben ist, nichts davon eine Rolle spielen…
Unfortunately, after the coming apocalypse, when humanity becomes extinct, none of this will matter…
😢 Hugs, my friend.
“We chase after ghosts and spirits and are left holding only memories and dreams. It’s not that we want what we can’t have; it’s that we’ve held all we could want and then had to watch it slip away.” ~ Charles De Lint