#clok_moitie

Mon compagnon est mort.

On July 31, 2015, during the night, my closest friend died. 

He was a companion of life, a friend, a partner, a brother, a dad for my daughter, a colleague. Sometimes a lover, sometimes a bodyguard, sometimes a home nurse, and so many things more. 

Tormented soul, he was a painter, and a gifted journalist artistic director for a living.

I saw In Bruges, a movie with a sweet bitterness mood, in which, among others, one of the characters, furious of being there, repeats “fuckin’ Bruges!”

That gave me the idea to see “the Venezzia of the North”. Well, okay, I also wanna see the paintings of the Flemish Masters. Chiaroscuro, sweet-bitter, my idea about this city is full of contrasts and improbable unions. Weird, whether the travel guides about Bruges highly recommend it for lovers. As far as it is especially invaded by groups of old tourists. The Anglo-Saxon people feels its architecture is coming straight from a fairy tale. Really, it has its charm, yes, maybe not as the decadent magnificence of its “twin” of the South, Venezzia, but all the same, between 5 and 7am, when I shared Brugge only with few pigeons or some gulls. 

Four days in Bruges…

Thanx to Gray-Card!

Bruges, Belgium, May 1st-4th, 2014, around 5-7am.

The line.

“I’d woken up early, and I took a long time getting ready to exist.” Fernando Pessoa

Paris, musée d’Art moderne, September 2013.

“Los laberintos que crea el tiempo se desvanecen. (Sólo queda el desierto) El corazón fuente del deseo, se desvanece. (Sólo queda el desierto) La ilusión de la aurora y los besos se desvanecen. Sólo queda el desierto. Un ondulado desierto.” Federico Garcia Lorca.

“The labyrinths created by the time vanish. (Only the desert is left.) The heart, source of lust, vanishes. (Only the desert is left.) The illusion of the dawn and the kisses vanish. Only the desert is left. A wavy desert.”