Friday, June 26, 2009

Summer Holidays

Yep, it’s that time of the year again, when the tug of wanderlust is at its strongest. This year it will take us to France...

Therefore, for (at least) the next three weeks, I won’t be able to visit you but I’ll certainly think of you when I will stroll on the banks of the river Seine, loose myself in the Catacombs, or dream a dream of kings and princesses in the Loire Valley… Even at EuroDisney where we’ll take our daughters as a small redemption for the too many museums they’ll have to visit…

So, be cool, be happy, be creative (good luck to all the participants in Jason’s contest! - see my attempt below), and I’ll “see” you at the end of July.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

In Vino Veritas - outside the contest

I will be away at the time Jason will officially declare open his new contest, but his superb photograph told me a story that I couldn't resist. So here it is, my version of it...

Bellissimo,” she whispered. “How old are they?”

Constellations unravelled luxuriously under the gold of candles spread on the polychrome marble floor.

Signora, I give you the tomb of Balbillus, astrologist to the emperors Claudius, Nero and Vespasian. We are the first to see it. Tomorrow is for the world…”


“Imagine, this could be the air they breathed. A bubble of perfectly preserved time…”

A sparkling table was set in the middle of the room.

“A romantic dinner in an ancient tomb. How wicked, Dr. Beecham!”

He bowed.

“Just for you, contessina.”

He worked the seal of a dusty amphora.


“A taste of what they drank. Maybe a glimpse into… their Rome.

“How do you know it’s wine?”

“I accidentally broke one yesterday…”

He pointed at the bottle of Laffite on the table. “We have a backup in case it’s turned sour.”

He poured into the crystal glasses, a blood-red honey surprisingly translucent after 2000 years.

“To you, contessa.”

“To ancient Rome.”

They sipped. It was the strongest cognac, the sweetest.

She saw Harry fall before her world turned into a whirlwind.


Strident noises funnelling into shouts, into thundering steps. Smoke.

Harry’s voice above her, with quiet urgency. “Dearest, we must run. It’s the fire.”

At last, she understood, beyond reason.

“No, we must see if he’s… playing the fiddle.”

They stumbled, half-carrying each other, against the crowd in tunics and togas, barely shunning chariots and horses.

Before them, the Palatine loomed enormous, darkness punctuated with incandescence.

64 AD.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Times Four

I really had to “steal” this from Charles Gramlich because I liked it so much and because he doesn’t do any tagging actually… :-)

I think I needed something light to match the summery mood brought on by longer, sunnier days, and by the approaching holidays.

So, here goes… (in alphabetical order, wherever possible)

Four Movies You Can See Over and Over

The Birdcage
From Dusk Till Dawn
The Party
Pulp Fiction

Four Places You Have Lived

Montreal, Canada

(sorry, I only have two…)

Four TV Shows You Love(d) to Watch (I watch extremely little TV now – I used to be addicted to it years ago but, luckily, the arrival of my first daughter cured me of that)

The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency
Star Trek – Enterprise (the last in the series)

Four Places You Have Been on a Vacation

Prince Edward Island

Four of your favorite foods

Corn on the cob

Four Websites You Visit Daily

The Internet Movie Database
As many blogs as I can

Four Places You Would Rather Be

The seaside
At home, writing
On a sailing boat, sailing the seven seas

Four Things You Hope to Do Before You Die

Publish a story
Go to Easter Island
Visit the pyramids of Egypt
Walk in the Amazon jungle

Four Novels You Wish You Were Reading for the First Time

The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, by Mark Twain
Dracula, by Bram Stoker
Journey to the Centre of the Earth, by Jules Verne
Rendez-vous with Rama, by Arthur C. Clarke

Tag Four People You Believe Will Respond

Absolute Vanilla (& Atyllah)
K.Lawson Gilbert

Thank you for playing! :-)

Friday, June 12, 2009

Summer Reverie

Lupin Sunset by Eb Mueller

Darling, I’m the breeze tonight
In young petals, mauve and mellow,
I’m the moon reflecting, bright,
On the old pond in the meadow,

As I dare, perchance, to dream
It’s your hair my fingers part
And, for all sweet things agleam,
That the mirror is your heart.

Monday, June 08, 2009


tears of statues
stream inwardly,
rivulets of bronze
or marble,
slowly returning
to the grain
of their respective
into the very atoms
of grief,
or the tiny
electrons of
never betrayed
by their
rigid composure,
and hinted only
by empty eyes,
of which,
on occasion,
blood’s been
to flow.