between-the-walls

[between-the-walls]

What happened when we all stopped 

It starts as a whisper,

A word on the air.

It can’t quite be heard,

But you know that it’s there.

As gentle as sunlight,

As tenacious as hale,

In it’s route the the heart,

It could not but prevail.

And the people looked up from their day-to-day tasks,

Their day-to-day jobs, and their day-to-day masks.

They heard or they felt where the whisper could lead 

And they looked with eyes wide at what that might mean.  

And once they could see it, they hadn’t a chance 

To resist the sweet song of the deep steel it cast. 

But the feeling it brought them at first glance was pain,

As they lifted their eyes on the land they had claimed.

Since they saw at last as if raised from a dream,

They were almost alone on the land and on the sea 

For the trees had almost gone, 

And the bees had almost gone,

And the creatures in their shells by the seas had almost gone. 

And the people felt sad as they saw their new Earth, 

But they knew this was it, 

One wild chance for rebirth. 

Breaking new ground, 

Seeds rolling down, 

Smell of the earth on your hands and on your brow.

No time to sorrow,

We’re building tomorrow. 

The sound of things growing now keeps us around.

As the wildness grows, 

And the deep wood grows, 

And the sense that the future’s come to meet you grows,

There is no chance we can rest,

We must do our best. 

This moment can lead us back home,

That’s our test.  

It starts as a whisper,

A word on the air.

It can’t quite be heard,

But you know that it’s there.

It then spoke like thunder.

Until we all moved,

And we could,

And we did,

And it’s done. 

She is renewed.

A book by Tom & Bee Rivett-Carnac about what happen next.

It starts now, today, as we are all locked away in our houses, looking out of our windows at the seasons changing. It tells the story of how, in this moment of quiet and isolation, something that we had forgotten creeps in, and we start remembering how to live on this planet.

The future is unwritten. What happen next is up to us. And this story is as likely as any other. We who are here now get to choose where we take the human story next.

Let’s choose well.

whathappenedwhenweallstopped.com

[between-the-walls]

Tonight the sun will set

Our reality is altered

Unestablished routine reconsidered

It could be frustrating

Or spiritual if I am willing

A chance to suspend

A chance to learn

A chance to slow down

A chance to tell them I love you

Uncertainty is a doubtful promise

I cling to a permanent reality

Gaze at the horizon

Tonight the sun will set

By Lucile, in Amsterdam, The Netherlands

Photos taken during the lockdown at sunset.

[between-the-walls]

Philip Glass - Knee 5

Will it get some wind for the sailboat? And it could get for it is It could get the railroad for these workers And it could be where it is It could Franky It could be Franky It could be very fresh and clean It could be a balloon Oh these are the days my friends And these are the days my friends It could get some wind for the sailboat And it could get for it is It could get the railroad for these workers And it could get for it is were It could be a balloon It could be Franky

It could be very fresh and clean All these are the days my friends And these are the days my friends It could be those ways Will it get some wind for the sailboat? And it could get for it is it It could get the railroad for these workers And it could get for it is So these are the days my friends And these are the days my friends But these days of 888 cents and 106 coins of change These are the days my friends and these are my days my friends Make a Toyota on these 

Will it get some wind for the sailboat And it could for It could be Franky it could he very fresh and clean So it could be those ones So if you cash the bank of world traveler from 10 months ago Do you remember Hans the bus driver... , Well I put The red ball, blue ball two black and white balls. And Hans pushed on his brakes and the four balls went down to that. And Hans said, "Get those four balls away from the gearshift" All these are the days my Friends and these are the days my friends It could get the railroad for these workers. It could Would will it get some wind for the sailboat. And it Could get for it is The day with its cares and perplexities is ended and the night is now upon us. The night should be a time of peace and tranquility, a time to relax and be calm. We have need of a soothing story to banish the disturbing thoughts of the day, to set at rest our troubled minds, and put at ease our ruffled spirits And what sort of story shall we hear ? Ah, it will be a familiar story, a story that is so very, very old, and yet it is so new. It is the old, old story of love Two lovers sat on a park bench with their bodies touching each other, holding hands in the moonlight There was silence between them. So profound was theire love for each other, they needed no words to express it. And so they sat in silence, on a park bench, with their bodies touching, holding hands in the moonlight Finally she spoke. "Do you love me, John ?" she asked. "You know I love you. darling," he replied. "I love you more than tongue can tell. You are the light of my life. my sun. moon and stars. You are my everything. Without you I have no reason for being." Again there was silence as the two lovers sat on a park bench, their bodies touching, holding handls in the moonlight. Once more she spoke. "How much do you love me, John ?" she asked. He answered : "How' much do I love you ? Count the stars in the sky. Measure the waters of the oceans with a teaspoon. Number the grains of sand on the sea shore. Impossible, you say. Yes and it is just as impossible for me to say how much I love you "My love for you is higher than the heavens, deeper than Hades, and broader than the earth. It has no limits, no bounds. Everything must have an ending except my love for you." There was more of silence as the two lovers sat on a park bench with their bodies touching, holding hands in the moonlight Once more her voice was heard. "Kiss me, John" she implored. And leaning over, he pressed his lips warmly to hers in fervent osculation...

[between-the-walls]

Le coeur en dehors

Tu sais Charly, il faut aimer... Il faut aimer dans la vie, beaucoup. Ne jamais avoir peur de trop aimer. C'est ça le courage... Ne sois jamais égoïste avec ton coeur. S'il est rempli d'amour alors montre-le. Sors-le de toi, et montre le au monde... Il n'y a pas assez de coeurs courageux... Il n'y a pas assez de coeur en dehors... C'est de ton bonheur dont je te parle... Pour que ta vie sois belle, aime le plus possible. Et n'aie jamais peur de souffrir. Et méprise ceux qui te mettront en garde. Ils seront moins heureux que toi. Ceux qui redoutent la souffrance ne croient pas en la vie...

You know Charly, you have to love ... You have to love in life, a lot. Never be afraid of loving too much. This is courage ... Never be selfish with your heart. If it is filled with love then show it. Take it from you, and show it to the world ... There are not enough brave hearts ... There are not enough hearts outside ... It is your happiness which I give you speak ... For your life to be beautiful, love as much as possible. And never be afraid of suffering. And despise those who will warn you. They will be less happy than you. Those who fear suffering do not believe in life ...

Le cœur en dehors, a book by Samuel Benchetrit

Book extract chosen by Estelle, in Berlin, Germany

photo credit : Estelle R. https://my-hype.tumblr.com/

[between-the-walls]

TOMMY

Par obligation sanitaire mondiale, mon quotidien mouvant presque liquide et impalpable s’est figé, comme solidifié. Ces derniers temps, je me les remémore en mode folioscopes - ces livrets que l’on feuillettent très vite du coin du pouce pour voir apparaître une image animée - des flashs de moments forts, de détails qui surgissent à ma mémoire qui sélectionne à la hâte ce qu’elle peut au fur et à mesure des épisodes pour ne pas saturer le disque. 

Aujourd’hui, je prends temps, ou j’ai le temps, de lire ce livre page à page et parfois même, de faire des pauses pour m’en faire une image plus précise, plus claire. J’ai le luxe de prendre un rayon de soleil sur le sourire, comme ça pour rien, enfin pour tout. « Tout » c’est cet extra ordinaire, là sous mes yeux que j’effleurais du doigt sans jamais le caresser, ni le prendre à pleines mains. « Tout » ce sont des habitudes qui s’installent, des rituels que je chéris, des attention que je porte, des projets enterrés qui fleurissent, des pensées qui se partagent, la déclinaison des verts qui explosent dehors, des salutations qui dépassent les clôtures. Il y en a un autre qui se joue des murets et des barrières, c’est Tommy. Chacun chez soi. Chacun sur sa parcelle ou dans son territoire de vie privée plus ou moins étalé : du studio à la maison, avec ou sans jardin, terrasse, véranda. Intérieurs et extérieurs n’auront jamais été aussi soignés qu’à la sortie du confinement. Ceux qui le peuvent sortent et s’occupent de leur lopin de terre et c’est là que Tommy entre en jeu, le compagnon des jardiniers. Tommy n’est pas farouche. Il est léger et rond. Une grande tâche vermillon lui coule sous la gorge. Il fuse de jardins en jardins. On le suit à la trace aux étonnements qui s’enchaînent de le voir si proche. Cet intrépide opportuniste s’aventure à quelques centimètres de ces jardiniers pêcheurs de vers et de larves. Il devient cet être vivant, proche, et parfois intime qui crée du lien entre ces parcelles closes. On en vient à l’attendre, à le guetter. Il a ses heures, ses perchoirs préférés, son quotidien, que ce nouvel agencement du temps me permet de partager avec lui, avec nous, avec vous. 

text and photography by Julia, in Nantes, France

[between-the-walls]

Together in the unknown

Light a candle, 

Hold it close to your skin,

Plant seeds if you can.

Everything is cancelled, 

And Ceres is closed,

Spring has adorned the hills with yellow flowers not meant for our eyes to see,

You won’t feel the same cold winter air when the red lights turn on

Because all the pretty lips are hidden 

And you aren’t allowed to feel the warmth of your friends breast.

Rest.

The streets are scarce, 

Laden with fear and anxiety,

The street lights have gained weight 

And they miss the light they shone on your cheek.

I’m scared and our society was always fickle.

Everything has slowed down,

For the first time in a long time.

Self combustion was always coming.

A world in lock down creates mirrors, 

Study your reflection.

We need to humble now and stay strong,

For each other, 

Our minds and the sweet shift in place.

My heart pulses for us all.

My kiss is on the wind

poem and photography by Billie, in Brighton, England 

[between-the-walls]

Poolside

Milly’s favourite activity is to draw the most vibrant image that pops up in her head whilst she is tasting a glass of natural wines. She started this activity at her favourite wine bar _Schuurmanoomkensgrassotti _in Amsterdam and would invite different people each time to mingle, try new natural wines and let the inspiration expressed itself with watercolours. She is now in Australia in her family house and kept the guilty not so guilty pleasure of tasting new aromas.

“Here is a little watercolour I did of one of my new favourite natural wines. The name Poolside is so perfect for it that drawing anything else seemed silly. Such a fresh, vibrant flavour with new splashes of taste in every drop! The grape is Syrah which would typically be bold and heavy but this wine was anything but that!”

by Milly, in Adelaide, Australia