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In the fridge, from the top to the bottom
Top floor : 3 yaourt strawberry, 2 apple compote, 1 tupperware for tomorrow lunch filled with pasta carbonara
Second Floor : a brown bread unpacked, a half braid in the corner left, 115 gr. of Gruyère, one Mozzarella, 6 Babibel, a pack of Kiri out of date
Third Floor : 6 french merguez, 1 chicken for Sunday, a bunch of potatoes, 2 dehydrated carrots
Drawer : Salad, Salad, Salad
Door : 10 eggs, one bottle of white wine, one pot of green curry pasta, one slab of butter
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An orange. Round and colorful, shining like the sun. In my hand, a treasure. I bring it closer, its sweet scent, a breath of the sea. I peel it, juice flows, red with joy. A burst of laughter on my tongue, a taste of happiness. Not just a fruit, but a promise.
$$$$
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Tipasa, a moneymaker ?
Bobby, 7 years old, feeling likea big fish in a small pond, dripping in gold from his polo, the "Make America Great Again" cap perched like a crown of absurdity, stumbles upon Paul, the turtle, or perhaps just his shadow, maybe just the breeze dressed in a shell. Tipasa stretches around them, in ruins. Bobby’s mom floats further away, touches the air, tastes the dust.
Bobby: "I’ve built hotels on legos. But these ruins? They’re potential. Stack a few stones, add a pool, and boom—you’ve got an amusement park!"
Paul, the turtle: "Everything is temporary, even power."
Rand murmurs, "Feel." [1] Koolhaas resonates in the wind, "Junkspace seems like an aberration, but it’s the essence."[2]
Paul the turtle watches a lizard dart by.
Bobby: "Kindness, yeah, but what’s the profit margin? Can we bottle it? Silence is nice, but you know what’s even better? A thousand people chanting your birthday song. It feels real."
"And what they see is totally different from what the others see. " [3]
Bobby’s mom, eyebrow raised: "Your sense of humor, Peter, where’s your sense of humor?"[4]
Bobby: "Humor? I am humor. People laugh; this place laughs too."
Paul the turtle: "Humanity dresses itself in bright colors,"[5]
[1] Rand, The Fountainhead [2] Koolhaas, Junkspace with Running Room [3] Deleuze Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus [4] Rand, The Fountainhead [5] Serres, The Incandescent
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Whispers of a Quiet Life
[…] I once wanted to be a teacher, but life took a different path. “A place of seams, mixture and marriage,”[1] that's what my life has become. Yet, in the quiet moments, I catch glimpses of beauty, when “everything appeared to be coated in light, as if born for the first time.”[2] We just keep going.
[1] Serres, The Five Senses [2] Calasso, The Marriage of Cadmus and Harmony
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