#Le Soleil Noir

[already-14]

Jean-Pierre Duprey (1930 - 1959)

Derrière son double suivi de Solution H - Trois feux et une tour - Dans l'oeil du miroir - En l'air de verre passé au philtre du vide - Spectreuses

Le soleil noir, Paris 1964, 13,5x19cm, reliure de l'éditeur.

Edition originale pour Spectreuses, version intégrale pour Derrière son double, un des 333 exemplaires sur vélin bouffant.

Reliure de l'éditeur en pleine toile rouge, dos lisse, premier plat illustré d'un fer, exemplaire complet de son rhodoïd qui ne comporte pas de défaut.

Notre exemplaire, ainsi qu'il l'est stipulé à la justification du tirage, est bien complet de l'eau-forte originale de Jorge Camacho qu'il a justifiée et signée.

Ouvrage illustré d'un frontispice de Jacques Hérold et de dessins de Max Ernst.

invaluable.com

[atypeekmusic]

Cosmos 1999 - Saison 1 - Épisode 03 : Le soleil noir (1975) ☆☆☆☆☆

[atomic-chronoscaph]

A Scattering of Jades - art by Guillaume Sorel (2006)

[sovamurka]

A sentence that I cannot say among my musical circle because I'd be bullied immediately: European musicals are ten times better than Broadway ones 😔

[francoise-larouge]

L'été ©FrançoiseLarouge2023

[sunjoys]

for my birthday next year im gonna force my friends to marathon watch french musicals with me

[persolaise]

Coty Infiniment review - various perfumers; 2024

My thoughts on the new Infiniment range from Coty

— My first encounter with this much-hyped range was at a launch event in London last year. As far as these shindigs go, it was one of the less easily comprehensible. The speeches ranged from hollow to opaque. There was ‘entertainment’ in the form of perplexing dances that had been devised as interpretations of a few of the perfumes. And the only opportunity to smell the scents themselves was in…

[angelitam]

Partageons mon rendez-vous lecture #18-2023 & critiques

Voici ma critique littéraire sur Livres à profusion. Le Graal du Diable d’Eric Giacometti et Jacques Ravenne Le graal du diable de Giacometti et Ravenne – Editions JC Lattès En lecture, une Masse Critique Babelio, Objectif : Forces Spéciales de Matt Objectif : Forces spéciales Matt (II) tous les livres sur Babelio.com Présentation de l’éditeur :  Intégrer les forces spéciales, tel est…

[blackbeardsrock]

Gentleoctopus: Theatre du Chene Noir / Chant Pour le Delta, la Lune et le Soleil (1976)

[smoothoperador]

ideologically i do agree with joseph kessel AND he went hard with le chant des partisans

[chic-a-gigot]

La Mode nationale, no. 22, 5 juin 1897, Paris. No. 19. — Toilette de visite. No. 20. — Toilette de jeune femme. Bibliothèque nationale de France

No. 19. — Toilette de visite en taffetas changeant indéplissable, chemisette de tulle noir indéplissable sur laquelle est posée une draperie de taffetas plissée sur les épaules; dans le bas corselet drapé arrêté par un chou sur le côté; manches avec petit ballon double dans le haut; col rabattu sous une ruche. Jupe toute plissée soleil. Chapeau rond en paille de riz blanche, orné devant par un groupe de roses, le mêmes fleurs retombent derrière en cache-peigne. Derrière hautes coques de ruban mélangées à une aigrette.

No. 19. — Visiting ensemble in non-wrinkle changing taffeta, shirt in non-wrinkle black tulle on which is placed a drapery of pleated taffeta on the shoulders; in the draped corselet bottom stopped by a cabbage on the side; sleeves with small double balloon at the top; collar turned down under a ruffle. Fully pleated sun skirt. Round hat in white rice straw, decorated on the front with a group of roses, the same flowers fall behind as a comb cover. Behind tall ribbon shells mixed with an egret.

Métrage: 20 mètres taffetas changeant.

—

No. 20. — Toilette de jeune femme en lainage bleu pervenche. Robe princesse à ouverture invisible. Corsage très collant, recouvert par un croisement de galon en laine et d'un ruban de satin bleu saphir noué sur un côté et retombent en un long pan; manches plate en satin bleu, recouvertes du haut par un jockey ondulé semblable au corsage, ruche autour du cou; jupe princesse, faisant suite au corsage, ouverte sur le côté sur un créneau de satin bleu saphir. Petite toque faite avec un froufroutage de tulle noir, avec chou de ruban bleu sur le côté, cachant le pied de deux plumes princesse de Galles, en aigrette.

No. 20. — Young woman's ensemble in periwinkle blue wool. Princess dress with invisible opening. Very tight bodice, covered by a crossing of wool braid and a sapphire blue satin ribbon tied on one side and falling in a long section; flat sleeves in blue satin, covered at the top by a wavy jockey similar to the bodice, ruffle around the neck; princess skirt, following the bodice, open on the side on a sapphire blue satin niche. Small hat made with a frill of black tulle, with a blue ribbon on the side, hiding the base of two Princess of Wales feathers, in an egret.

Métrage: 5 mètres 50 lainage très grande largeur.

[akwolfgrl]

Day 2 seasickness

Sanji awoke to crying. He rolled over and spotted the newest and youngest member of their crew curled up into a ball. Sanji sat up from where he was sleeping on the carpet he and Zoro usually slept there. To give the younger members of the crew the hammocks. Zoro was on night watch, or the green haired swordsman would have been up already. Sanji stood up and padded softly towards their little doctor. He placed his hand atop his soft head, the pink hat laying next to him.

“Chopper, are you okay?” Sanji whispered.

“Nooo, I don't feel good, and I don't wanna throw up, I'm dizzy, and my head hurts too,” Chopper listed off his symptoms.

“Sounds like seasickness,” Sanji slid his hands under the small doctor, lifting him up into his arms, rubbing a soothing hand down his back. “Let's get you some crackers,”

“Seasickness? That wasn't in any of my books,”

“Hmm maybe it was under a different term. You can look in the morning when you feel better,” Sanji climbed the ladder from the men's bunk room and onto the deck.

The sea wasn't too bad tonight, but this must be Chopper's first night on the sea. The moon hung in the sky, a waning gibbous only half full. There was nary a cloud in the sky. The stars shone brightly, blanketing the sky in little lights. The moon and sea went hand in hand, and the moon controlled the tides.

Sanji stepped inside the galley with Chopper on his hip. The reindeers little hooves clutched his shit tightly as he buried his small face into Sanji's chest. He opened a cupboard and grabbed the carkerks he kept inside. Usopp had gotten sea sick once or twice when the waves were particularly strong. He handed one to Chopper.

“Here this should help with the nausea,” As Chopper took the carker and began to nibble on it. Sanji carried the young doctor outside and stood at the bow of their ship. He pointed up at the moon. “Watch the moon chopper, watch the horizon, it will help,”

<>

Zoro heard the door to the men's bunk room open. He glanced down, expecting to see Luffy crawl up and try to get into the kitchen for a midnight snack. Instead, he spotted a blonde head of hair, Zoro huffed and was tempted to head down and bug the annoying blond unfairly pretty cook until he saw who was in his arms. Zoro watched as they headed to the kitchen. He at least got one part, right? He turned his attention back to the horizon until he heard them leave.

“Watch the moon Chopper, watch the horizon, it will help,” Curly spoke softly in a way Zoor had never heard before. Zoro began to climb down from the corws nest just as the cook began to sing.

“Loin sous les marées roulantes

Là où les rayons du soleil ne peuvent pas aller

Branchies et écailles avec des yeux sans vue”

Zoro didn't understand a word the blond sung, but it was soft and sweet. A lullaby, Zoro could only vaguely remember his own mother singing him to sleep before she died. His chest ached at the memory of her soft hands brushing back his hair as she sang above him, her eyes warm and loving. He couldn't recall her face. He didn't even know that he had remembered that about her. He came to stand next to Sanji and Chopper.

“Monstres en bas

Tapi dans les profondeurs glacées

Où la mer est noire comme de l'encre

Les horreurs de la natation dorment”

He watched as Chopper drifted asleep, the half eaten cracker in his hoof falling to the deck. Zoro picked it up and finished it off before Sanji could. There's no sense in wasting perfectly good food.

“Seasick?” Zoro asked, keeping his voice low.

“Mmhmm,” Sanji hmm in response.

“I was his age when I left home, my first night on the boat wasn't too bad, I thought I'd be fine. That seasickness was for the weak until the water began to rock and jerk the boat about. Until I nearly drowned in a storm, I was so sick and scared I was sure that I would die and my dreams would be for not,” Zoro wasn't sure why he was talking about this but it felt right as he watched Sanji stare up at the moon.

“I was eight, I ran from where I was born. I stowed away on a cruise ship called the Orbit. They found me because I was seasick, I couldn't keep the vomiting quiet. I was so sure that they would toss me overboard and leave me to the mercy of the sea. Instead, they put me to work as a chore boy. That lasted for two years until Zeff attacked the ship. Everyone drowned in the storm save the two of us,”

They stood together watching the moon fall and the sun rise, the sunrise bathed everyone in gold. Zoro couldn't help but stare at the man standing next to him. He had never seen someone look so beautiful before.

“Here, let me take him. I'll put him back to bed, and you can start on breakfast before Luffy wakes,“ Zoro swallowed down the stirring of feelings as he held out his hands to take Chopper.

He carried the small doctor down to the boys bunk room where Luffy and Usopp snored away, Zoro gently laid the reindeer down, he had seen another side to surly cook last night and he was unsure what to do with these feelings stirring inside of him.

[spirit-of-art]

Odilon Redon, Le Soleil noir , c.1900

[aurevoirmonty]

"La quête du Savoir Primordial signifiait rien de moins qu'une course vers le Soleil Noir, afin de recevoir de lui la lumière intérieure et ainsi la grande connaissance du Livre Éternel. Le Soleil Noir, le signe du Savoir et de la Sagesse Primordiaux, se distingue du type de connaissance du Soleil Blanc et ouvre la voie vers le Divin et le Commencement de l'Ur renouvelé."

Wilhelm Landig

[francoise-larouge]

ombres estivales©FrançoiseLarouge

[sgiandubh]

Anatomy of a lie: the French connection

With a very short day in sight at the office, I exceptionally go back to the whole Rash sightings colossal bullshit, for the sake of science. By now, we know *urv denied sending the submittal to Deux Moi: something I also expected to happen, in the context of her current feud with Miss Marple (way more reasonable and probably also way better informed).

Going back on memory lane, let's remember how the Rash Innuendo started. With this, conveniently kept under covers and then brought to light when Rash's name was out on the market:

I have one very important thing to comment: no one, no woman in her right mind, no matter if she is an art gallery owner, a lawyer, a teacher, a pop star on drugs or a fashionista wannabe (like Rash) would ever wear a baseball cap inside a French restaurant that is not: a) a trucker's pit stop joint on l'Autoroute du Soleil (the Sun Highway, A6/A7, relays Paris to Marseille) or b) a Burger King franchise in Seine-Saint-Denis (the infamous Neuf-Trois, or 93, after the INSEE's topographical code number for car plates and counties: in short, Paris's metropolitan area Bronx, if you wish, where all the riots start). Especially "a bougie" one: you do not have the slightest clue about real, living and breathing bourgeois French women (madame Mère's friends and also my own uni mates), quite a different species from the Californian one. Rash is anything but bourgeois, Canadian or not (yet a Canadian who lived in Paris and as such must be familiar with that code). I am talking string of pearls and tailleur Chanel/ petite robe noire and Vuitton bag and Louboutins. On a daily basis and even on the subway. Not baseball caps and scattered shopping bags at the Hôtel Costes.

No client of that restaurant (I forgot to mention yesterday) would ever take pictures with their phones. This informed me about the fact (FACT) you have never been to France, let alone ever set foot in a French high-end joint. French people prefer living their social life outside of their homes. When invited at someone's place for dinner, you can be sure you are, by now: a) intimate; b) a very close, trusted and valued friend; c) someone to be absolutely included in their social circle, for various reasons (high level networking dinners in Paris come to mind: something I know very well). So, restaurant it is for everything like: bantering, flirting, getting to know each other, spending quality time with witty and hysterically funny people, looking for a new job, getting a new job, looking for a new investor in your projects, the possibilities are endless. That being said, conversation at that table is sacred: your full attention must be there at all times, repartee and consistency are expected. No one, literally no one will spend their time scanning the room for a B-list actor kissing a blonde trophy woman in public, nonetheless. Read my lips: not a soul - they would be all engrossed in whatever the talk is about at their table.

The game shifted to a superior gear with this French speaking Anon:

Someone saw something louche/amiss in all this and reacted:

The French is NOT 'too good'. That French is semi-vulgar and provincial, as in the crude and pauper ils étaient l'un sur l'autre (I was expecting a je te jure/ I swear to you that never came and it usually does). And what to say about elle semble beaucoup plus réelle que les autres filles? It's Google Translate all the way. A real, walking talking French person would have said something along the lines of: elle semble beaucoup plus crédible/vraisemblable que les autres filles (she looks way more credible than the other girls), simply because réel(le), in spoken and written nowadays French, always applies to concepts, never to people: un réel plaisir (very contrived), for instance. C'est quelqu'un de réel means absolutely nothing and I would laugh like a drain if I heard someone telling me something like this. Last but not least, despite insisting it was a different Anon, they all seem to use the same words: they had lots of fun/ils s'amusaient vraiment. Something you use all the time, too. Of course.

Keep your hands off France, madam. Très facile de s'y prendre les pieds dans le tapis. And for once, I am not going to translate, since you speak it so well and I am sure you got the message.

PS: The closest to a real French bourgeois woman (last pics included) is C. And FYI, that is not my style: I dress like a preppy since I was 15 and I am very happy with it.