Rain & alchemy. On the seventh day it rained all day. All day the water washed the collective mind we inhabit.
A chair & a mirror were assembled & the space creaked a little more open as a blind, bowl & sheet shone. Simple utilitarian items that together make living less harsh.
The day before we had traced a path to Choisy-le-Roi where hung from an enormous ivy entwined tree two aluminum sculptured pieces by Louise Bourgeois. At first they resembled beehives but on closer examination were two bodies wrapped around each other. Or were they mouths being gagged? Named "The Welcome" they identified the newly married, especially emigrants from all around the world: "... are you welcome. Or are you foreigners we want to get rid of?" The streets were relatively empty and plums fell from sidewalk trees.
In the evening a huge embrace from Robert Bresson's nephew followed by beer & cheese and talk ranging from renowned French geographer, writer and anarchist Jacques Élisée Reclus to the process experienced during work with Ludwig Flaszen when the world stops. His darting eyes and gestures of an aesthete could not deter his generous spirit. A raconteur thirsty for stories.
The day before that we stood in line at Théâtre des Bouffes du Nord to sit on pillows in the aisle of the first balcony for the comic ballet The Bourgeois Gentleman by Moliere and music by Lully. The theatre a rustic jewel reopened by Peter Brook that has only strayed slightly from its founding policies of 1974 spoke of a rich traditional culture both in decay and renewal.
Marmot asked what was missing?
I felt the incongruities between the Japanese choreography of Kaori Ito and the musical form played so eloquently by The Baroque Ensemble of Limoges created a tension if not dramatically perhaps stylistically.
Marmot dismissed the idea.
We have burrowed & meandered on the border zones where daily routine blends with the sweat & spiritual "eternal return of the eternal" dimension. The life laboratory will always find the lavatory nearby.
:: Note :: ... a week in Paris ...