sleeping in the stuffy upstairs rooms of shakespeare & co. in paris (lovely place in a great location, but by no means a great bookshop, this should be said).
annegareunarosa
filastrocche come vengono
weeks run towards their end
like they knew where they’re going
(i’m stuck with socks to mend.)
folastrocche, filastracche
the heat is not an option
i can’t let it prevail
i’m melting on the pavement
my hair a burning veil
who sets my thoughts on fire
confuses what i know
until my mind gets cleared
by dreams of silent snow.
friday cat blogging,
or the perfect excuse for blogging about cats.
i discovered it here, but its origins seem to lay here.
so what is this?

it’s a length of shoestring recently torn from my trainers by my cat. isn’t chewing an understated weapon of distruction?
there is no limit to what felines can achieve by chewing, given enough time.
a found sketchbook
found among the things of someone who can’t tell me about it.
i guess she must have found it in turn; i don’t know when – no later than 2001, not sooner than 1997, i think – and i don’t know where: in england or wales, probably in london, but… forgotten on a bus? thrown away? among books in a charity shop?
i’m so curious because, in fact, i know whose this is. it’s a book of sketches and notes for the stage design of a theatre production, and inside the cover the designer wrote her address and the theatre’s.
maybe the luzern stadttheater production of the elixir of love is long gone – I couldn’t find it listed on the internet – maybe ms jacqueline gunn (hers are the lovely pictures below) doesn’t care anymore about having her sketchbook back.
but, i wonder: should the finder have sent it to the cover address? should i do so now? do i have the right to be here posting this?
(oh, if the author could read this and tell me! or maybe she could tell me: take it off your site, immediately, and burn it…)



paris, les halles
after reading about le ventre de paris yesterday at chocolate&zucchini, and talking about film images of paris in a post of mine the day before, i thought i’d share a few 1960’s images of les halles.


left, a frame (or set picture?) from one of my favourite paris-american comedies, irma la douce, fictionalising the area, next to a real street scene from the neighbourhood (that’s from maurice rué, paris des poètes, hachette 1965). there’s an online exhibit about the film’s set designer, alexandre trauner, here (i didn’t know he made subway too). below, pictures scanned from qui parigi, touring club italiano, 1968 (sky views by alain perceval, photographs by giancarlo botti and monique valentin).



only at the end of 2003, the last time i’ve been to paris (where i’ve bought the gorgeous dress i’m wearing now, but i won’t digress), did i vist the interior of saint-eustache. i had been reading john berger’s the shape of a pocket (sacche di resistenza, giano editore, varese 2003), and wanted to see raymond mason’s sculpture: fruit and vegetables leaving paris, february 28, 1969. you can see it below, on a postcard bought on site and in a detail distorted by my partner’s eye.


of course i wanted to end on a catastrophic note showing something from ferreri’s movie non toccare la donna bianca, shot in the canyon-like excavations made after the demolition of the old pavilions, but i couldn’t find pictures online – i will have to search the books. update, 14.06.04: tournage di ferreri e altre immagini cinematografiche delle halles sul sito dedicato ai progetti di riqualificazione (finalmente) dell’area. update, 3.06.04: aggiungo qualche immagine dal dvd della mgm di irma la dolce.






filastrocche come vengono
your pointy pink-black fingers
in search of snagging threads
will cause no hurtful blisters
they only drive me mad
filastrocche come vengono
if snow could shed its light
upon my windowpane
through winter’s longest nights,
I’d shed my coat of pain.
filastrocche come vengono
someone should have taken
a photograph of me
with cats asleep on either side
wrapped in a furry dream.
[nel titolo del post prima c’era un refuso: folastrocche.]
filastrocche come vengono
I thought I’d found a way
of keeping it at bay
but ’twas the warmth of summer
that made it go away.