charming?

Isabelle suggested un beau mini-voyage into the country courtesy of that best left unpronounced RER. A town called Chamarande or something very close to that. The town was never visited and the suggested forest only slightly slivered but the "chateau" (not really a castle but more of a manor house) was explored and I have to say the grounds are most beautiful after closing time.


Sun goes down, makes my memory run backwards past real experience, to beauty incapable of everyday existence and therefore altogether unreal even in its natural setting. See how still the water runs?

I loved that. I want a house with red vines and a matching life. The picture below is unbudging brook that reminded me of Klimt but refused well my offers of portraiture.

Finally, here is more beauty of a similar color palate. Maybe if you click on it to make it bigger it will suddenly look more interesting, and you will notice jus how perfect the reflection appears, how wrought the bridge, how quenched the tree.


The coolest thing about the manor, though, was the interior decor. Far from seeking to recreate the place to its swankiest historical possibilities, some wise someoneorother decided to reappropriate the old space for new, at least middlingly-interesting art. There was a strange cartoon movie, loud repetitive and with good transitions; there was an evil duck flying from one of the evilest sculptures I've ever seen. There was a light-up cube, we assumed made for disco and acting on assumption failed even to break some art. Tristan squished a penny on the rail tracks, though.

That was last weekend, along with the artist who wanted to be Franz Kline but really was just a guy with some good owls and a really excelent cat. I can't remember how many letters anything has. HmmWell, this weekend--who knows? The week, well but not now. I'm tired and worn through and out, and I miss my love-ed ones, be. You.