Words and rivers

I write a lot. I don't always write here. I write in French a lot. I don't think here is the place for French writing (although see what happens later here....!?)Language as a tool for thought. Thoughts molded by the language of their expression. I suppose ideally, if you wanted to be able to think all thoughts, you would have to learn all languages. and invent some. How to translate the Hindi JI...mark of respect, recognition of the value of the other person? How to juggle from baisers, to bisous, to bises, poutous with the English rigidity and harshness of the K of Kiss and of pecK? How to play the nuance between love and like in the lone aimer? Mix them all is what I say! Use what words you want, when you want, regardless of your interlocuteur...OK perhaps pas! There already exists too much difficulty in being truly understood, so let's not make matters worse. Each language does admirably what it does well and it's the job of those genius translators to provide the closest fit or feel...

Sometimes I wish I was a translator...but then again too much scrutiny does not suit my free spirit. Best to just free-flow and write my own stuff such as it is.

Here is a poem called

Labour of love: our words

Green and ochre butterflies on a background of seaspray,
Rivulets of rain on the parched earth of Summer,
Iliad and Odyssey of our love,
Precious weaving: safety net of the union of souls.

Labour of love: nos paroles

Papillons verts et ocre sur fond d'écume de mer.
Rigoles de pluie dans la terre sèche d'un été.
Illiade et Odissée de notre amour.
Tissage précieux: filet salvateur de l'union d'âmes.
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(Isn't it just soooo much better in French) (soooorryyyyy!)

Otherwise.....It was fun and frustrating to put together my new Ikea upholstered bedroom chair: complete with sprung seat..yippee! and screws that didn't quite fit!

It was fun and frustrating not to know which perfect sofa would fit my perfectly too small sitting room....

AND it is now getting too cold for me to go out: scary time! I can't breathe in sub 5 centigrade temperatures and my diesel car doesn't "do" instant heat...ah well Provence here I come. Or else stay at home and hole up for the Winter months.

Sorry if I am a bit dull to-night, I wanted to post something, just to keep in touch.

Love always,

Jocelyne