Wind, salt and ...

The call of a seagull breaking the silence. A flock of screaming sea birds fighting for a piece of baguette left in a waste basket. The sun rising behind the tossing masts of the boats moored along the channel-harbor of Caen. A clear blue sky. The smell of salt coming with the wind. I couldn't ask for more this morning.

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Caen, first day.

My first time in Normandy. Together with my wife, I had planned, many years ago, to reach the northern coast of France by car, on a long tour that should have lasted three weeks but then something unexpected happened that changed our lives and our Tour de France was never made.

Yesterday, I landed in Paris in the early afternoon in company of a colleague of mine. I took a rental car and drove off the big city ring, along the course of La Seine, till we found ourselves in the meadows around Rouen. There we stopped for a coffee and an initial taste of sea winds. When we got in town it was too late to see anything but the lights of the streets lamps reflected on the channel-harbor reaching the city center.  I took a first picture of my room view when the sun had set long time before. So I promised myself to take another one on the morning after.

(Made and sent from my mobile.)

Sunset in Mougins

I'm wondering if Pablo Picasso, walking along the narrow streets of his village of adoption, has ever stopped at the entrance of this alley, on a warm February evening and stared at the palette offered by the sunset

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Backlit Dyptic

Beauty can be found everywhere. Even on the windowsill of a public restroom.

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The Ring Counter

I can consider today as one of the most fruitful days spent in the last one year and half, which is more or less the amount of time that passed since my last business trip in Sweden. Beside being intensively busy with my colleagues in an interesting (and endless) workshop in Sophia Antipolis, somewhere on the hillside of Antibes, I managed to do two things that I couldn't imagine till last Sunday afternoon, when I was waiting for the flight in the hall of Graz airport: a quick visit, a blitz to a photography exhibition in the old village of Mougins and a walk on the seaside, along the walls and the alleys of the old town of Antibes.

It's been like having enjoyed a 25 hours day. At some point the counter stopped and I got lost into this time frame from where I would have never wanted to get out again. My senses have rejuvenated. This afternoon I've been able to taste again with the eyes extraordinary pieces of photography from André Villers. This evening I've been able to taste again the smell of salt and fishes at the sound of the crashing waves. It doesn't happen so often anymore. Not really.

No need for photographs

(Made and sent from my Mobile)

Too many two's ...

Flight two-two-two-two to Toulouse ready for boarding at gate two ...

Mougins

I'm back on track.

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Babel

What a mess in our lives! We don't know anymore which language to use.

The Fisherman

This is going to be a very long winter. The fisherman in me is looking back in time not to forget his roots.