“What is best in music is not to be found in the notes….I don’t choose what I compose. It chooses me.” Gustav Mahler
Washington
08 Tuesday Feb 2022
Posted in INSTRUMENTS, Uncategorized
08 Tuesday Feb 2022
Posted in INSTRUMENTS, Uncategorized
“What is best in music is not to be found in the notes….I don’t choose what I compose. It chooses me.” Gustav Mahler
27 Thursday Jan 2022
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Knott’s bowl 2022
“This dish was served to Mr Knott, cold, in a bowl, at twelve o’clock noon sharp and at seven p.m. exactly, all the year round.
That is to say that Watt carried in the bowl, full, to the dining-room at those hours, and left it on the table. An hour later he went back and took it away, in whatever state Mr Knott had left it. If the bowl still contained food, then Watt transferred this food to the dog’s dish. But if it was empty, then Watt washed it up, in readiness for the next meal.
So Watt never saw Mr Knott at mealtime. For Mr Knott was never punctual, at his meals. But he was seldom later than twenty minutes, or half an hour. And whether he emptied the bowl, or did not, it never took him more than five minutes to do so, or seven minutes at the outside. So that Mr Knott was never in the dining-room when Watt brought in the bowl, and he was never there either when Watt went back, to take the bowl away. So Watt never saw Mr Knott, never never saw Mr Knott, at mealtime.”
SAMUEL BECKETT: Watt
26 Friday Nov 2021
Posted in Architecture, Poetry, Uncategorized
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When I look at you
A reed smell comes to me
Thin periscope
Discreet among all the chirping and bird songs
It’s all about echolocation
Tonight
I wanted to let the sky enter my foundations
Widen the walls
Surprise the slow sway of the branches in the wind
Everything changed
My building no longer needs columns or a water jet
I started looking for air holes that would break the sonorous magma of the city
The envelope of my building is no longer an envelope.
The walls are no longer walls
I told you about Herzog’s diary
How he had undertaken a twenty two days march from Munich to Paris
Against the fate of the imminent death of Lotte Eisner
Haw at the end he walks into the sick room declaring
Open the window for the past few days I have been able to fly
So do I

24 Wednesday Nov 2021
Posted in Memory, Uncategorized
Feeling nostalgic today. Longing for the past. Not mine but ours. We have fallen into an eternal present where everything that happens is obsessively ′′ cartographed “. The chance to process has vanished as time has vanished, losing the ability to transform into memory. Every fact equals another. In the background there is insisting an endless comment and the feeling is that it’s an empty talk, which never really exists, since there’s no longer a real object of conversation, of comparison. There are no longer events that surpass us and on the track of which we are stubbornly standing. Nothing that deserves to be archived in the remittance of Memory and History.
And then, inevitably, I remember the last Fellini, the one of the moon’s voice, when the naive protagonist, melancholy poet and in love, summarily says: ′′ Yet I believe that if there was a bit of silence, everyone Let’s keep quiet, maybe we can understand something “.
03 Wednesday Nov 2021
Posted in Aviation, Memory, Uncategorized

The reinforcements are in place: the sand, the cement, the stones, the water to bury the archives are missing. Behind, all around, between two cracks, thrive, from left to right; a piece of steel from the collapsed World Trade Center, a piece from the damaged Pentagon in DC and a rock from the crash site of UA Flight 93 (Shanksville PA). The past shines like never before, without witnesses.
05 Tuesday Oct 2021
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He had very little room. His time too was limited. He hastened incessantly on, as if in despair, towards extremely close objectives. Now, a prisoner, he hurled himself at I know not what narrow confines, and now, hunted, he sought refuge near the centre. Samuel Beckett
11 Wednesday Aug 2021
Posted in Sports, Uncategorized
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flying, kayaking, paddle, sailing, specialized bike, volley ball
03 Tuesday Aug 2021
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“La fidélité aux sources est passée par la mort des éléments comme la moisson passe par la mort du grain”.
05 Monday Jul 2021
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He who does not exist does not know
He who obeys does not suffer.
It’s up to the one who exists to know
Why to completely obey
Is never to suffer
When the Being is the one that bursts
Like the swell of the sea
You’ll never be set free
They’ll go right to the end as you toss and turn
You face the bitterest fate.
The fishes in the sea are dead
Because they chose not to be
To go right to the end without knowing anything
Of what you call obeying
God is the only one who refuses to obey
All the other beings do not yet exist
And they suffer
They suffer neither dead nor alive
Why?
« But in the end those who obey live
You can’t say that they don’t exist. »
« They live and they don’t exist.
Why? »
« Why? The door that separates the Being from obeying
Must be torn down! »
The Being is the one who imagines himself
To be sufficient to not need
To learn what the sea wants…
« But every little fish knows it! »
Antonin Artaud
25 Friday Jun 2021
Posted in Aviation, Uncategorized
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