A different kind of dinner-for-two

I took the day off. After attending to a few emails and just before leaving the office this morning, I went to the plastic donation box that the guys had set up the day before to collect money for the China and Myanmar disaster victims. I dropped in my money, an amount that was the price of a candlelight dinner for two in a fancy restaurant, and walked away wondering whether my gesture of charity was done more for the sake of the victims or more for the sake of myself; my selfish act of attempting to bribe my way to a place in heaven?

L'amour...

..est comme lêcher du miel sur une lame de rasoir

(Love is like licking honey on a razor blade)


- the Buddha? -

Four Drinks and A Conversation

Saturday dinner and drinks with Maarten...

White wine. I could not tell for sure if it was a sauvignon blanc. It was their house wine. The evening was incredibly warm. The refreshing cold white wine was a welcome respite from the heat, and it set the pace for the five-hour conversation that followed.

Red Wine. It was a Merlot. It was Italian. It was one of my personal favourites. We both finished our respective plates of pasta and the conversation drifted well into the night. We talked about the earthquake in China and the cyclone in Burma, the corrupt regimes and the dying children. We talked about new friends and past lovers; Love unrequited and Love obsessed.

Hazelnut Latte. Deuxième partie. We moved from the restaurant to the café. The friendly waitress recognised us. I greeted her and we quickly found our way to our favourite corner, the corner which had by now witnessed countless hours of debate between two friends. As always, the hazelnut latte was accompanied by the faithful teardrop teaspoon. Another friendly debate ensued.

Hot Chocolate. It has passed midnight now. There was still froth left in the latte cup and the teardrop spoon still shiny and unused, but it was time for drink number 4. The hot chocolate was served. And drunk. The conversation drew to a close, and so did the evening.

Mes petits Haïku

je bois un bon vin
avec un bouquet très beau
ça me plaît beaucoup

*****

il est presque midi
il fait si beau aujourd'hui
nous sommes samedi

*****

je chante à l'amour
chez moi c'est toujours l'été
voilà ha-ï-ku

A Lipogram

Missing One: One Missing

The missing "e" in the Void, written by Georges Perec, signifies the then quite soon-to-be missing person, who is spelled with the "e".

Tormented, Perec wrote his French piece, of mystery, of misery, in honour of the sufferings of his pining for the ones loved, the one missed, the Love lost. Through skilful trickery of words, he fleshed out his deepest thoughts, henceforth, producing Poetry in Prose. Cryptic like Life itself, cryptic like Love itself, the piece is reflective of his Journey through time.

In the footsteps of this excellent writer I here follow, to bring forth into being, onto this new medium of our times, my very own enticing Journey of Life; my very own Void.

Lisez-moi, chers lecteurs, et revivez mes emotions.