corner view ≈ on my wall

attic way
2009

they are funny things, walls. the eight years i spent in the previous house were marked by bare walls. i couldn't bring myself to decorate, since i intended to stay just a little while. now we have moved and hanging something on the wall is out of the question, for unfinished parts and pieces everywhere, i have grown truely, madly and deeply accostumed to bare walls. and enjoy those walls for what they are. 

having said that, i can easily fall for stuff on the wall. let's dive into my photographic archive, shall we, and see if there's anything worth showing. 

old bedroom
2006

hallway
2007

front room
2002

indeed. beside shadow play and light, and a cameo of younger son, that's it for the walls in the ol' house. this week's theme on my wall, coming from elsa, on jane's corner view, hosted by fuoriborgo.

drawing | balance

keeping balance when unstable underfoot, makes me think of the bridge. it could be indiana jones' bridge, falling apart in places, offering more chasm than any soul can bear. it hasn't grown into a recurring nightmare, this vision, either, but it's a close call, and whenever indiana & co near a said bridge, i hold my breath and wait the moment out. i wonder if it has anything to do with the fact my dad, when in a car and crossing a bridge as a child, always playfully begged of me, to lift up both my feet? ☻

i'm sure you all thought of right and proper balance. i'm throwing in a scale weight, over at ariane's.

vintage finds | jackie boy bear

it's been a while, and i've missed the crowd. circumstances required a different approach, until i almost burst. i'm talking visiting thrift shops, baby. i'm talking, finding i'm hooked. i'm also talking, to heal myself and my longing demands, high time to hit the road. jack. 

☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ 

shop window on vlaamsesteenweg, brussels
winter 2010

there. i've done my (un)fair bit of complaining. now, let's get down to business. you're so welcome to hop along. mind. hopping is required.

boggle & co, here scrabble
i still have plans with these
bear with, bear with

these a-ones esp. for quiet paws

she might go ta-dam, ta-dam

run dmc ;)))

so glad to feel this china in my hands

and then some

scenes from urban wallony

{they are modest coffee mugz}

which brings me to jackie boy bear

he sat in a dusty corner

he came really cheap

he needed a wash, a scrub

and now he's cuddly happy again

i thought. about jackie boy bear.

until mr. right hops along?

[this sign being vintage, and real life BIG!]
couldn't take it home.

an awful lot of hopping going on here, no?

i guess, now hopping over to sophie & co.

you lot! i'm off. to yours... hi-de-hi!

corner view ≈ destination

destination uncalled for, just a random thought popping to mind. if i could make some sense of it, i would offer you a front row view. truth is, i'm at a loss. maybe for lack of direction. 

until stepping out last saturday, when i stumble upon this weathered, handmade road sign. i've seen the sign blowing up and down the other end of the street all week. on further inspection, i'm affected by its cardboard quality, a furtively jotted down ball point destination by a  traveler anxious to get out, go elsewhere or come home. only then i notice the misspelling of this town's name, and the stilted lay-out. the sign makes me smile.

in its process of decay however, the board got blistered and beaten. some end to a recent, promising destination. ☻ circumstantial theme by kelleyn, on jane's corner view, hosted by fuoriborgo

brussels central
railway station on saturday night
i was starving, does it show?

out of africa

walt whitman traveled in my handbag, the very handbag i drew in my previous post. i bet the late poet didn't see that coming. myself traveling back from the museum on an airconditioned train, i lay the hard back in my lap, and let myself be blown away. i (only just now) realize SPECIMEN DAYS was written by mr. whitman, whilest michael cunningham reapplied said title in his 2005 novel (inspired by whitman). therefore i dare to conclude, that mr. cunningham loves walt too.

however. not my intention to go on about word and poetry right now. the africa museum in tervuren (brussels) hasn't moved since i was last there on a federal national holiday twenty years ago. 

back then fighter planes flew over low, as part of the day's patriotic show off. i was so young. i was without son. it's a fickle thing we can't look into the future. who knows. i may head back to tervuren in twenty years time. (and probably get off at maison stoclet this time. i noticed it briefly from the tram window, heading back downtown).

if i'd hoped to trip over inspirational african jewelry at all on this museum viewing, i assure you, i did not. 

the taxidermic elephant and giraffe seemed smaller than i randomly recall. 

the butterflies really spoke to me this time, in fluttering their wings complacently. 

as did the beetles. they smirked even. which made me wonder on how beauty also conspires to a mere impression in the mind, irrevocably leading to personal interpretation. 

loitering from one monumental hall to the next, feeling small for colossal surrounding walls, in term oozing mahogany colonialism, i felt suddenly lost for my own little country, that simply won't settle. 

i really felt/fell. for belgium. today.