⌗FMF, Five Minute Friday, 14th June, GOAL

Welcome back to another Five Minute Friday post.
Sorry for the late entry !
Write Five minutes flat on a word prompt every week.

If you would like to know more about FMF, join Kate go here

This Week:

GOAL

It's vital to set goals in life. Something to forge ahead towards. Future pleasures or challenges to look forward to. Culltivate a spark of ambition. Strive to grow in spirit, in knowledge, in creativity: all food for the soul.

No pressure: attainable goals and a sprinkly of dreams that can become targets in the long run. Small tasks which like rungs of a ladder elevate you to new heights. In order to survey the world and your life from a peak of insightful understanding. To change perspective, to discover new ways in which to spur your horse of completion. It is never ending.

Every step calls to another, opens the mind, creates original ideas, fresh aspirations, improved goals. The sky is the limit but the time to accomplish them is finite. Unless your children and grand-children seek to pick up the torch and pursue the journey where you left the train.

©susanbauryrouchard

M'en voulez-vous, Pauline Croze, go here

Yet Again, Grizzly Bear, go here

Solusbury Hill, Peter Gabriel, LIVE mix 1993/2019, go here

Time in a Bottle, Jim Croce, 1973, go here

Diamonds and Rust, Joan Baez, mix photos with Bob Dylan, with lyrics,  go here

Harvest Moon, Neil Young, go here

500 miles, film Inside Llewyn Davies, go here

Rwanda 1989, Volcano, Mount Muhabura

Mount Fuji is always in the background of every Japanese's life.

Everyone must climb it at least once in their existence to be complete.

Photos by my friend André. Summer 1991.

Monte Viso, Southern Alps, Italy, 

July-August 1991, 3850 m.

It's very steep

And, yes, the picture is the right way up !

André at the top

Success

and

Rest

and me.

Cimb, team effort.

Tête d' Estoillies, 3175 m

View from the  Bric de Buren, 

3350 m.

Monte Viso at sunrise

reach for the Moon

Thank you for reading. Please feel free to comment and I will be sure to reply. Have an inspiring week. Summer here in Toulouse, at last !

⌗WEP-IWSG challenge, CAGED BIRD, Friday 14th June 2019

Good Morning, and thank you for visiting.

I signed up for the June Challenge of the combined WEP-IWSG community of writers.

If you would like to know more about Write...Edit...Publish go here

and the Insecure Writers' Support Group  go here

I wrote a short story for February, theme, 28 DAYS that you can read here

I did not write anything for Jewel Box because  I was participating in the A to Z Challenge April 2019 (Tenth Anniversary) for the first time and still groping around for my marks !

If you would like to sign up for the next (August) challenge go here and save the page.

Here is my short story with the theme CAGED BIRD.

It is set in Sitges, Catalunya, on the Mediterranean coast.

Where I wrote the story. Been going there since 2009. Home away from Home, every May.

Tim and Sam

The early morning sun crests the Garraf and twinkles onto the sea. A shaft of golden green paints a path onto the lapping waves. As the minutes pass, the carpet of cloud rolls up as the orb climbs the cliffs to explode in the sky.

Timothy, on his terrace, sips at his tea and nibbles on an apricot cereal bar. A bowl of strawberry flavoured cream bears witness to an earlier feast on awakening.

                  ' You're up early ! ' Sam crumpled features appear through the French windows to the terraza. He pulls up the chaise-longue to bask in the clear breeze.
                    ' The parade is this afternoon, remember ! I still have some last details to attend to. '
                    ' I thought Luis had everything in hand ! '
                    ' You know me, I don't want to leave anything to chance. '
                    ' Control freak ! ' Sam scolded playfully.
                    ' On ne se refait pas ! '
                    ' Would you like some breakfast ? Although it looks like you have a head's start. '
                    ' Quit taunting ! If you're making tea, brew a full pot, will you please ! I'll just nip into
                      the shower. '

Sam hands him his canvas bag overflowing with accessories and Tim grabs his keys.

                      ' See you near the Platja de Terramar at 2.00, be on time !'
                   ' Don't worry, I'll be back from my four-hour hike in the Garraf...' Tim narrows his eyes and his teeth clench. ' Just kidding ! You should see your face ! You're such an easy target. '

                  Tim closes the door behind him and clatters down the narrow winding, paint-flaked, wooden staircase. He secures his canvas bag in the basket and hops onto his bicycle.
The town is quiet. Some late-night revellers are talking loudly on the beach, re-inventing the World. Some early bathers are criss-crossing laps in the sea. A few wisps of dawn clouds linger. No wind disturbs the surface of the water. The midget waves break, whispering on the fine sand.
                    Tim turns into Luis' courtyard and stands his bike next to the workshop door. Luis is drinking coffee, still in his bathrobe, shiny-eyed, dishevelled head.

                         ' Todavía, no estas listo ! '
                         ' Charlando con amigos y cerveza hasta las dos ! ' Luis replies.
                         ' Fissa, tenemos que levar todo el equipaje hasta el magatzem . '

At the warehouse:

                     ' Podremos, quizá , poner mas flores alrededor de su cabeza, torsado en la corona !          
                       Que opines ? '
                     ' Si, si, buena idea.'
                         
Tim and Luis select a few irises and pink roses to stick in the thorns about the statue's head. She looks stunning. A bright muslin dress flows around her legs and reveals an ample bosom, in a tight V decolleté. Her giant feet with splayed painted toes stand in light leather sandals.
Satisfied with their creation, Tim, Luis and a few other members of their gang shove at the levers around the float and stir the wheels towards the sliding doors of the hangar.
Tim steps outdoors and joins the Mayor and Esteban, the parade supervisor.
                         
                              ' Estamos listos, esperando en su siñal.'  Tim greeted them.
                       ' Bien, bien. Unos rezagados todavía . Digamos un quarto de hora antes de empezar a constituir la fila,'  explained Esteban.

Sam is idly gazing over the ripples, looking at the gulls dipping in and out of the surface, emerging with gleaming peixets. The parade should be coming from the Avinguda de Salvador Cassacuberta any minute now. Tim had sent a text. Sam heard the band first. Trumpets, cymbals, trombone and Sac de Gemecs. Then, at tree level, he glimpses feathers, bright specks against dark green leaves.
The sight is awe-inspiring. Float upon float laden with baskets of flowers: roses, tulips, irises, lavender...surround the statues. Queens, princesses, angels with gigantic breats and huge thighs bulging from tight robes. Some have beards, some have hair cascading to their feet. Reds, yellows, white, orange. Rainbow banners: ' Sitges, Juny 2019 '.
The paraders are all dressed up in gay dresses and suits. Some with plumed helmets or flower twirled crowns, others with hawaian reaths about their necks. Women, men. children join in. They dance to the thunderous tunes. They sing along to the Catalan chants.

Tim emerges from behind a winged gruffalo, jumps in motion and runs towards Sam onto the steps running along the Rambla.
The parade rolls and rumbles along the Passeig Maritim. The crowd leaves the floats on the Plaça dela Fregata to proceed up the steps. At the canons, they pause. Aficionados take pictures with the sea for background, sparkling under the late afternoon sun. They all climb the last steps to the Plaça del Baluard and the church bells toll to welcome them. Down the paved Caller de Fonoller, along the fishing harbour until they can no longer continue. They were not going to explore the goat trails of the Garraf , at least, not today.
Up through the cobbled alleys of the old town, they stamp or creep according to their disposition.
                             ' Una birra si us plau ! '
                             ' Una margarita per aqui. '
                             ' Un gin tonic amb un shot de tequila per aka. '

a blast of trumpets, a clash of cymbals and they are off to the next bar de nit, exceptionally open at this early hour. The big drum beats to the DJs' tunes and everyone dances: style or no style, nobody gives a hoot.

                                ' It's half-nine, better start for the Platja dela Ribera. ' Tim shouts to Sam above the din.
They jostle their way down the Caller de Bonaire and check on the floats. The Mayor has posted sentinels to guard the giants and their paraphernalia.

Suddenly a crack, a whoosh and the sky explodes into a billion stars. Best fireworks in the World !
A last blast takes flight and rains rainbow sparks.

                                  ' Here come the cages ! ' exclaims Sam.

The flower-weaved bars are opened and a hundred white doves take to the the moon. When the Ooohs and Aaahs, the applause have died down, Sam turns to Tim.

                                  ' Let's have a kid. '

Tim smiles, banana mouth.
                                  ' Gabriella can be our surrogate mother. ' he adds.

They put their hands around eachother's waists and sway towards home.

 ©susanbauryrouchard

And just for fun, here is a poem that I wrote in December 2015, which is oddly appropriate....

I haven't changed a word ! The World works in mysterious ways !

Free

I know why the caged bird sings.

he sings for freedom - he sings

to draw attention to his lot.

He sings to bear his confinement.

He sings as soon as the sun

crosses the horizon. He sings

to the sparrow, to the tit who sit

on the branches of the lime tree.

He sings to forget.

The caged bird sings

when he hears the bluejay

strain. He sings when 

the mockingbird is silent.

He sings because he was made

that way and his vocal chords

have not been taken away.

The truth is like a waddled-up

handkerchief soping wet

in a pocket. May the air flow 

through the bars and cool

the feathers

of the caged bird

when he has finished

his song.

©susanbauryrouchard


Break Free, Queen, go here
Live Forever, Queen, extract Highlander. go here

Funeral for a friend, Sir Elton John, LIVE Prague, May 2019. go here
Song for a Guy, video, go here
Someone Saved my Life Tonight, LIVE, Old Grey Whistle, 1982. go here

Fool's Overture, Roger Hudgson, video, go here

Don't Give Up, Peter Gabriel, LIVE World Tour with Paula Cole, 1993. go here

My photos Sitges, 29th-31st May 2019

The Official guide to Sitges Gay Pride June 2019, on Wordpress, go here

Sitges tourist information site, Visit Sitges, go here

Thank you for visiting and reading. Please feel free to like/dislike, comment, discuss and I will be sure to reply and visit your blog to read your own contribution.

Sunny here in Toulouse, Spring in full bloom, Summer soon.

Have an inspiring weekend.

⌗Freedom-of-Expression Challenge, Thursday 6th June 2019, DREAM

Welcome to Week 23 of the Thursday Freedom of Expression Challenge hosted by 

Richa at iScriblr, amazing Haiku blogger among other gems.

If you would like to know more about this challenge and join up, 

go here

Post every Thursday on a word prompt. Writing (poems, short stories, fiction, articles); reading, photography, painting, drawing, sculpture, music, film,  quotes...whatever inspires you.

Today, DREAM

Dreamer, I'm nothing but a Dreamer, can I put my hands in my head, 
Oh ! No !

Supertramp (my version)

Dreams are what make life liveable. They are what makes us Human. Do animals dream ? Do they have nightmares ? In Jean-Jacques Annaud's film l'Ours, the baby bear does. A toad is its' worst nightmare.

When we sleep our dreams are fuelled by what has gone on in the day or echoes of what has happened to us in the past, what we have read, listened to, seen. They spur our imaginative writing. That's why early morning writing is so valuable, so productive: our dreams are still fresh.

Our day-dreams warm-up our hearts. Our thought-through dreams set us goals  and pave our way forward.

Don't let anyway take your dreams away ! If your dreams die, your inner-self dies along with them !

A boss once told me that, in life, we couldn't do what we wanted, that we were all sheep, condemned to follow the flow, to stay in rank, to stay in check !

Asshole ! I retorted that I was not a sheep but a Ram ! (I am too, Aries, )

And that I lived in the Land of 'Do-as-you-please' It took me 40 years of my life to finally get there !

Poem inspired by a Dream/Nightmare, December 2009.

She gets up and steps

into the hotel corridor.

Barefoot, her white

cotton nightdress

frayed at the edges.

Tears sewn up

summarily.

Her tread patters

on the rough carpet

along the windows.

The corridor is blasting

with light, although

all is quiet. Hundreds

of strangers huddle 

under their sheets

unknown to her night walk.

She imagines blown-up

heads billowing along

towards her. Japanese

Manga freaks with no legs.

Chattering menacing teeth.

They become real and then

they disappear. A staircase winds

down from the left, blue

linoleum. Another corridor

joins her own. Daytime 

explodes around her.

Future's ghosts busily

bustling towards

conference rooms

with briefcases clenched

and tight legs in tight

skirts. Blazing ties

and sleek black hair.

Hands demonstrating

a point; a laugh,

an angry shout.

The pace quickens

and time lines

stream past

the jostling crowd.

Suddenly the Present

jolts back into place.

All is still again.

Just her and the coffee

machine at the end

of the corridor,

stretching doors, floors.

©susanbauryrouchard

L'Ours de Jean-Jacques Annaud. 1988, full film (English version). The bear's dream, minute 10.00, 
go here



Dreamer, Supertramp, 1974 ( Crime of the Century ). 
go here

Imagine, John Lennon Live in New York City. 
go here

The Magic Faraway Tree, Enid Blighton, 1943.
go here

2002 edition

1978 edition. I first read them in 1971.

My Photos that warm my heart.

1st May 2014

rose at Elie du Bois, May 2014

Montory, Pyrénées April 2014

Deauville, April 2013

Compton Acres, Bournemouth

July 2010, Alice's photo.

Old Harry Rocks, July 2010

Beg Meil, Brittany July 2012

Laggo Guarda, July 2009

Alice's photo

Emma and I, Italy July 2009

Alice's photo

My home village, Chambourcy

December 2013

view over the Seine valley

from my bedroom window

December 2015

Delicate Arch, Moab Utah

July 2013

Morning Moon

from my garden, February 2019

Thank you for reading. Please feel free to comment, discuss, like, dislike. And I will be sure to reply.

Sunshine and blowing, billowy clouds. Cool breeze from the West, the Atlantic.

⌗FMF Challenge, Friday 7th June 2019, WELL

Well, It's Friday again, Five Minute Friday challenge.

Write for five minutes flat on a word prompt.

We're late ! Poor Kate, she has a lot on her plate. Let us pause and thank her for all her hard work to make us better writers. Hoping she is well and truly O.K.

If you would like to learn more about Five Minute Friday and join this group, go here

Today's word is WELL.

❀ I will not be talking about the stone lined hole in the ground from which we draw water, but the well of feeling good, in health.

Such a bland word, used so casually. What do we mean when we ask someone if they are well ?

A polite way to start a conversation or a letter. In Africa you inquire about the person you are talking to, and all of his family; his job, his welfare, his interests, his occupations, his health. This is very important and can take a long while, even if you have only met this person.

We have lost this consideration in the North. In Muslim communities, they still abide by this unspoken rule. In Japan and other Asian countries too.

❀ Sometimes we use the expression as a sincere inquiry into the person's health. We answer 'Very well, thank you' or 'yes, I'm O.K.'  , but are they ? We are concerned for their well-being and we start to worry. Do we worry because we really care or because we are worried that this loved one will just add to our pile of worries.

❀ How can we live selflessly and feel wholly well enough to care for others in a friendly, compassionate way without infringing on their privacy, their intimacy even, sometimes ? A health professional can attempt to chase illness so that the body is well. How about the mind ?

Is it lawful and respectful of another's dignity to slide into their shoes and show them a way to wellness ?

❀ Each and every one of us is different. Some feel alright living with all sorts of bodily harms and spiritual pains. Others are never well, whatever their degree of fitness.

Another person can provide comfort, joy and love. However our own freewill should spur us on into finding our own path, our own place, our wholeness, our wellness. The best way to heal, to heal your body, to heal your mind is by first learning to love yourself. To accept yourself, to change what you can with foremost your well-being in mind and let all things that you can't control slip over you like a receeding wave.

❀ Then and only then can we truly care for the wellness of others. Of course most of us just operate a balancing act all our lives, but by striving to first care for yourself, you become stronger and more apt to bring love and joy to others.

©susanbauryrouchard.

Just the Two of Us, Supertramp, Roger Hodgson, go here

West Side Story, One Hand One Heart, go here

Queen, I want to Break Free, FREDDY Mercury, go here

My Lady, film trailer. With Emma Thompson, go here

Ramen Shop, film trailer, Singapore, go here

Interview crew, go here

Thank you for reading. Please feel free to like, comment, react, agree, disagree, discuss and I will be sure to reply.

Have a lovely weekend.

Puigcerda, Spanish Pyrenees, on the border with France, 

1st June 2019, coming back from Sitges.

Still snow névée on the Mountains

Villefranche de Conflent, near Prades

Cité Vauban, UNESCO protected site.

US Invasion !

⌗IWSG, Wednesday 5th June 2019

I'm late, I'm late, I'm late....she said looking at her pocket watch...
It's that time of month, busy like a bee, it slipped her mind. No pocket watch or calendar could save Humpty Dumpty.....

Welcome to the Insecure Writer's Support Group. Every month share your thoughts about writing prompted by a question.

           

If you would like to know more and join this enhancing group. go here

This month the question is :

Of all the genres you read and write, which is your favourite to write in and why ?


When a child , I loved stories involving people I could relate to. As I grew up my favourite characters just got older with me.
Now I enjoy all ages for my protagonists, read fiction and non-fiction about children and adults.
The genre never really mattered as long as the characters felt real and belonged to whatever universe they evolved in. I began writing with poems and non-fiction : descriptions, impressions, thoughts.

I started reading science-fiction very early on and it grew on me as I learned maths and physics, also as I took an increasing interest in the Universe. As I read, I started to write sci-fi stories too and still enjoy writing them. They are less outer space now and more anticipation.
Historical fiction was always fascinating too. It was a trip into the past : I learnt a lot and this genre fulfilled my itching for time travel.    
When these two genres are combined, I am in Heaven. However I have never written a story about time travelling : I choose a period in the present, the past or the future and stick to it. My characters on the other hand are free to time-travel in their minds : to reminisce, discover new aspects of a forgotten period or visit a faraway culture.

Fantasy and magic come next as a reader. As a child Dragons and Ghosts, later I discovered J.R.R.Tolkien at 14 and entered a whole new dimension. However I have never written a story with anything fantastical about it. The closest I get is 'eerie' or 'unexplained'.

In Poetry, the narrative poem is my favourite read. My own poems explore the narrative, the contemplative and the reflective. Sometimes they can take on a dreamlike quality and appear as fantasy but they are rooted in experienced truths.

Mysteries and Crime are all-time favourites. I started with the Famous Five when learning to read but quickly preferred Enid Blyton's The Enchanted Wood, the Treacle Pudding or other Wishing chair type stories. My late sister stuck to the Secret Seven and the Naughtiest Girl, who was, for her, along with Dorothy Edwards' My Naughty Little Sister, what she had to live through every day with....me ! For my part I would get lost in the land of "Do-As-You-Please' !

Arthur Conan Doyle then took over with Crime. My writing has not explored mystery or murder as of yet. I suppose a weekly diet of Hitchcock humbled me as to my ability to create meaningful suspense ! However the great film Director introduced me to Daphne Du Maurier. A strong female voice that I could identify with. In the same vein, Jane Eyre was The Revelation amongst the Brontë Sisters' work. To succeed in emulating these all-time greats would be quite an achievement indeed !

Finally, at 17 I discovered John Irving. And my ultimate goal as a writer was now clear.

Theatre is never far away : Shakespeare, Marcel Pagnol, Sartre and Jean Cocteau; Thorton Wilder, Brecht, Tom Stoppard, Oscar Wilde and Samuel Beckett. Although I was incapable of writing a play, my mastery of dialogue was poor, at best, I have dabbled in this genre...without success. Hence my hitherto unwritten novel !

Science Fiction

C.S. Lewis
John Wyndham                                           Arthue C. Clarke                       Ray Bradbury
Isaac Asimov                                              Kurt Vonnegut
Georges Orwell                                          H.G. Wells                                 Aldous Huxley

Historical Fiction

Jean Plaidy
Robert Merle                                             Lian Hearn
Philippa Gregory                                      Dian Gabardon
Carlos Luis Zafon

Fantasy and Magic

E. Nesbit
Enid Blyton                                             Penelope Lively                           Susan Dickenson
Barbara Euphan Todd                             Aiden chambers                           Elizabeth George Speare
J.R.R. Tolkien                                         C.S.Lewis                                    Terry Pratchett
J.K.Rowling                                           Philip Pullman                              Lev Grossman
and most recently, fellow writers           Yvette Carol                                 Lisa Fender

Crime and Mystery

Enid Blyton                                          Arthur Conan Doyle                     Michael Crichton
Jo Nesbo                                               Paula Hawkins                              Elizabeth Georges
Stieg Laarson                                       Karen Giebel                                 Agatha Christie

Poetry

Keats
Coleridge                                             Wordsworth                                   Robert Burns
Shakespeare                                         Rimbaud                                        Baudelaire
Ted Hughes                                          Gerard Manley Hopkins                Sylvia Plath
Kenneth Koch                                      Billy Collins                                  Carol Ann Duffy
and most recently,                               Tamar Yoseloff                               Rebecca Gethin

Collections Fiction

John Irving                                          H.E Bates                                      Robert Merle
René Barjavel                                      Umberto Eco                                Bernard Werber
Boris Vian                                            Kafka                                            André Brink
Jostein Gaarner                                    David Lodge                                 Robertson Davies
Margaret Atwood                                Carol Shields                                 Margaret Forster
Paul Auster                                          Pat Barker                                     Kasuo Ishiguro
Henry James                                        Shakespeare                                  Charles Dickens
Mark Twain                                         Jack London                                  John Steinbeck
F. Scott Fitzgerald                               Sartre                                             Camus

Graphic Novels ( over 300 in our bookcases )

Belgian School                                  French School                                Italian School
Argentine                                          Windsor Mc Kay                            J.B. Frost
Peanuts                                              MAD  artists


Thank you for reading. Please feel free to comment, give your input, ask questions and I will be sure to reply.
Have a lovely week End.

          
                                                                                                       
                                                                           

⌗WEP-IWSG, CAGED BIRD Sign Up, June 1st 2019.

Good Morning, and thank you for visiting.

I am signing up for the June Challenge of the combined WEP-IWSG community of writers.
If you would like to know more about Write...Edit...Publish go here
and the Insecure Writers' Support Group  go here

I wrote a short story for February, theme, 28 DAYS that you can read here
I did not write anything for Jewel Box because  I was participating in the A to Z Challenge April 2019 (Tenth Anniversary) for the first time and still groping around for my marks !

In June I will be writing a short story with the theme CAGED BIRD.
It will be set in Sitges, Catalunia, on the coast.

If you would like to sign up for this challenge go here

Thank you for reading. Please feel free to comment, like, dislike, share, discuss. And I will be sure to reply shortly.
Have a pleasant weekend.

#FMF, Friday 31st May, 2019, NAME

It’s Friday again. time for a new FMF post. Missed last week, as I was at the World Impact Summit at Bordeaux, France. Ecological Fair, France-Africa, finding sustainable solutions for the development of the African continent : energy ressources, water, nutrition, power, irrigation, digital networks, education, health, basic rights.
Write every Friday for Five Minutes Flat on a word prompt.
If you would like to know more about FMF challenges, Kate and her Gang go here

NAME


Safari M. my new Congolese friend who showed me the way.
Who knew my name before I opened my mouth. Who saw me for who I was before I uttered my name. Who danced my son and I through the night and imparted wisdom beyond his years. I, his ‘Mama’ , him, ‘mon fils’.
Who quoted Richard the third to me !
‘A horse, a horse, my kingdom for....chocolate !’
No more to say. Tell me your name, and I will tell you who you are !
Tell me who are your friends and I will tell you where you are going from here.

Queen, I want to break Free, Go here

Thank you for reading. Please feel free to comment, like, dislike, discuss. And I will be sure to reply.
Sunny , here in Sitges. Gay pride tomorrow. Beach, pool, reading, writing, watching Roland Garros Vamos Rafa !
Have a very pleasant weekend.