Sans abri ~ Coriolistic Anachronisms - A Vancouver Blog

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Nov 4
   Vintage! This is a random post. The year was 2006...

With the coming of my one year anniversary in Vancouver, I’ve collected my favorite pictures (they all appeared on the blog this year) and whipped out a new gallery of 50 Vancouver and BC shots. Nothing new in there if you’ve been reading the blog, but it’s fun to have them all together to browse through. I’m also preparing a new HDR-related gallery that will be a witness to my fumbling around this fascinating emerging technique, which will - mark my words - in time become the only way to take pictures...

02-12-8 Update: URLs have changed. The Vancouver gallery is now located here.

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2006-11-04 21:14 • Posted in Photography: & Web site news:

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  • 1 - Anonymous says:

    « Very happy first year in Vancouver anniversary.
    I wish you, because I’m polite, but mainly us, many many more !
    ;-) »

  • 2 - NewYorkangel says:

    « This is just so cool to see all of these pictures again!!
    Well done, mister! »

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We now go back to current chronological entries:
May 13
Le soleil la réchauffe agréablement. Elle ferme les yeux et le monde hostile qui l’entoure disparaît pour un moment. Elle oublie le bruit, le trafic, les passants, les odeurs, la pauvreté. Elle plane quelque part entre deux mondes, elle dérive à travers une existence imaginaire à peine plus agréable que la réalité.

C’est qu’elle a depuis longtemps perdu la capacité de rêver. Elle ne sait plus se concentrer assez, son esprit refusant de produire les couleurs nécessaires. Son univers n’est plus qu’un drame monochrome.

Elle vit dans la rue comme les chiens, et comme eux elle voit tout en noir et blanc. Le blanc du soleil sur les murs sales, le noir de la nuit froide et hostile. Le blanc d’une vieille croûte de pizza dénichée dans une poubelle, le noir du manque qui enserre son cerveau dans un étau implacable. Le blanc d’un sourire fugitif et de quelques pièces jetées au passage, le noir du mépris et de l’indifférence de mille visages chaque jour. Le blanc des effets anesthésiques de l’alcool, le noir de la faim continuelle qui lui serre le ventre.

Mais pour le moment, le soleil la réchauffe et elle ne veut pas encore penser à la nuit qui s’avance déjà, aux bagarres qui s’ensuivront, à la solitude, au froid glacial s’immisçant à la fois du dehors et du dedans.

Elle est fatiguée. Elle veut s’endormir. Elle veut se réveiller. Elle veut être ailleurs. Elle veut que la douleur disparaisse. Mais rien ne change.

Her eyes no longer see beauty. They watch, through a thick layer of sorrow and shock, a grinning world go by day after day.

She has given up on her childhood memories. Surely, they must have belonged to someone else. Besides they weren’t fun any way. Suffering started early and was the only constant thing to remember.

People stare at her from across the street but as they get closer, she mysteriously vanishes from their field of vision. She stops existing. She’s not quite invisible, however, because they take great care in avoiding her.

She often gets angry at passers by, at the entire city, at the whole human race. But sooner or later, her anger fades away. Hunger prevails and she slips back into a dazed stupor. She no longer wonders how she ended up like this. It’s all pointless now. It always was.

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2006-05-13 23:56 • Posted in Schtroumpfissime:

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