Moroccan Nikita's

Things are not always what they seem to be.  Ok we all know that. But are we really aware of the huge gap between what we think they are, what we see, and what they are (supposedly) in "reality"?  When I had made an appointment with the surgeon for my cornea transplantation, I was so scared that I strongly believed I was going to die. I know it may sound funny, and exaggerated. But I knew it. It was not that I was afraid of having some complications during the surgery, and loose an eye, or that the intervention was especially dangerous and could cost my life. It was not the result of any reasonable thinking. It was just a diffuse feeling telling me that, inevitably, there would be no tomorrow after I'd have stepped into hospital. I was afraid of the hospital building itself, of the nurses, of the blood tests, of the needle they would stick into my hand for anesthesia. That fear could have killed me easier than anything else, I guess. However, once i...

"Lleva azahar, lleva olivas, Andalucía, a tus mares. " F.G. Lorca (Baladilla de los tres rios) Spring unfolded in orange blossoms. Walking in Seville at this time of the year means walking with your nostrils wide open toward the sky, catching at every step the utterly pleasant scent of these tiny white flowers flying and falling around like snowflakes. With the azahar, came the Semana Santa, kicking off April's festivities. Did I say festivities? I did my first Holy Week "madrugada" this year and if the weather was rather moody, well at least I could see quite a few Virgins and Christs dancing their ways through the city.  Last year I was waiting 4 hours for la Virgen de la Esperanza in the rain and she never came out. This time, it seems she wanted to make it up and she pursued us all night long on Holy Thursday.  We saw her come out of her church in Triana, "en la gloria", under a rain of rose petals and a thunder of shouts "Trianeeeeeeera...

“You can’t think how I depend on you, and when you’re not there the color goes out of my life.” ~ Virginia Woolf — to her sister

                  In the middle of my dream, I heard something like  "now it's gonna hurt a bit". Before I had the time to react, the nurse had torn off the bandage that was covering my right eye.  She helped me to stand up, guided me through the hall, round the stairwell, left, left again, and made me sit in front of the slit lamp. Time for the ward round. I was half asleep, had the feeling the place was crowded, and could barely see anything.  The familiar voice of my surgeon draw my attention so I put my chin on the machine to have my eye checked. When the doctor carefully opened my swollen eye, I felt like the strangest thing was happening to me. I could see the closest forms to my eye quite clearly but as if it was through pristine water. The lines of the microscope I saw were clean, even if swaying , the world looked like if I was diving in an aquarium. I was seeing. through the eye of someone else.  Exactly one ye...

Kony 2012 had been on all week long on Facebook. Seriously, people, why do you share every viral video you see on your social networks without double-checking information? Ok that's about Uganda, and it made me think of my Moscow trip made possible by "Johnny" from Rwanda. It was a day like any other in our Brussels office (oh and I sometimes miss this attic overflowing with instruments, old pictures, yellowish newspaper-clips, rolls of  paper for faxes - these were not there anymore - and more STUFF) when we received a phone call from Russia. It was "Johnny" from Moscow, requesting one of our Balkan Brass bands. From then on, we were talking to Johnny everyday. Not that the negotiation would have been tough. Nothing was a problem for Johnny. Not the travels from Macedonia for 12 people, not the fee (that we had set high, cause well, prejudice made it so that you don't want to do business with unknown promoters unless it is very well paid and paid in advanc...

Notre enquête se confirme. Nous avons trouvé hier dans la cheminée du château de C., à moitié consumées, deux lettres de la comtesse Marianne de Saint André à son amie d’enfance Louise de Carnillac. Lettre du 21 février Ma belle et bonne amie Louise, vous ne douterez point du fait que vous me manquiez.  J'aurais aimé vous voir, le teint ravivé par le soleil  et le vent aussi léger qu'impétueux des contrées  méridionales.  N'ayant point quitté le gris du paysage belge ces  temps-ci, je m'aventure au loin dans mes pensées et  dans mes lectures.   Si le thème même du voyage pu me paraître presque  odieux il y a deux semaines, car je le mettais en  relation avec le départ du Comte B***, je suis plus  que curieuse de m'entendre raconter le désert et la  terre d'Algérie, comme un périple audacieux. C'est avec regret que je dois vous annoncer que nous  devrons remettre nos retrouvailles, car je ne fus...

"Let the beauty of what you love be what you do." Rumi   Hungary, on a  December  evening. It's saturday, I am working, this time in the Bela Bartok concert hall of the Budapest Palace of Arts. I've seen quite a few concerts halls already, but I can hardly find words to describe this architectural gem, feast for the eyes and delight for the ears. Everything here pays tribute to Art.  Whether you are seated on stage or in the audience, c olours , shapes , atmosphere aspire and reach to pure harmony. You can also be seated right behind the musicians, on a balcony, beneath this magnificent organ -  ninety-two stops, five manuals, 6804 pipes -  which building requested a three years joint effort of the GermanOrgelbau-Mulheisen, the Organ Building Manufacture Pecs, Gabor Zoboki, the leading architect of the Palace of Art, and numerous top-notch organists, musicians and acoustics specialists.  Here it is in images :   http://mupa.hu/en...