Christmas's coming

Have a Merry Christmas

fishes z'and co

I don't know what to write and I haven't taken so many pictures. I won't be loquacious today, if I've ever been loquacious.

Italians markets are fun. I mean, the one which is near my building is fun. You can find there anything you want. Like a supermarket along a street. People have their own stand in bricks and mortar where they sell their stuff.

A view on Tiber river, and you see the floatting houses.

Next extinctions

Do not forget the un-mediatised...

Arctic ices

to see how fast should desappear the Arctic seas' ice cap, wait a little bit, just the time to download it :

two weekends' pictures

Some photos ...sun rising above houses, in front of Vittorio Emanuelle's bridge

arriving to Circo Massimo

back to my house, Via Candia is now illuminated.

Last sunday, I was waiting for the washing-machine to clean my clothes ; I've been to Piazza San Pietro so. It was 12 noon, and the pope was doing a briefing of his recent visit in Turkey, from the uppest window of his appartments. There were lots of people though. Some of them had banners, like this one "L'Immacolata vincerà" : the Immaculate will beat. I didn't know the Virgen had thi sking of ideas...The times they are a changin'

Some groupies were there too, young girls, screaming at the pope at the end of the Pater Noster... I went back to my clothes.

I enjoyed this sunday going to Piazza Navonna, plaza where street's artist perform. This time, sheds had been built up for a sort of funfair : some of them sold food, others MadeinChina's handcraft stuff, others cups : some strange cups, though, with the face of Mussolini, the Italian dictator during WWII.

Piazza Navonna, by day by night

This week-end, unsorted

on top of a hill, surrounded by goat's dropping (maybe sheeps)

Walking to the observatory's hill

from it..

Antarctica

Walking back after work, I cross il Campo de' Fiori (literally the flowers' field) where is the market. Around 6:30pm, once dustmen have cleaned it, the pavement is still wet and slippery. One needs to walk on it as one walks on ice : puting the foot flat on the ice and lifting it pushing onto the sole, keeping the weight in the center of the foot, right under the shinbone. Above all avoiding to push on the tiptoe because it would risk to displace your support and cause your fall. I'm playing at dreaming up I'm walking on a lake of black ice.
I'm walking on a lake, the wind comes and caress my face, it's not cold yet. People going by are like a mist which wraps me, brushing me without destabilizing me, an uprising fog or clouds going down to cover the plains. The icy stretch of my lake is getting smaller and smaller ; already, water it's not solid anymore, it leaves the ice and flows in its bed. I jump on more secure rocks. Cars are streams which splach me with their exhaust gaz, grumbling as a river in flood. My rocks bring me to the middle of the street ; I just have enough time to jump off of it and the rectangular pebbles of the zebra crossing are carried away by the flow.
The ridge of the sidewalk becomes the line of a snowdrift : on the left side, to the south-west, the gentle slope of the névé brings me into the mist, on the other side, on the north face, the snowdrift crumbles above the emptiness. Cars become squalls which brush me and almost make me fall. The wind is now cold, I'm walking gently on this layer of snow become ice. I'm thinking at white stretches of Antarctica where the sun doesn't set down anymore.
This summer again, American earthwork contractors are building up a road to reach the South pole. They are going to colonise some of the last parts of Earth that almost nobody has walked on it. This part of Earth we are not adapted to live on. Why do American people always need to do such things?...
Erratum, the project since has been signed by signers of the Antarctic Traity, so France. Stupid Frenchies...

ciao

yvan

http://www.asoc.org/media/11.27.04.Stuff.Hillary.htm

http://subs.nzherald.co.nz/location/story.cfm?l_id=2&objectid=10384923

Week-end (sorryI'mlateTHEEND)

So, there is some other Roman stuff

From the end of Via Nazionale, the Vatican was already into dusk. Something wonderful : those school of birds, as school of fishes, were turning and turning again in the sky, shining and dark. There were making monsters walking above the city, and diving into its guts, ephemeral fireworks' clouds vanishing in a split second. Italo Calvino, a Roman author describes it better than me though, in "Palomar".

I spent my sunday looking for letters.

Whenever you come to Rome, you need to visit this museum. It's an extract of black humor. Piazza del Popolo, almost at dusk.

That's all folks

ciao

yvan

Week-end (sorryI'mlateCONTINUATION)

I still can't publish pictures...

Week-end (sorryI'mlate)

This week-end, the last one, not this next one, has been quiet. No demonstrations to disturb Rome's streets, I've just been reading my Italian book I've eventually finished.

Saturday

Piazza San Pietro, I meet a brass band. Unfortunaitely, I'm too late to be able to hear them. They looked professional, I mean, more than our banda, in Toulouse.
I walked then into the left bank, to visit it : there are so many streets I don't know, I lost myself each time : that's more difficult than walking into a bush, kiwi or French... And there are people, walking somewhere, car and scooters rolling somewhere else. Would be funny if streets where moving also.
I was looking for some good place where to finish my book. I chose a park, a guy was playing trumpet. Nevertheless not well enough, I've been able to hear some false notes. It was good though : on my bench warmed by a hot sun's ray, I was on this beach the autor describes, climbing into the boat and feeling the movements of waves.




I don't know what to say...my life in Rome is not very active. I think about things, but I forget my thoughts, once I want to type them on my keyboard... Oh, yeah, I bought a pullover.
There some pictures of Roman stuff.

fucking Blogger! I can't publish pictures...