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slice of life in the house
sunday morning. early, too early for the kids. too early to be waken up by the saint matthew’s passion of bach. i can imagine them, putting their pillow over their face. but the music goes right to their ears.
sunday morning. early, too early for the kids. too early to be waken up by the saint matthew’s passion of bach. i can imagine them, putting their pillow over their face. but the music goes right to their ears.
they can’t fight against bach. he drives them back to sleep. in another dimension. sylva feeds the birds.
a dead chick for the hawk. the falcons will have to make a perfect flight to get their food. they know it. everyone here who has feathers or fur, understands sylva. that’s her gift. she deals better with animals than people. when she enters the hawk’s cage, it flies to land right on her head. the desert fox follows her everywhere she goes. with fidji, the west highland terrier. and the ducks. that’s the way it is here.
everyone has to get along. otherwise they would have to deal with sylva’s anger. and believe me… nobody wants that. sophocle, the parrot, opens its cage. it is time for a little port. a clock in its head, it knows that it is the exact moment when thierry will enter the kitchen, and gets himself a drink. he has spent three hours face to face with his computer, writing another book on music. listening to it to fulfil himself, to the point where nothing else touches him.
tomorrow, he will go to work, at the hospital, as a radiologist, but today he is free. free to give his time to his passion: bach, mozart, vivaldi and the others. sophocle has drunk half of thierry’s glass. its flight back to its cage is a bit hesitating. sylva turns off the cd player to put on the radio. it is time to get up the kids. it is time for me to enter the scene! sylva yells my name “elliot!”. opens the doors that lead to the staircase. and i just run. to the upper floor. a jump on a first bed. maud is about to scream. realises it is me, the english setter, gives me a paddle. and gets up. my first mission is accomplished. second room. second jump. here i stay.
gilles in his small bed always manages to give me some space. here we are. the birds fed. in the kitchen thierry and his two daughters maud, and alex just back from a second hand goods, discussing around a cup of coffee and a glass of port, while sylva prepares the meal. the desert fox having fun with fidji. gilles and i are going back to sleep. and the stabat mater of vivaldi giving this house a spirit that no one could ever take away …
fotos: thierry sauvage (kamera: lomo lubitel 166 universal)
text: alexandra benardeau
the house: la pigeonnière / blois
pool journal