I’ve got a dongle.
Actually, I’m not sure what it’s called, but it’s a blinky thing that plugs into one of my USB ports and connects me to Livebox. It makes me happy. I’m wireless for all intents and purposes. Now I can move upstairs as soon as The Frenchman has time to switch desks with me.
The upstairs is definitely more haunted than the lower. Upstairs is where someone shot an intruder in the yard from the window during The Resistance. I picked out the window immediately when I arrived. Last night, I woke up at exactly midnight, and then again at exactly 6:00am. It was still dark at the later hour. I felt the presence of two additional people in the room: one woman maybe in her 40s and a younger woman in her early teens (maybe a tad younger). The older woman was standing closer to my bed and I sensed a deep curiosity. And for the first time ever, I didn’t mind. In fact, I wondered after I woke up if they weren’t brought out by the intense BDSM scene we’d done the day before, where The Frenchman was bound up almost completely.
This morning I went into town with The Frenchman and saw the Cezanne exhibit, which is like visually licking a Godsicle. However, what was more amazing than the Cezanne exhibit, I thought, was the Jean-Marie Sorgue exhibit. It’s a pity they didn’t let us have our cameras, because I can’t find on the Web any examples of his work. He draws these nightmarish walls and alien vegetation in black ink. Occasionally he uses a soft violet highlight. He’s not a Barlowe, Giger or Fuchs, but his work is disturbing nonetheless.
After the exhibit, I had a chance to roam Aix on my own before lunch. As advertised, Aix has about a gillion fountains. Not all of them are functioning, but even the ancient ones are beautiful in their own broke-ass way. I’ll post photos when I have a chance to upload them all. I took as many photos as possible before my camera started making gestures that it needed the fainting couch. I wandered almost everywhere except uptown (my feet were just too sore) and then had lunch with The Frenchman at a local pizzeria. Complete with merguez, an egg and real Greek olives, the pizza was called “L’Orientale.” Salade pour moi prochaine fois! It was much too heavy.
After lunch, I took the bus home by myself for the first time. Oh, if only you could see what my walk back is like! Almost ten minutes down a dirt path until I see the back of Barberude with no one but the butterflies and dust to keep me company…
This won’t be pretty in winter, but I’m enjoying it now.
I came home and wrote a bit before The Frenchman came home. I’ll be able to work more on OUT OF BODY tomorrow, too, as I have almost the entire day free.
So far, so incredible.