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Mireille Balin

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(Monte-Carlo July 20, 1909 * - Paris, November 9, 1968)

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Painters, sculptors, historians, writers, testify: always women surpassed their peers in Attractions and justified the word Cocteau: "The privileges of beauty are enormous. But long ago, these privileges, favors attached to the perfection of a face, with a continuation, were confined to the dimensions of a yard, a circle, a medium. When they were not within the only lyricism of a poet celebrating his mistress.

photography, cinema, who revel in the feminine world, provide in abundance in our imaginary pictures of creatures that make credible the power lent to such favorite on the monarch, such courtesans driving their lover to ruin and suicide.

There is no "small" seductive. Of those that are described as "large", the accommodation is made immediately, while still unclear what surrounds them, other women included.

Each is a messenger that the species we delegate to remind us of the feminine hegemony. She is the bearer of sovereignty, since no claim is obvious, almost palpable, and we suffer with gratitude his tyranny. Because it's a whole panorama of the feminine, with its background, the seductress pretends to deploy our eyes when our friends are the best office of indentation in the real. Hence the edges of a photograph of the screen, which frames a "great" seductress seem cramped, and its image invaded the margins of a kind of wealth to be.

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Only certain players they come on the scene, they surround us with a satisfaction similar to that which gives us the chance encounter with a warm and familiar to the free amenity. Such actors immediately get us more attention, adherence to their lines, their behavior, as they fit correctly in space as they say, their reactions have a veracity that makes ease and the surrounding air, and silence the rustling of tissue paper qu'assemblent breaths assistance.

Thus women - many of whom become actresses - they have an innate presence compels our sensory system to how certain works of art we endow the soul. Like a painting, a sculpture, a monument, this is a musical chord and fertilization at a distance.

We knew the nature inexhaustible in its productions, it we will once again surprised by the vivid image that fills an expectation - of the order of nostalgia? - That we did not own, a man stuffed effigies.

is. For her, the world used, hirsute, will hand the damage we are causing it. For her, the alliances that we assume it, we just thought of everything on earth, still eludes the rapacity of man: the bird hovering below the horizon marine stratum umbrella of a cedar of Lebanon, the splay of the conch, whelk, the spar of the arum ...

She is even more alien than her sisters? It legitimizes the enthusiasm, gratitude, that we devote to them. It conjures everything that hurts our eyes and it touches them out of their distracted, the way of a pleasant surprise that we would be inconceivable. The word windfall from our lips before that which belongs to the rare, the fascinating.

We do not have the temerity to think she will distinguish us in the crowd of his subjects, it is enough that it accredits the myth of the goddesses, nymphs, Vestal , sirens, it is their incarnation, sculptural, but human. So vulnerable, which makes it close, moving to those who know that time goes on that face smooth as a laughingstock on a sea of young lady, and she will not be one day a shadow moving or static without more compact than a threadbare fabric. The most endangered are those who loudly proclaim, by the arrogance of their forms, the emphasis of their hair, the hemmed their lips parted, they are more than their sisters, promise, promise and expensive exquisite , indefinite, like the houris that the Koran promises the faithful.

There are men and the male is laudatory epithet. It is also among the "big" seductive women that females in the mouth, eyelashes, nostrils themselves, prefigure the major access road, as if sex admitted it without shame, and their flesh, falsely immediate, prompt appearing explicitly embrace, the ... deducted. An ounce of vulgarity for chili.

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For seductive luscious, creamy, an omen that we are sinking deeper into the flesh (and a sip of America Confectionery - meringues, religious, whipped cream, drizzled with a flute of champagne - was recognized in a pink fluffy named Marilyn), is it permissible to prefer the beauty closed, lock, a Louise Brook, helmeted fiber ebony, detached an Egyptian frieze, unless she was the sister of Queen Karomama, whose profile medal continuous incision space?

Is it lawful to grant, as the crowd of idols that went to represent the fullness of universality of the feminine, a preeminent place to Greta Garbo? I never think about it without seeing, in a snowy country, a beam of morning light through a fog bank. Then needed, as one would speak of the imposition of hands, which features notes of perfection the highest statuary - the grain of the skin with the polish of the Cycladic figurines in the likeness of Mother Earth.

We forget the body: we have eyes only for clarity in this nebulous web and beyond the face, making it in Queen Christina, the archetype figureheads.

Seduction can be challenging. He happens to be chaste. By light clean the Nordic countries - Calvinists - who seems to have modeled Garbo; by sexuality of it, ambiguous, held a ... "healthy exercise," the actress shows femininity unknowable, inaccessible. Until the love scenes where she shows enterprising, bold, she comes from a Noli Me Tangere which, combined with the solitude that is the nimbus extreme beauty, keeps us at a distance, brooding verse of Baudelaire: "I am beautiful, oh mortals, like a dream stone! "

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* 1911 is the date stated on numerous documents. 1909 would be the exact date.

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Whispers ...

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The love

I can, with you, dreaming of more commonplace since nothing ever is. And so I dream of a road island - without knowing what they are! In a room with walls lined with books of poetry, of those who cause thirst - a burning room.

I dream of a smooth time, indefinitely, to love with constancy.

I dream of being around you like a sleep between sun and shade. To be a stuffed ball on which you rest your hand.

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The lover

bulimia and I knew the frustration of the lover of museums here and those it does me more than anything: what gallery of paintings and sculptures grace overwhelm me like you do again? But I am advised that being convicted to attend beauty is a refined torture. Are we in his presence? She breathless, it constrains us. Engages she looks to others? A sense of dispossession, we grudge deaf comes. Present, absent, it is the thorn that reminds us of our dependence, we mean we do not know what exile.

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François Solesmes The Murmurs of love , Ink Navy.

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The tamarisk

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you do not plant a charm, a maple, birch, beech, to the ocean. The tamarisk is dealing with the enemy. Frequent prunings manage to do a bushy shrub, small tree counterfeit port lopsided, trunk swollen armpits that bristle multiple branches pruned. And we doubt, see the bark, that the olive tree is shown more surly towards the hand we denounce it as abuse suffered - twists and floggings conjugated harshness of an area to which the answer node and excoriation.

Who harassment and crate without respite, the tamarisk between the flexibility of its branches and twigs on a close-sheet scales - thus reducing the ship's sails in heavy weather. The tenacity can be seen in the foliage of the slender asparagus, which holds the drive sizes, and density, the intricacy of its ramifications, its disregard for symmetry, make it look thick.

Combining flair and stoicism, he resists the blast so massive that the acrimonious carpet, as this diagram, the filigree of foliage where you would see both a greenish cloud in the clip, the ferns who shrug our tile Winter.

The man is enslaved, the man disfigured: the tamarisk is not intended to stake walks of seaside resorts, but to settle on a flange of dune s 'y branching from the ground. Let curls, for one day inclement weather, away from one of these clumps, and we know a remarkable ease.

The savagery of the huge stumbling block on this bunch, trying to dissociate insinuates anxiety and discord. She is an assembly of precision balances which are contradictory - the branches balked by nodding disordered. And then, by the grace of long antennae plant, the migration of space appears to us in its power and size. At various speeds. At its lowest, the sparkling tremor bent grass, and then the mass gap without air, assured of its trajectory, with the four-lobed leaf of a bird that pitches in drift and above, a fraying Cloud earned by the velocity universal - all fleeing the sea as wildlife escaping desperate, a savanna fire.

But more poignant still delights await those who, by bad weather, at the request of tamarisk stand between him and the ocean. Which leaves would do better than his own, acts as a filter - the water hard and bitter hastened the broad, mutating to the cross in fresh water breaks? What was the breath of fire and attested to this field of flames at the foot of the dune is more than whispers of fire collapses. And it stands, in the invasion, an enclave of warmth and mildness where the immortal can finally enjoy its aroma.

me up, I'll be arrested again by the invisible and transformed into a torch. But for now, allow me to enjoy the miracle of a spring day that would have gone astray in January: in lukewarm reduced spared the vicissitudes of tunes, the kind of constriction of the flesh more turbid than j 'experiences, the tarnishing of my soul and his stubborn distraction, attached to the feeling of being unanimous in turmoil, in a place impregnable, irresistibly persuade me to morose delectation.

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panicaut The sea

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can have the acerbity gracile. Panicaut the sea, strongly branched, leaves and flowers floor skylight. So he does that little resistance to large wind - it scratches the passage. Because of the dune fresh eye, welcoming the palm which, breaking away from you, touches and flatters distance, rises the better the plant arranged to oppose the decision. Its leathery leaves are twitching to multiply the darts; inflorescence mimics, in miniature, the bug chestnut. Above the benignity of the sand, it brandishes the acrimony, it radiates resentment: that is the reckless showboating!

Yet as one who would find this plant looks ungracious about her. To admire the star of acuminate leaves, edged in white, upon which rests the capitulum. To enter a green money, as soon as panicaut occurs in the colony, it turns into light blue, ash, rising from a smooth sea, by the summer mornings.

I like to find in the dune flora, the marram grass, lilies, wild rye, immortal, without omitting or woolly hawkweed the talus, to remember those days when the ocean patient policy space equal to its rumor, muffled sighs when strung. But I appreciate the panicaut to testify for another face of the range: one where, in a climate of subversion unanimous, you put up a continuous volley of needles of ice. I also do not médirai it distributes with approval hostility.

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On silence III (continued from 15 October)

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Some quotes from Eugene Mersea *

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** Silence is for life , not to death.

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The music is more worthy than the words break the silence and more silence than words worthy of interrupting the music.

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If speech is, according Beigbeder, "an act which the individual is abolished," silence is the failure to act where the individual is affirmed.

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Silence is the sound that is transparent to light.

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Silence is the cornerstone of the building sound.

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is with stones the silence which erected the temple of music.

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The music is created out of silence spreads through him to finally get lost in it, where everything begins and ends.

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Silence propagates in waves, like light and the movements of passion.

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Prelude Air Lohengrin The elevation of the Missa Solemnis , reach the borders of silence ideal.

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Words fly away, the silence remains.

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Moment of silence Moment of Truth. Man needs speech to conceal his thoughts.

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Silence prepares the appointment of the heart and mind.

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Silence heals the wounds of the word.

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Nothing is more impressive than the silence of the major organs in a deserted cathedral.

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******* * * Born in 1911, died in the 1980s, he said "a nonviolent passionate, loyal, since his youth, the libertarian tradition.

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Whispers ...

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Love:

I'm breathless, broken, in great distress: I love you! Give me time to catch my breath, accept to bear the happiness of love .

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The lover:

I changed? Yes, like sap, effervescent spring becomes, by composing with light, phloem sap, rich in minerals which will nourish the plant.

As the river a little crazy, turbulent, upstream becomes a river - large by definition, assured of his drive and purpose.

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François Solesmes, The Whispers of Love, Ink Navy .

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