Thursday, May 08, 2008


To The City Inside Me From The City I'm In

Me, today, greeting my PDP pals in Paris (and elsewhere around the globe)

In the springtime . . . In the fall . . . In the summer when it sizzles . . . In the winter when it drizzles . . . Every moment . . . Every moment of the year . . .

Cole Porter (I Love Paris)

Musique du Jour: Yann Tierson, Amelie (Soundtrack)

Charlie And The Kindness Of Madame Panckoucke

Etienne Carjat - Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867)

I remember very clearly that the lady was dressed in velvet and fur. After a while, she said: 'Here's a little boy I want to give something so he'll remember me.' She took me by the hand, and we passed through several rooms. Then she opened the door of a chamber in which an extraordinary and magical sight presented itself to the eye. The walls were so covered in toys that they could not be seen. The ceiling had disappeared under a flowering of playthings which hung like miraculous stalactites. The floor scarcely offered a narrow path on which to place one's feet. It was a whole world of toys of every sort, from the most expensive to the humblest, from the simplest to the most complex.

'Here,' she said, 'is the children's treasure-trove. I have a small allowance to spend on them, and when a nice little boy comes to see me, I bring him here so that when he leaves he can take away some memory of me. Choose one.'

With that wonderful, clear-sighted spontaneity characteristic of children, in whom desire, thought and deed might be said to form part of one and the same function, by which they distinguish themselves from degenerate men, who, by contrast, find nearly all their time devoured by deliberation, I immediately took hold of the finest, dearest, brightest, newest, and most bizarre of all the toys. My Mother exclaimed at my indiscretion, and obstinately opposed my taking it away with me. She wanted me to be happy with an infinitely inferior object. But I could not agree, and, in order to settle everything, I resigned myself to a juste-milieu.

I have often conceived a desire to know all the 'nice little boys' who, having lived now through a large part of this cruel life, have long been handling other things than toys, and who once in carefree childhood drew a souvenir from Mme Panckoucke's treasure-trove.

Charles Baudelaire

Pentimento I

Loretta Lux (b. 1969) - The Drummer, 2004

Children do not give up their innate imagination, curiosity, dreaminess easily. You have to love them to get them to do that.

R. D. Laing

Replay IV

The Ghosts of Innocence

Loretta Lux (b. 1969) - Girl with Marbles, 2005

I use children as a metaphor for a lost paradise.

Loretta Lux

Childhood: the period of human life intermediate between the idiocy of infancy and the folly of youth - two removes from the sin of manhood and three from the remorse of age.

Ambrose Bierce

I'd give all the wealth that years have piled,
The slow result of Life's decay,
To be once more a little child
For one bright summer day.

Lewis Carroll

Childhood is not only the childhood we really had but also the impressions we formed of it in our adolescence and maturity. That is why childhood seems so long. Probably every period of life is multiplied by our reflections in the next.

Cesare Pavese

Childhood has no forebodings; but then, it is soothed by no memories of outlived sorrow.

George Eliot

Addendum XIII

When I Was One

Me, 1963

My mother loved children. She would have given anything if I had been one.

Groucho Marx

Coda IV

Always the Villain

Me as the chief "baddie" in our junior school play, 1970