
Sometimes, it cleanses the soul to talk to oneself... This reminds me of an ancient Oriental myth of confining secrets to a hole dug in a tree... Will you find treasure there? I doubt it... IL DEPEND DE CELUI QUI PASSE QUE JE SOIS TOMBE OU TRESOR QUE JE PARLE OU ME TAISE CECI NE TIENT QU'A TOI AMI N'ENTRE PAS SANS DESIR Palais de Chaillot - Paris
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
I'm In The Mood For Love
I'm no Fellini, but I think that this peacock of mine is better than his. I know a place where I can find a large population of peacock. In the mornings, they are most active. In Fellini's Amarcord, he showed a very poetic scene of a lone peacock amidst the falling snow flakes. Yesterday, my recorded version of an Indian peacock was quite less poetic, but more down to earth. He was in love, or, should I say, he was in lust. The peahen he was after did respond with her own gesture, which remains mysterious to me. But this is a sad story, and my peacock was heart broken. I am trying to come up with a theory to explain away the failure of his conquest. I must have been the culprit, trying to be very indiscreet interfering in their romantic moment. One interpretation of her gesture could be "Hey, there's a guy watching and trying to blog us... Are you nuts?" After she walked away, he was pretty mad at me... he said a few unpleasant and loud words to me and tried to provoke a fight. I knew better and backed down, knowing that you can't win battling a guy who is now very po'ed at you. Sorry... I'll leave you alone the next time, but I need first to save money to buy a telephoto lens and some camouflage peahen outfits.

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