Jean-Louis Bouzou – Text Bubbles

Last night, I dreamed of a world where the heart had won a total victory over the ego... The world's leaders were no longer narcissistic, arrogant, and bellicose monsters seeking the interests of their own caste, but humble, upright, and benevolent beings, dedicated to making their people as happy as possible. To achieve this, they bombarded one another with bombs and cluster missiles filled with gifts, seeds, and water, in order to sow happiness and color across the globe... And then, the alarm clock rang...

I long dreamed you would be my spring, chasing away—through the colors of your desire—the vast, intense monochrome winter in which I wandered… But it was I, becoming my own enchanted season, filled with the sap of “I am,” “thank you,” and “I love,” who made new leaves of multicolored joy sprout upon the bare branches of my days, melting the snow of the past…

No one can know whether the world is fantastic or real, nor whether there is any difference between dreaming and living. Jorge Luis Borges   One morning, I had received a visit from the Morgans. During the evening we had spent with Liam, I had given them my address so that they could come and collect the painting of Mullaghmore’s coast that they had so admired when we met. Eleanor was radiant at the thought of returning to Los Angeles, Jim much less so; he had truly grown attached to the lands of his ancestors, and to Liam too, I think; the days they had spent together, roaming the country, fishing, and haunting pubs, had forged a bond between the two men, and I understood how he felt at that moment. Since I had shown them around the place, or rather the tenant’s place, they had seen in my room the canvas of Assaroe Abbey’s mill and had bought that too. I was over the moon. style="text-align: justify;">On the pavement outside the house, after exchanging our cont...

At a time when numbers inhabit and caress my days, when smiles and gratitude expand my very being, when a web of pleasurable thrills settles beneath my skin, I wonder if you will have the courage to murder your pride and your fears, to tear through your shadow and let your vibrant colors emerge...   Excerpt from the collection: "Silently"...

Gratitude is the wellspring of Providence…

I was riding a great white horse, galloping across the ocean toward the continent, under the storm, in the night. Behind me, Liam was holding on to my shoulders. The sea spray and heavy rain soaked us from head to toe. The roar of the wind, the rain, and the waves was so loud that I couldn’t make out what Liam was shouting to me. At one point, he turned my head with both hands, and I saw a fire on a beach near a cliff. I changed direction and rode toward it. As we got closer to the shore, I could make out two figures near the fire, and then I heard Liam scream. Slowing down as we arrived, I felt his hands leave my shoulders. He jumped off the horse and ran toward two young women wearing hooded coats, whose faces I couldn’t distinguish despite the campfire’s glow. The one on the left turned and started walking toward a hollow carved into the cliff behind her. She hesitated, then stepped inside—and was immediately trapped as roots grew over the entrance, weaving into a grid that kept h...

To grow fat by reducing waste — freeganism.