Jean-Louis Bouzou – Text Bubbles

A month already that I had been working on this canvas. I had no one to blame but myself. I—the impressionist, the fauvist, the color enthusiast—had challenged myself: “I bet you’re not capable of painting realistically.” “Well, game on, I can do it,” my alter ego had replied, always loving a challenge. So, I got to work. I had decided to paint a portrait of a woman reading. To do this, I asked Sophie, one of my childhood friends and neighbors, to pose for me. * Tiny and cute, a brunette with azure eyes, Sophie is always dressed to the nines; her cheerful and playful nature charms more than a few... What I appreciate most about her is her energy, so much so that when we were kids, I dubbed her “Jack-in-the-Box”—which earned me, more than once, the painful red imprint of her hand on my cheek. Yes, between her and me, it’s a lovely story that goes back to early childhood. We’ve always been very close and see each other often; I can’t go to the market without running into her, as she ru...

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...

To grow fat by reducing waste — freeganism.

Last night, I found myself on a snow-covered forest path. Once again, I was struck with wonder at what I experienced. My body lay warm and still, far away — a hot water bottle between my legs, buried under blankets, drifting through the night — while I, in another form, laughed at the chill, delighted by that enchanting Christmas scene. Like a child, I scooped up snow, shaping it into balls and sending them flying into the glittering white silence. And as always, when happiness finds me, I long to share it with you. So I called out, hoping you’d appear in that lucid reverie… but you did not. Perhaps it was for the best — for had you arrived, you’d have been buried beneath an avalanche of snowballs, transformed at once into my dream snowwoman.