it speaks to me when I hurt,
and seethes at me when I work,
piles on the day glowing through the dirt
and melts away the underlay of Nemisis

calling when a clue is sought from frosts at dawn
elusive as the sun searching the ground through pines,
abundant is the dawn chorus which awakened my first post,
as the last post never ends for those that never saw

laughing at what might have been, and what was
in the wades of our summer loving
falling over you, into you, for you, ...with you...
was to come one with THE one

sharing when all hope is lost in the flicker of early autumn winds
a shuddering beat from september's lost heat,
ensuring the clearest of big skies can succumb to the sea,
as my greatest feelings come from the music within me。

Music: Portishead: Dummy
Reading: Matthew Parris: A Castle in Spain, (extract)

show it to me, now, come on, please,
and I'll show you mine also,
it's the only time, now or never,
so please, never say never,
because I'll say it,
never again

My French Grandmother now finds herself stuck for the remainder of her life in a large, brash nursing home, and her house, which was filled with thousands of memories, the family meeting place, annual summer home, my teenage years were spent there, and the chime of a 1930's clock ringing forevermore in my mind.
Grandfather died a year ago, and it destroyed my Grandmother who now cannot recognise any of us. It has in turn, hurt my mother more than she'll ever show. To travel from Norwich to France, visit your mother and be told, by her, (my grandmother to my mother), "who are you?" is very, very hard. To see her face crumbling with realisation was torturous. If a family means anything, it'll be felt deep in the heart.
The remaining days were spent with the dispersal of her 'effects' (I loathe this word now), and thus honouring her wishes. Seeing such familiar items as a beehive-shaped honey pot, some nesquick breakfast bowls, a pastis bottle-top measuring piece...each bring back countless stories, crystal clear memories, perfect snapshots, relatives departed, and the roots in France, weakened and exposed.
I could look at my Grandmother's photo only the once. The vision is as strong as any.
'Lauren6' is in honour of my departed relatives...they live on, and so do I, for now, with love.

Music: Jam & Spoon ft Plavka: Kaleidoscope Skies
PiL: Public Image
Zazie: Zen, Au Diable nos Adieux, J'envoie Valser.

Les troubadours, les malandrins.me suivent de près.quand je vais dans la salle de bain.les canaris et les serinsm'envient ce doux bruit.que je fais le matin...les troubadours le savent bien.qu'importe l'humeur.toutes les heures.sonnent bien.ils sont pas sourds comme les voisins.qui pensent que je déménage.que je vais pas bien.qui veulent que je déménage.parait qu'c'est pour mon bien...je chante la la la.sur tous les airs.et sur tous les tons.tu n'es pas là là là.et y a guère.que l'écho qui répond.et j'ai le la bémol.plaqué au sol...depuis j'attends le jour.où, l'air de rien.tu viendras me faire.de la mousse dans le bain.tu sais que les mots d'amour.ça s'entend de loin.comme les scènes de ménage.et les bêtes en cage.comme les bruits de casserole.et les rossignols...ça fait des la la lasur tous les airs.et sur tous les tons.tu n'es pas là là là.et y a guère.que l'écho qui répond.je chante la la la.des notes en l'air.et des sanglots longs.tu n'es plus là là là.et la sirène.se change en poisson...et j'ai le la bémol.plaqué au solet j'ai le la mineur.plaqué au cœur

-Zazie, La La La