P like Pyjamas
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P like (Pretty) dreams, (Petrifying) nightmares & Pyjamas.
P like (Pretty) dreams, (Petrifying) nightmares & Pyjamas.
I thought Google Map was my nightmare. Until I saw this. This is where I'm going. Soon. Maybe this is what keeps me awake. And thus it's not a nightmare. And I will be petrified. Hopefully.
©notAnneDeniau
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This is what I was dreaming of. Had to fight with my sister, she was afraid of coakroaches. That's the whole point : we need coakroaches. She sent a message today : "Done". This is where I'm going. Soon. Maybe this is what keeps me awake.
Maybe life is like an old pair of pyjamas.
Or maybe a dream is like an old pair of pyjamas :
No matter how many people did dare to sleep in them, they are still your dearest pyjays.
©notAnneDeniau
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Maybe I've been , for a while, entering the world of wabi-sabi.
Andrew Juniper claims, "if an object or expression can bring about, within us, a sense of serene melancholy and a spiritual longing, then that object could be said to be wabi-sabi." Richard R. Powell summarizes by saying "It (wabi-sabi) nurtures all that is authentic by acknowledging three simple realities: nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect."
Or maybe wabi-sabi has always been my world.
This one is a picture I made. Not in Japan, in Vietnam. A long, long time ago. Photographer was just a word, not my identity. This little boy in his pyjamas, 6 AM or so. Her mother gave me a coffee so black that I keep longing for that density of black. Anyway, the little boy. I was teaching him how to blow, and there he was, blowing in no wind.
Maybe the answer, my friend, is blowing somewhere, taking an unlasting, unfinished, imperfect form.
This is where I've been. Maybe this is what keeps me asleep.
© Anne Deniau, 1992.
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©notAnneDeniau
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This is what I was dreaming of. Had to fight with my sister, she was afraid of coakroaches. That's the whole point : we need coakroaches. She sent a message today : "Done". This is where I'm going. Soon. Maybe this is what keeps me awake.
Maybe life is like an old pair of pyjamas.
Or maybe a dream is like an old pair of pyjamas :
No matter how many people did dare to sleep in them, they are still your dearest pyjays.
©notAnneDeniau
•
Maybe I've been , for a while, entering the world of wabi-sabi.
Andrew Juniper claims, "if an object or expression can bring about, within us, a sense of serene melancholy and a spiritual longing, then that object could be said to be wabi-sabi." Richard R. Powell summarizes by saying "It (wabi-sabi) nurtures all that is authentic by acknowledging three simple realities: nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect."
Or maybe wabi-sabi has always been my world.
This one is a picture I made. Not in Japan, in Vietnam. A long, long time ago. Photographer was just a word, not my identity. This little boy in his pyjamas, 6 AM or so. Her mother gave me a coffee so black that I keep longing for that density of black. Anyway, the little boy. I was teaching him how to blow, and there he was, blowing in no wind.
Maybe the answer, my friend, is blowing somewhere, taking an unlasting, unfinished, imperfect form.
This is where I've been. Maybe this is what keeps me asleep.
© Anne Deniau, 1992.
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