playing games...

shadow games...

while waiting at train stations

with the little detours in life.

susanne. et moi.

being playfully silly.

once a little while ago.

saturday morning... coffee in hand.

And above all watch,

with glittering eyes the whole world around you

because the greatest secrets

are always hidden in the most unlikely places.

Those who don't believe in magic will never find it.

- Roald Dahl -

good morning...

saturday morning.

and i just wanted to write a word or two

and say hello,

with my cup of coffee in hand.


oh. there's so much i've been wanting to babble on about.

random thoughts. of this and that and this again.


i've wanted to write about gaylene.

and about secret garden parties.

i've wanted to write about wonderfully lazy sundays

swimming in the quarry, sleeping in the sun.

i've wanted to write about magical summer nights

and the lovely cécile

and about purgings. sifting thru the little things.

making room for the bigger things.

and sometimes we go thru purgings of the mind

and the heart

and not just dresser drawers.


and i still never told my story of paris

at the feet of lions and the wedding ring.


or of the beautiful anna netrebko with a pretty flower ring.


but maybe those are things i'll get caught up on yet.

or simply write about other precious moments as they come along

and come to life.


in a sweet way,

i like to think that every day holds and shares its precious moment.


and so i find myself with a smile with each new day

and the wonder of wondering.

because its the surprise of the unexpected,

the good unexpected moments

that i love best.


open arms. open eyes. and an open heart.

ready to simply embrace

life. and love.


and susan is on her way over for a few days...

a wonderful friend that i can embrace tomorrow night.

and that too leaves a smile on my face!


anyhow...

saturday morning.

and i just wanted to write a word or two

and say hello,

with my cup of coffee in hand.

sir nicholas henderson...

Sir Nicholas Henderson

1 April 1919 – 16 March 2009

"Henderson was a toweringly handsome man of enormous charm and affections.

His throwaway manner disguised a rapier-sharp mind.

He was a Scarlet Pimpernel among ambassadors,

a romantic hero with an extraordinary quality of coolness.

Nothing ruffled his good-humoured urbanity,

his glamorous, deeply English style."

The Guardian

photograph taken on an august day.

once upon a time. in london. the café rouge.

every now and then, you meet strangers along the way.

you speak, without the use of language.

simply an understanding,

a knowing smile.

a mutual sympathy.


and that was my moment

of having met

sir nicholas henderson.


over the years,

this is a photograph that i have treasured

that always brought a quiet smile upon my face.

and with each and every time i looked back at this photo,

i found myself remembering.

and seeing that moment. being in that moment

once again.


we were sitting in the café rouge. knightsbridge.

claudia and i were slowly on our way back to the airport,

after a weekend together for one of our

"let's meet in the middle of the world" weekends.


and there was such an energy in the place,

the energy of all the people and all the strangers.

and it was a good energy.

it felt like there were so many stories wanting to be told

if you just took a moment to look. to watch.

and in that sense,

to listen

with eyes. and with heart.

it's when you listen not to what you simply hear,

but to what you feel.


and i needed to capture a few of these moments,

these listenings and these feelings.

i needed to. and i wanted to.


and that's when this man walked in

and took place just a few tables away.

an older man. a gentleman.

he had such a grace about him. an elegance.

something so striking and so intriguing.

there was something friendly. and sincere.

something genuine.

his presence was something gentle.

and even with the years his face held or the white of his hair,

there was something boyish about him. almost playful.

and i could sense, there were so many stories he could tell

and so many stories he could share.

and i had this longing to listen.

to be taken on a little journey with the stories.


there are times i can be timid with the camera.

unsure and uncertain if i'm allowed to invite myself into a moment

that doesn't belong to me.

respect. boundaries.


but on this particular day,

i think there was a courage. or many just an intuition.

or simply something you emanate. radiate.

and the world opens its doors to you.

it opens its eyes to you.

and its heart.


i still remember that moment that i took the camera in the hand,

i know i had a smile on my face.,

and i know that i didn't look thru the lens,

but i simply held the camera. and i simply looked at him.


and that's when i realised,

he allowed me to watch. he allowed me to wonder.

he allowed me into his moment.

and he had a smile on his face too.


i felt i had to speak with him,

simply to let him know,

that this wasn't just a photograph taken

for the sake of a photograph,

but rather because i was captivated,

and because i felt there was such an aura about him.

and i told him, i would like to send him this photograph too.


he smiled at me again,

shook my hand and said he was fascinated as well.

the way i looked at him with sincerity and a curiousity.

and that he could tell i was someone that took life and people

and that what surrounds me,

with a sensitivity and an awareness.

and that is a rare virtue. something to be valued.

and then he said,

"hello. my name is nicholas."


he asked me if i had a piece of paper and a pen.

i went back to the table to get my purse

and pulled out a book.

i always have a book.

to simply write thoughts. write moments.

to write little manifestations throughout the day.

and then he wrote down his name. his address.

and he smiled again and said

"i look forward to seeing that photograph."


at that moment, i only took a quick glance

at the letters and the words he had written.

i thanked him and wished him a wonderful day.


it wasn't until i got home that evening that i pulled out my book.

sir nicholas henderson.

that was his name.


i think i felt a bit more of the familiarity in that moment.

and of course i had to google.

oh for the love of google.


and that's when i found another smile on my face.


as a child growing up,

i was fortunate enough to have teachers that left their impact on my life.

grade two and mrs. moritz. she was one of those teachers.

she taught me about honesty. integrity.

and awoke an interest in politics.

i think it was in grade two

that i fell in love with pierre elliot trudeau.

and to this day,

i find him to be one of the most passionate and powerful,

literally liberating politicians there ever was.

he too had a grace. an elegance. and yet his unconventionality.

and always his red rose that he wore on his lapel.

and although i was in grade six

when the falkland islands crisis came to be,

it was something that i followed and was so very aware of.

it made me question more about politics, about relations.

and i remember going back to mrs. moritz

and holding conversations.

wanting to learn. wanting to understand.

pretty heavy when you're in grade six

and everything else that really mattered those days,

was who was the most favourite girl in the class

or playing joan jett and the black hearts again and again and again.

or falling in love with simon le bon.

i was eleven and hello. welcome puberty. and growing breasts.

or reading judy blume books.

does anyone remember "ralph"?

and then there was the falkland islands.

and to this day,

i base many of my own personal thoughts and theories

of a very strange british and american political relationship

and what i consider,

apparent silent vows to back then.

yes. rewind time. 1982. the falkland islands.


and that's when i realised,

i knew the name.

sir nicholas henderson.

he built relations. and he built ships.

and then he built bridges.

relationship bridges.


it's been a while since i held this photograph in my hand.

it's been a while since i held that piece of paper in my hand.

and tonight for some reason,

i had to pull it out of a box

and out of a frame.


and then i suddenly had a regret.

because i never sent that photograph after all.


so maybe what i want to say,

is thank you for that smile.

and thank you for that moment.

simply because...


every now and then, you meet strangers along the way.

you speak, without the use of language.

simply an understanding,

a knowing smile.

a mutual sympathy.


but they make a difference

and they become a part of your life.

and the stories you write in your life.

and the stories you share in your life.

sir nicholas henderson.

reminding the self....

reminding... the self.

once again.

the miracle is you.

oh how i adore this woman...

lovingly known as sark!

how to be really alive!

live juicy. stamp out conformity.

stay in bed all day. dream of gypsy

wagons. find snails making love.

develop an astounding appetite for books.

drink sunsets. draw out your feelings.

amaze yourself. be ridiculous. stop

woryying. now. if not now, then when?

make yes your favourite word. marry

yourself. dry your clothes in the sun.

eat mangoes naked. keep toys in the

bathtub. spin yourself dizzy. hang

upside down. follow a child. celebrate

an old person. send a love letter to your

self. be advanced. try endearing. invent

new ways to love. transform negatives.

delight someone. wear pajamas to a

drive in movie. allow yourself to feel

rich withouth money. be who you truly

are and the money will follow. believe

in everything. you are always on

your way to a miracle.

the miracle is you.

cherry trees...

seeing clearly.

illuminations. of light

the katrin sessions.

today.

i walked thru the garden

and picked my first cherries from the tree.

it felt like that first taste of sweet.

i simply stood there,

reaching out and reaching up...

and what was it that pablo neruda once said?

"i want to do with you

what spring does with cherry trees..."

and i found a smile on my face.

today, it felt like there was magic in the garden.

and magic in the day.

i saw my first rose that came to bloom.

augusta louisa.

with her orange and peach and pink.

and it's just a day or two,

and then my peonies,

will hold their promise too.

i saw the first shades of lavender,

and the shy white purity of my jasmine.

with each and every day,

it feels like its all promising something new.

you know,

life amazes me at times.

simply, the little things...

like a garden in spring.

and cherry trees.'

and what amazed you today?

what made you fall into that glorious wonder of wonder?

capturing light...

glimpses of saturday morning

and the katrin sessions.

capturing light, as it falls thru a window

upon realms of the aura of beauty.

there was much that i wanted to write today.

simply little ramblings of thoughts. happenings.

things that make me smile these days.

and maybe even those things,

that carry themselves heavy on the heart.


but i've come to suddenly notice,

that sunday has almost come to past

and it's leaving me content with just the quiet

and the still of the night.


so instead, i'll simply and quietly share a photograph or two

from the katrin sessions. yesterday.

and i'll slip outside with a glass of wine,

sit on the steps and feel the soft hushed wind and gentle fall of rain,

gaze a little at the skies

and maybe see a star light, star bright,

to make my wish come true tonight.

and i'll open my arms and open my heart to a new day

and a new week.

and hope she's good and wonderful for all of us.

thailand. and back again.

sacred. and mystical.

ancient stories carved

in the pasts of yesterdays and tomorrows.

and this is where we stand now.

just a quick note to say hello.

and i'm home again.


i arrived back from thailand

late last week.

and i still feel as though i'm caught

in the wonderful blur,

of being in two places.

moments along the maps

of here and there.


it was simply a time

to take a deep breath.

inhale and exhale.

and in the same sense,

be absolutely overwhelmed.

with wonder.

with the wonder of colour. and sounds and smells.

or the wonder of contradictions.

cultural contradictions.

the wonder of pulsating streets.

and then the wonder of solitude

watching the morning sun as she rises.

or the wonder of midnight hours

lying under stars with the lull of the sea.

it was about a hand filled with white sea shells

and a heart filled with the momentum of life.


yes. i'm home again...

in the wonderful blur,

of being in two places.

moments along the maps

of here and there.

taking that daring chance...

From 3rd to 17th April 2009,
the artMbassy Gallery in Berlin will be showing the "Best Of"
from the Fashion Photography Contest on Hair,
"New to the Eye", by Sebastian Professional.

Around 130 creative people from across the globe
sent in more than 1.100 photographs.
A selection of the best (about 50 exhibits)
will be on display at the exhibition.
After its premiere in Berlin, the collection will be on tour.
Exhibitions are planned for Frankfurt, Vienna and Zürich.


(excerpts from Sebastian Professional Press Release)

back in december,

isabelle had asked me if i could do a few photographs

for her at the salon.

simply for a project that she has in mind,

showing women and men of different faces, generations,

different colours, different cuts.

the idea was to show personalities

and the beauty that each has in themselves,

while still keeping the story on hair. and style.

it was a good day. it was a wonderful day.

we laughed together. we talked together.

and to be honest,

i believe that for a few of the women, even the men,

it was almost like an unveiling.

as though seeing themselves in a different light

or from a different perspective.

photography is about telling stories,

but in a language that requires no words.

photography is about capturing an essence,

and a moment in time.

it's about documenting. and it's about reflecting.

and maybe it's a cliché,

but it's not just about seeing with the eye,

but also seeing with the heart.

anyhow,

isabelle then came up with the idea,

that we should send in the one or other photograph

for the "new to the eye" competition from sebastian.

i was a bit hesitant.

sebastian has some of the best hair and style photography out there.

avantgarde at its finest.

provocative. evocative.

and although i was pleased with the photographs,

i just didn't think that i could be parred with that.

and i didn't think that i could stand a chance.

but isabelle didn't let easy.

and close to the very last minute,

i sent in two of the photographs taken that day.

so now it's my turn to say...

thank you for being so god damn stubborn with me my dear bella.

and thank you for being a "best of" in my own life...

because we made it!

we're a part of the exhibit. a part of the collection.

we're a part of "new to the eye".

and i like to think that the magic we stirred in those girls,

was the magic they stirred in us.

you see.

it's all about reflecting. reflections.

and taking a chance.

about taking that daring chance...

waiting for spring...

waiting for spring...

as she blossoms.

quietly. slowly.

passionately.

this glorious promise she keeps.

and as she awakes.

and restlessly playfully stirs...

you feel and you see

her open arms. and her open heart.

hello again.

it's a been a while.

a long long while...

but like with a good friend,

you simply start off where you left off.

and it's as though not a day,

not a week nor a month has passed.

or maybe it's like spring.

one day you simply wake up,

and you know she's there.

you might not see her just quite yet,

but you feel her.

and you catch yourself with a smile.

knowing that in her own way,

she was there all along.

------------

sunday. sweet sunday.

that's what today was.

it was about spending the morning in pyjamas and with cups of coffee,

sitting around the kitchen table with a friend.

it was about getting dressed in my favourite flowered skirt,

a jean jacket and a scarf with a pair of rubber boots

and saying hello to the garden.

it was about pruning roses for the first time in my life.

and it was about the smile on my face,

simply to see that they survived the winter. and me.

(do i dare admit, i think i broke every gardening rule

there ever was to break...)

it was about planting white peonies

and digging in the dirt with bare hands

and about pulling out the weeds. one by one.

it was about grabbing another cup of coffee and sitting on the steps,

simply content and thinking just how good things can be.

and beside me on these steps, was my pot of heather.

my pot of irish heather.

and i took it in my hands, just to take a closer look,

and i so had to think of jacinta.

she brought me that heather last september.

as a little gift from her cooley mountains.

she placed it in my hands and told me,

i need to plant this, to always remember how strong i am,

to remember how real my dreams are,

and what it is that lives inside me

and what it is that i have to do.

jacinta. she simply has something magical about herself.

something wise, but something so beautifully magical.

and i was just sitting there, holding that pot of heather in my hands

and remembering what she said.

i suddenly received a text message

simply saying

"ange, i just so had to think of you right now.

i've been thinking of you a lot these past few days,

wondering how you are...

but suddenly, that thought was stronger than ever

and i wanted to let you know.

it feels like spring here in ireland today,

it's lovely and i'm going into the garden.

so strange, because it's almost as though you're here.

love, jacinta"

i was at a loss words. and i couldn't help but smile.

never ever tell me, that thoughts can't travel,

and that thoughts can't be felt.

over time. over space.

it's the power we have.

and it's moments like this, that simply remind us.

there's more to tell about the sunday. and about life.

but for now,

it's time to find my way to blankets and bed.

and simply say good night.

waiting for spring...

words. chapters of a year...

words. thoughts. fragments of words and thoughts.

that were spoken. and written.

in the days and weeks and months

of a year gone by.

these become our chapters. and our stories.

in this wonderful things we call,

our book of life.


and seeing words splashed on a collage like this,

makes me realise how wonderful language is.

how beautiful language is.

it's expression. communication.

and even when written rather than spoken,

it's voice. it's signature.

of the self.

simply reflections of the self.

each word we allow to cross our lips

to come from our minds or our hearts

is a reflection of the self.


-----------------------

i've been meaning and wanting to write for days now.

capture thoughts and moments

and maybe even to manifest what the new year is to be.

but for now,

i'll simply share these words.

sweet. simple. words.

of the days and weeks and months

of a year gone by.


ps.

thank you tam...

for giving me and showing me my wordle words.

blowing you a kiss. just for that.

and just for you being you.

home sweet home.

heart. beats.

snow. snow. snow.

well. that's it now.

in about an hour

there'll be a taxi

taking me to a train station

that'll be taking me to the aeroport.

there's always this sensation about leaving.

about travelling. setting on a journey.

and i can't find the words for it right now.

but it's there. this sensation.

my suitcase is already downstairs.

just a few things that still need to be packed.

i'm still sitting here with a cup of coffee

and pyjamie bottoms.

and it's very early morning.

four o'clock early morning.

and it feels like the whole world is fast asleep

with just the hush of quiet around me.

mom's already warned me that it's cold.

and i think over the years i've forgotten

what minus twenty five degrees of cold can be.

i suppose it's time to remember again.

but i can't wait to see the snow.

to see the city with all her christmas lights.

to sleep in my old bed. in my old room.

or just to hear the way

mom putters thru the house

doing her thing.

or dad sits at the kitchen table with the paper

humming along to a song.

and it's when you hear those sounds,

that's when you know you're home.

home sweet home.

la lune. i like simply calling her la lune...

for all the ways in which we embrace each and every day.

and for the wonderful way we smile at the world

and the way the world smiles back with us.

and as she too, smiled and laughed...

all she simply said was...

omondieu!

she smiled and laughed and said...

omondieu!

sunday night and i'm tired.

simply and wonderfully tired.

in fact, i almost think i'm even too tired to write.

but i'll try.and simply spill a word or two before me

before i crawl into the warm comfort of blankets and pillows

and say good night for the day.


and i'm asking myself, why it is,

that weekends always come and go so quick?


saturday morning meant being up bright and early,

had an appointment with isabelle at the salon

just for a wee trim and shape and a bit of colour...

i thought.

sat there with my cup of coffee

and then isabelle spoke the words

saying we're going short.

and i think i went speechless for a moment.

needless to say,

pageboy bobbish kind of short.

and it's absolutely sweet if i can even say that myself.


and it wasn't until around noon that i found my way out

into the hustle and bustle of the streets

with all attempts at christmas. and shopping.

but it's been a while since i've been in lahr,

or simply even had the time to wander,

so it was less about taking care of gifts and presents,

and more about running into friends and faces

and taking time for coffee. at the bistro.

i managed to get a few things done

but had to be at isabelle's for three.

coffee. cake. champagne.

with the girls.

we just wanted to spend a bit of time together before i leave.

and to be honest,

it still really hasn't sunk in yet that tuesday's the day

and i'll be singing...

"so kiss me and smile for me

tell me that you'll wait for me

hold me like you'll never let me go.

cause i'm leaving on a jet plane

don't know when i'll be back again..."

and i'll be on my way home.


anyhow. a lovely afternoon with the girls.

with my bella. dani and susan too.


and on my way driving home,

a few of the things that made me smile were

of stopping at the gas station

and the cashier smiling and saying,

i haven't seen you in a while.

and me coming to think,

yeah, that's right. i haven't been here in a while.

and smiling back.

and then he gave me chocolate. yummy yummy chocolate.

simply saying,

here, have this on your way home.

at times, i swear it's the simplest and sweetest things

that make the difference.

and then, it was about driving home and following

the path and trace of a voluptious full moon

shining. bigger and brighter than life.

and on the radio they were playing the cure.

and that had me singing along with an even bigger smile...

"Show me how you do that trick

The one that makes me scream" she said

"The one that makes me laugh" she said

And threw her arms around my neck

"Show me how you do it

And I promise you,

I promise that I'll run away with you."

and god i love that song. and those words.

i think that's why it had to be written over here

and just for the way, it's a part of what life and love is meant to be.


anyhow, i still needed to get myself to the cité,

just to pick up another gift or two

but i was also supposed to be meeting up with fausto for a drink as well.

so is this the time and place i confess that i was running just a wee bit late

once again?

yes. angie. typical angie.

but i do my best.


and that was saturday.


today meant getting up early again

and heading to the office.

there's simply so much i still need to get done.

and that deadline, i have to admit again,

it does have me a bit worried.

i know everyone will be fine.

and i know everything will work out just as well.

but still.

it's the adrenaline. and the anticipation.

everytime this part of a new catalogue draws near.

and just because it matters so much. and means the world to me.


i left the office around four o'clock

and off to oberkirch i was to meet up with simone.

and how wonderful it was to see her.

we talked and talked and talked.

about what's all been and what all should be.

about men. about work. about ideas.

and simply about life.

i think we could have talked all night.


and she was simply the most wonderful inspiration.

but also the most wonderful confirmation. and motivation.


she wanted a femme heureuse shirt as well

so i had brought that along.

and she slipped into it right away.

shite. damn. silly me.

we should have taken a photograph

because trust me when i say,

she looked marvelous, absolutely marvelous in that shirt.

and that shirt looked marvelous, absolutely marvelous on her.


she has a few meetings and interviews coming up as well,

so she said there's no doubt in her mind with what she'll be wearing.

femme heureuse. that's what it's all about.

living and being. femme heureuse.


and then, driving home again,

there she was.

that moon. that beautiful and glorious moon.

i had to stop. and i had to pull off on to the side of the road.

step out and go for a walk. and have a cigarette.

and it felt like all i could do

was look at that moon. that beautiful and glorious moon.

(yes. i had quit. and back on the verge of quitting.

but every now and then. and for moments like this.

there's a time and there's a place. and a cigarette.)

and then i carried on.

driving.

and then i heard a voice i hadn't heard in a long while.

maybe an intentional long while.

but i heard his voice. speaking. on the radio.

and i had to catch my breath. hold my breath.

and remind myself.

femme heureuse. femme heureuse.

and let it go.

that voice. that thought. and the feeling of him.


and now it's sunday night,

and a chilly cold december's sunday night.

on the floor there's a suitcase almost packed.

on the table there's a glass of pinot noir at my side

and three candles burning for advent.

and looking thru my window,

there she is again.

that moon. that beautiful and glorious moon.


la lune. i like simply calling her la lune.

of smiles and laughter. and paper hearts...

a saturday.

of cutting paper hearts.

and playing with a camera.

of drinking much too much coffee.

and girls at work are girls at play.

these are the katrin sessions.

katrin came over today.

one of my sweetest dear girls at the office.

and we were on a bit of a mission.

the both of us. the camera. and a bit of omondieu!


i don't know how many photographs we took.

a hundred wouldn't nearly say enough.

but going thru them tonight

put back the smiles and the laughs that we had all day.


it felt so good to be with the camera again.

sometimes i had felt as though i had lost a bit of the vision,

and lost a bit of the language.

yes, i believe we speak a language with what we see,

with what we capture and what we share.

a language that is spoken quietly. and needs no words.

but the photo session last weekend

and then the session today,

it all felt familiar. like an old friend.

that came to embrace you again.


granted, the camera didn't always do what i wanted it to do,

and a grey december day

didn't leave me with the light i wanted neither.

but there were so many laughs. and so many smiles.

and yes. coffee. coffee. and more coffee.


i'm happy with these photographs.

these photographs of today.


and i think the whole day was about laughter.

it was about good things. sweet things.

it was about women. and it was about friends.


it was about the photographs and the talks with katrin.

and in the midsts of that,

a phone call from the salon

giving me a list of the shirts they sold

and of shirts that need to be ordered.

and i don't think i need to say,

that phone call left me with yet another smile.

there were freshly baked cookies placed on the doorstep,

(for which i'm trying my hardest not to eat all at once.)

and then there was isabelle coming over for dinner.

we drove into town to go to le bistro

because we wanted mussels, mussels, mussels.

and a good glass of wine.

isabelle and i both reckoned,

life must be a wonderful thing,

when the most difficult decision of the moment,

is deciding whether it's a chardonnay or a grauer burgunder.

needless to say, the grauer burgunder it was.

but even dinner was full of smiles and laughs.

we had talks of the heart

and those things that matter most,

but we also laughed and laughed and laughed.

so many little stories and incidences

that simply made us laugh.

(and there goes isabelle's dress... once again.)

and i honestly can't remember the last time

i laughed and smiled as much as i did today.


after dinner, we simply went for a walk

thru the christmas market.

a magical thing. and a beautiful thing.

the smells. of spices. and chocolate. and roasting chestnuts.

the people. the christmas lights. and the merry go round.

at first we thought we'd warm ourselves up with a cup of mulled wine,

but then we thought we'd do things our way,

and a glass of champagne it was.


and afterwards we came back home.

to put on a pot of tea,

of chamomile and rose and lavender.

we lit the fire and curled ourselves up on the couch

talking. talking. simply talking

until once again it was late at night.


and that makes me realise again,

how thankful and grateful i am

for my girls. my dear and wonderful girls.

and with even the distance

and the road between us since i moved away,

they still always manage to find their way.


and now i just wanted to go thru some of the photographs,

and reflect on the day. and share upon the day.

as i say good night to this day.


a saturday.

of smiles and laughter.

and cutting paper hearts.