Reading IYE’s latest comment about his corner of France, I had just come from Xing three ladies Lucia, lida and Moosh (whom we know) … the first had posted:

Sometime back, lida had posted:

… and Moosh also puts out some evocative prints in a different style, but still with those highly evocative, melancholy undertones, the sense of solitary glimpses into something now far away.

I once found myself stepping out at night (or often during the day at some cafe) with a number of quite striking beauties, each an individual, and yet each with a certain melancholy … it immediately made me think of this Amon Duul song:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lonely_Woman_(composition)

Maybe cut the band some slack on the lyrics … French German band, singing in English.

… plus it reminded me of The Three Days of the Condor … that part where he “kidnaps” the girl back to her apartment, where she has similar art upon the walls … bare trees, unadorned. I hasten to add that these ladies were never “overdone”, never made up as “painted women”, flopping it all out … there was a certain unknowing mystery in there, even an austere style.

When I think of those days, comparing it to my “rugby playing bully” days, and again comparing it to our current Restore brutalism, in contrast to IYE’s evocative pen picture of France … I’m just grateful for the journey … quite some journey … even now, my longest known friend is pony trekking in Iceland and reporting on it … the weather is interesting, as it is with us.

The foremost issue of having been an “associate member” of various western scenes over the years is that one is never fully accepted by any. Certainly accepted personally but not seen as “one of them” … how could I be? Just now, I’ve been speaking with Toodles of a mutual friend near the gulf … so what comes out of it is this sort of westwide culture and yet strong national cultures within each … personally, I love that. It’s not constricting, not suffocating. It’s vibrant.

And us here, we unherdables … what a mix … yet all of us think of cultural purity. Go figure, as an American might say.