Pretty girls

When I was living in UK, I was often amazed by the prettiness of those topless girls on the page 3 of newspapers like the Sun,  by the perfection of their boobs, of their skin, their angel face.

I could not really see a difference between them all.

If I would have been a man, any of those women would have been Christmas for me.
I do not feel attracted with women but I can admire their beauty even if on my side it is not sexual which I regret. To be bisexual might be great, to be able to warm up with a woman, to forget about men with a woman, to not always have to count on guys might be really pleasant.

However, as heterosexual, I can count only on a man to make me forget about another man. And it is like an endless circle as men are men. You always wish to have found someone different but at the end a man is man, and you have to deal with it.

I am exploring a new country and in this country I find so many women incredibly pretty. I could not tell the difference between this one or this one between all those beauties. They all have very long beautiful hair, beautiful face, beautiful legs, beautiful smile.
I could not tell the difference between them all. They are all the same to me, representing grace and sensuality.

On an other hand, I did not notice one single man for his special beauty or seduction. So I had not been really tempted. The only one I met, might have tried a little to make a step on my side, but I did not take the opportunity as he was married.

But if I would be a man, how many women would have tried to seduce during those last 3 weeks? How many would I have maybe succeeded to bed? How could I have not become a little disturbed?

Men are unfaithful because so many women are beautiful.
And the worse is that those girls are often as beautiful inside as outside. Being romantic, sensitive, easily hurt, easily attached, easily emotional, easily possessive and jealous, as so easily dependant on the man they fall in love with so easily. Women are from Venus, beauty and love.

On the opposite those men from Mars, are warriors. Had always been warriors for thousands of years. Having to defend their tribes, their families, having to hunt, having to kill, having to be tough to survive on the battle fields, having always to dominate their fears, to control their desire, tempers.
Now they are often just stuck on some violent video games. They are lost.
Their ability to fight is often badly seen.
Even if not a long time ago, and still today in some countries, a fighter could save your life (or destroy it).

So here I am. Not understanding how men could possibly be faithful especially when they have 10 times more testosterone than women. A woman level of testosterone the hormone of sexual desire and aggressiveness climb at a maximum of 300 when it is 3000 for a young man. On the top women have female hormones that men don’t have at all. Those female hormones influence on their mood, making them so emotional and sensitive.

You will tell me about  this or this woman being interested in money, security, etc.

I do not deny that those women exist but I never meet them.

I had a dog 3 years ago, I loved that dog. He was important in my life. He was my little companion following me everywhere, sharing my days, my travels, in a little blue bag that he enjoyed so much. At that time, I could take the plane 3 times a day with him, and he would always be happy, in a good mood, relax. Satisfied to share my life. Loving the different hotel rooms. And easily bored when we would stay too long in the same place. I hated to have to leave him behind me, however I was always lucky to find loving people to take good care of him. When he died he was already 8 years old so he might have been dead today anyway.

When I had to leave my dog somewhere, the paid people in charge or my devoted friends volunteering to help me, would always tell me how much my dog would miss me.

I always answered them, Oh no, my dog is like my lovers, pathologically unfaithful. My dog will forget about me quickly, will jump happily on someone else knees, will show as much love for any nice stranger than for myself.

And it was true. My dog would forget about me so easily that some people in charge assumed that I was not treating him well. I do not think it was the case. My dog was an easy catch. He loved easily. Jumping joyfully on any postman passing by.

Some dogs bite, mine was just crazy happy for any new face he could meet on his way. Some people do have depressed dogs, dependant on them and only on them, having only one master. Never had this kind of dogs. My dogs had always been over extravert with total strangers.

However when my dog died, he came to visit me instantly, explaining me about his death, sending me all his love. Nobody had informed me about his death. I did not know why he was coming to visit me, assumed it was an extra body experience.

I nearly took him in my arms, nearly cuddled him, and cried, asking him to forgive me to have left him at this place, promessing him to come back urgently as he was sending me freaky images that I could not understand clearly and in the same time sending me all his joyful tenderness, he seemed so happy to see me again, to be able to visit me. I told him how much I loved him and missed him.

When I had been informed that he passed away that same night he visited me,  I realized how much my dog had always been faithful to me, had always loved me, much deeper than I thought and that at least I was important to him.

To be followed maybe or maybe not as my ideas on the topic are pretty confused.


I don’t know exactly why but this little girl from Irak popped in my mind after having read this article a last time.

I was visiting her parents two years ago, her father had been Captain in the army of Saddam Hussein which has nothing to do with the subject but well, it was the case, could not believe such a sweet man could have had this kind of activities in his past, mystery of life.

She was lovely and was around 6 years old. Her father was my landlord and so she was my little neighbour, living in the same building.

Since the very first time I came in her house, she would tell me; I love you, I love you

It was really weird as later on I would bring her some games and toys but at that time, I really did not know her at all.

So I asked her, kidding her a little; but how can you love so much somebody you do not know at all, maybe I am not so nice after all.

She looked at me as if I was a total moron, and answered me back coldly; I always love beautiful people.

Well I do not pretend to be beautiful for real, but in her eyes I guess I was.

And  maybe it is what it is all about at the end.

We  easily love beautiful people.

The big bad wolf

Written on my Facebook page the 8th of July 2014.

Was not sure about this article, but at the end, I put it.


Little Red Riding Hood Costume For Adults

I forgot about the sex bomb of the 6th of June last year (cf blog)

The sex bomb trapped me tonight with a job proposal.

When I saw him, I could not believe it even if I guessed it somehow somewhere in my subconscious mind.

Instead of going to the appointement, I made him come.

So he took a funicular and the boat, to join me.
I thought to myself, this is weird this boss accepting to take the boat but well.

I spent the entire evening resisting to the big bad wolf.
A nightmare on a certain point of view.
Good for my ego on the other hand.

We drunk a beer, and I walked him back to the boat as chaste as a veiled nun.
Not even a kiss.

The government or the church, whatever, should give sometimes some gold medals, rewards, even money why not, hotel rooms paid, free meals at the restaurants, to the women like me, having enough morality in their life to resist to happy married men.

I would ask for a little cruise, or at least a hammam and a massage. Hairdresser. Spa.
I would deserve a little present in a perfect world.
The society always blames the mistresses but does not reward the women putting married men back on their tracks.
Resisting to them.

For god’s sake. I deserve something tonight.

1969 the erotic year, but what else?

Written from the 25th of April until the 16 h of May 2014


When the harems were existing, or when men could have a few wives (they still can today in some countries), they were responsible for their wives who were not making money, so they paid for the house, for the food, and contraception was  usually forbidden so they had to take care of a lot of kids as well.

At that time, religion was very powerful, so oral sex and any kind of sexual fantasies were forbidden not only in the Muslim world but in the Christian world too.

The purpose of sex was procreation. The women quite often forced into marriage without the power to choose their husband or to take time to know him before, were helped by the religions to avoid any kind of sexual performances, too demanding for a girl not really in love, having to marry at a very young age, sometimes a very old man.

In exchange for this responsibility to take care of a woman and her children entirely, men were asking their wife for faithfulness, to not have to raise other men’s children mainly. There were no DNA tests.

In a time where contraception, medical tests for sexual diseases and antibiotics were not existing, women were asked to be virgin before the marriage and sometimes in some religions (christianity) men as well were asked to be virgin and still are today in some part of the world (some orthodox Christians in Egypt for example, where a lot of men stay virgin until 30 years old even today, until they find a wife or some Muslims too).

To avoid sexual diseases,  for a good health inside the couple, and children’s safety, it was the best option, the virginity for both men and women, and faithfulness between husband and wife.

I have to say that my grand parents who were protestant, living in Switzerland, married being both virgin a little less than one hundred years ago, stayed faithful to each others all their lives, and were the happiest couple I have met.

It was at that time the normality in the Western world. For both of them as well, masturbation was a sin and they would forbid their children to practise it, checking the smell on their hands at night in bed. It was called, the bad habit. Not a long time before, if some women were masturbating, it was considered as a hysterical behavior and the clitoris could be cut off. Orgasm was considered as a weird kind of epileptic convulsion and was badly perceived in Europe.

In some African countries not even 50 years ago and maybe less,  it was a shame for a woman to show any kind of sexual pleasure during the sexual act with her husband. She had to stay straight and silent and her clitoris would often have been cut off to help in the process.

However some women seem to be able to feel some pleasure without a clitoris and some women with a clitoris can have difficulties enjoying the moment. Nevertheless, the goal for cutting off the clitoris is to keep the girl virgin and calm before and after the marriage.

Nowadays, contraception, medical treatments, tests, have brought with them, more freedom for women, more freedom for men as well. More freedom in the couple. Sexual majority had been voted in a lot of countries giving the right to young people to date even with adults without the parents having the right to forbid them anything related to their intimacy and allowing sexual exploration for teenagers.

In 1968 in France, starting in Amsterdam, young people took the power in society, refusing to be ruled by the elder,  asking for freedom and in the same time for more laicity (kind of secularism).

Rock and roll, the hippy movement, the creation of airlines companies and reasonable flight tickets, made them exploring the world and other religions with a special attraction for vegetarianism, yoga, tantra, shamanism, some new drugs like LSD (cocaine and morphine were allowed in the 19th centuries, example Sherlock Holmes so it was in fact nothing new), buddhism, new ways of thinking, etc.

In the same time through the developement of psychology, an innovative path for understanding ourselves and others emerged.  The biggest step was made in the sexual field. When the religions were forbidding masturbation, psychology and psychiatrists, on the contrary, sometimes encouraged it, or at least stop forbidding it. Sexuality became about exploration, understanding, and pushing the boundaries. (Jung and Freud, my favor movie 2011)

Homosexuality became better accepted but it was the case 2000 years ago when most of the Roman emperors were married with a man and a woman.  And for example in North America, the native Indians, not such a long time ago, were asking young boys to choose their sexual identity at 6 years old. The tribe would not make any fuss, if he would choose to be a little girl, a winkte; a two-souls person. The winktes were in a certain way married to some hetero men of the tribe, who could marry women and winktes.

Anthropology, sociology  helped on their side for this global exploration plus all the medias; libraries, movies, documentaries, television, and internet at the end of the last century.

One hundred years ago, in Europe, if a woman wished to not get married, she was taking risks. To become an artist, she was taking risks. Camille Claudel, a very famous French woman sculptor was sent to the mental health asylum by her very famous brother writer, We still have the letters she wrote during those endless years, and we can see how clever and well-balanced she was. A woman who was not willing to obey to the society in France, was sent to the convent or to the mental asylum.  Camille Claudel died on 19 October 1943, after having lived 30 years in the asylum.

However as weird as it can seem, during my first trip in Saudi Arabia in 2010, I was astonished by my mixed feelings. Women could be stoned,  could be lashed. Last November 2013, a teacher was lashed at the University, 80 times, in front of her students, to not have accepted her husband’s second wife and to have started a light fight with her. The husband reacted strangely by taking back his first wife and breaking up with the future second spouse after his first wife had been lashed in public.

But even with all the terrible difficulties that Saudi women have to face, I was surprised to see myself nostalgic and thinking about what the Western women had lost.

Saudi women are more protected than Western women in a lot of aspects of their lives, they are considered as fragile little creatures, in need of their father or brothers’ protections, they are considered as sacred, their children too, and could count on the strong support of their mother, grand mothers, huge family to help them being respected in the society.

A nostalgia came over me, a weird one, observing those Saudi women, being in a certain way my ancestors, and the last trace of a certain way to be a woman. A way that seemed to have been lost for ever for a lot of women in the world.

Suddenly I started to think about my women friends in Europe, United States, Canada, and instead of thinking of them, as lucky, I started to think of them, as girls having to cope with a huge amount of stress in their life, for a lot of different reasons.

I was raised in France, and there the sexual majority (age of consent) had been decided at 15 years old like in all Europe nearly. 13 in Spain. 14 in Germany and Canada. 16 in UK and Switzerland.

I was sexually mature around eleven years and half. Was in love with a 20 years old I was meeting sometimes, I do not see the difference between me at that time and me today except I was much more passionate and sexual than I am today.

So for me those 3 years waiting for the sexual majority seemed endless.

This young man never kissed me, but the fact he did not have the right to do it, did not help in the process of course.

Even today sometimes,  I think that if I could have married him at 11 years old, I might have been the happiest girl in town and completely mature enough for it.

To be married to someone you find repulsive or to be raped, forced, is awful at any age, even at 80 years old.  Even if it can be more damaging at 11 years old.

I know a lot of women, for example in Europe who are living alone. For myself I love living alone, to live as a couple, I did it, and was faithful, 5 years here, two years there, etc. has always been difficult for me. I like the silence, my loneliness, and inside a couple you lose very fast this wonderful eroticism that you can share so well when you meet from time to time.

When you do not see each other too much, the routine does not affect your erotic bond. But as soon as you share life on a daily basis, the quality time is affected by the mediocrity of our existence.

I am not frustrated because the men I lived with always wanted to commit more, but I know so many women, who had long-term relations with a man, being in love, faithful, waiting for him to be ready to get married, to have kids, and who are just at over 40 years old too old for this, or too fragile, taking sleeping pills, Prozac, and suffering a lot from loneliness. No parents, no brothers, no sisters to protect them. They are supposed to be strong, to make money, and to live by themselves, they are supposed to find a man who wants to marry them by themselves. But where? In nightclubs? By dressing up sexy? Is it really the best way to find a husband? On internet? On dating site? Where most of the men search for casual sex and have sometimes so many mistresses they can’t even count them.

The worse is this duty to perform on a sexual level, to be judged all the time. It is tough for women but for men as well. Not all men have a big dick and even if they have a big dick, do they really want to be loved for their big dick? When soon or later, they might lose their erection anyway.

Not everyone is good in bed. Not everyone feels Ok being judged on a sexual level; He is a good shot, she is hot, she is not hot, he has a small one. It can be exhausting.


3 years ago, for the first time in my life, I asked my brother to host me, it was one month there, two months here. For myself, I know that to have my brother staying in my house, would be one of the best present life could give me, and he could stay one year without me noticing, I helped him enough on my side to feel comfortable asking for a little help in return and I was really feeling happy about this opportunity to spend more time with him as I was living abroad. But to stay in my brother’s house even if he is single was not an option at all. It was not a big deal, but if I would be a conservative Muslim woman so my family would be there for me until I die.  In the Western world, brothers and sisters for most of them barely know each others, meet once a year and sometimes less than this and even for most of them, do not appreciate each others, being like strangers.

Same if I would be a mother, I could certainly go and live with my kids in a Muslim country. Something that is completely nearly impossible in the Western World when most of the mothers, grand mothers, are rarely visited, put in retirement houses, have no power in the family, even if they had been devoted mothers, grand mothers.

There is no respect for the elders right now in the Western world.

When on the other hand in Saudi, I was amazed to see how the grand mothers and mothers could have a huge power inside the families. All being highly respected. Those women have no right or very little rights on the paper but in real life, they do have sometimes more rights than a Western woman.

Of course some Saudi women are struggling, are heavily unhappy, but I could not say  it is the majority far from it. The unhappy women I met in Saudi were the ladies maids from abroad but it is another topic. And not for all of them either. Some are lucky, some are not.

I am the first generation of women, since women exist on earth to be able to travel by myself, to work by myself, to marry or not, to commit or not, to have lovers or not, to have kids or not.

Of course it is not that simple, as there is a destiny. Sometimes, the person you would like to share your life with, is not on the same vibration, or not at the same time as you. So the fact to be single or not single, is not all the time 100% a personal decision.

But however, a lot of women are single, do not have kids, not only in the Western world, sometimes in the Arabic world too. As long as it is their personal choice, it is fine.

For my part, I feel lucky with my life. Even if sometimes, I have the feeling, we do not control our lives, what we can control a little is the way we accept or not the events in our life. The way we decide to keep the joy and our ability to love and be loved, to just honor life and what has been given to us. To just accept our existence.

So 1969, erotic year, yes. In France. But nearly 50 years after, things are still not that simple.

The sexual liberation, the art of taming freedom, is sometimes a difficulty, a challenge and women can be left very lonely, facing depression as emotional, sensitive human beings, in need of protection, something the sexual freedom often does not offer.

In Canada for example, you can get an abortion without scheduling it, very easily for 300 dollars. I met a girl who lived for 3 years with her boyfriend. They were both looking like models in their early twenties. This girl was against the pills, he was against condoms. So they went in the natural way, means she opted for an abortion a year. To be aborted from the child of a man you are deeply in love can be incredibly violent.

In some Muslim countries and elsewhere as well, to have sex with her, he would have had first to get married and could not have refused the child.

What I found violent was that the abortion was completely perceived as not a big deal, when I could see how this girl and even this man, were mentally destroyed by this freedom that had been given to them, to act as they wanted, without the parents or grand parents in their life to put any kind of  boundaries.

For myself at a young age, I was living in a couple already, and did not wish to have kids or to get married, and was taking  contraception, happy to have it. But my partner seemed traumatized when I left him, telling me he planned to get married with me. Which surprised me as I did not plan it at all on my side. Happy to have my freedom back and to explore the world. I was faithful to him and he was not as much as me, so I did not feel guilty to leave the situation. But still even now, he tells me that he suffered so much from the separation, that it was hell for him to recover, he married shortly after this and is still married today for a long time now.

So yes, we do live our freedom, but the heart is there, and the heart is the heart, and the soul is the soul, and we are at the end all very fragile.

Sometimes this new freedom, we just do not know how to handle it.

And the loneliness that can come along as well, we do not know so well how to handle it. As we do not know how to handle a life without the traditional conservative religions, that had been created to protect us, to give us some boundaries.

Before antibiotics were discovered, sexual diseases were perceived as Satan as it was giving so much sufferings in exchange of a little pleasure, it was not curable, and is still  not in a lot of countries.

One hundred years ago, the cause of death for one woman on 2 in Europe was linked to pregnancy.

It could explain why in the classic literature, sex and death is so often linked, why the characters are so serious and taking love so seriously. At that time love was a serious matter.

And why it seems lighter today. Even if at the end, thousands of years of life experience, cannot be erased from our DNA so fast and for this reason, love will be an important and sacred topic and sexuality too for a long time, even if very soon to have kids will no more be linked to sexuality. But it is another new adventure of the human beings that I will not write about now.

The silence treatment by men; a good idea?




21th of April 2014, Spring time I am French mother tongue so do not hesitate to send me your corrections. Much thanks.


I found by chance this image BOY GIRL on the web this morning and it made me think a little. For me it is obvious that the girl is being pragmatic and certainly close to a reality. I identify with her completely.

It made me think as well about another topic sometimes connected to this one.

When a man is angry, it can happen he will react by cutting off or remaining completely silent.

When he cuts off, the woman in most of the cases thinks he is just having fun with another girl and forgetting about her, so she does the same on her side, she will search for someone to warm her up, to give her confidence, to cuddle her especially if she does not wish to be resentful but generous and altruist with him. She will just go on with her life, far away from any kind of bitterness and for this the best way is to have fun as well on her own. As most of the women even the not pretty ones, she might have some men queuing up for her, she will not have to search very far away to be cuddled. Instead of refusing the proposals, she might be tempted to let go and to pick up the nicest man around her, the one deserving her to give him a chance at least.

Sometimes hopefully, after a few months or years, there is an explanation being given by the first lover for the break up;  it can happen the man had cut off because he was jealous or upset for a reason. The woman in reaction feels humiliated that he had all his bad feelings inside him without telling her and in most of the cases, it is too late because she is with someone else, someone good who does not make her suffer so she will keep this person in her life, and will not come back or at least not like before.

With my first boy friend, when I was a teenager, this problem happened.

He came to pick me up at school, and started to make fun at the way I was dressed up, was nasty, did not kiss me as nicely as usual. So I just assumed he was fed up with me and had found another girl friend. He never told me he loved me, was introvert, and 3 years older than me, so I was feeling all the time childish compare to the girls in his class room who were beautiful.

So, we did not see each others during months, but for NYE, so more than 6 months after our break up we slapped each others in a party and fought like crazy. He had said that I was a slut in front of me and other people, but the thing is I was a virgin and he was the first man I ever kissed so I could not be a slut… And we went on with our relation again but without talking about our first break up at all, it was kind of taboo between us, our dark period. Maybe I did not want to know about it. About why and what he did or not.

After having slapped each others, he invited me for a slow dance and we kissed again, our cheeks all red and burning.

Our relation was Ok but not great during those 6 coming months. The magic of our beginnings had gone away. I was bored and of course successful with other young men, as I was a teenager, and so the competition was tough for him but he did not seem to notice. He was introvert, secretive, and well not really what I had wished for. He told me he loved me, but I did not answer back, because I still had in mind those 6 months when we broke up and for me the explanation was that he went out with another girl, with whom he could have sex, older than me, so I did not tell him back that I was in love with him, I was still resentful.

At the end, after 6 months and half , I kissed someone else. I was on holidays, as usual he had not called me for weeks, did not come with me as usual.

My friend was a Capricorn in astrology, he was borned during NYE, and they have the reputation to be sometimes cold and introvert but faithful and deep, a winter sign. I kissed an Aries… Who are all fire and passion, I never experienced it before, did not know what it was, A man all fire and passion. It was like being in Greenland and suddenly being sent in the middle of the Rio Carnival.

It was great, exactly what I needed. I was struggling in my family life with my divorcing parents, I really needed fun in my love life to change my mind. And so the Capricorn came to join me on holidays at the end, in the South of France and surprised me kissing the Aries…

I did not cheat on him, because when he came back, I could not kiss him, or being touched anymore, it was over, I was in love with someone else but it was the first time I was cheating on someone, so I did not know it was over, I assumed I was just changing my mind, only when he came back and I had to stop seeing the Aries, only at that moment, I understood it was not possible.

We had an explanation and as well about our break up the first time.

I understood why he had been so nasty when he came to pick me up at school more than one year before, and why he had said that I was a slut during  the last NYE.

The Capricorn had a best friend being very nice with me but I was not attracted with him. I don’t think it was only because the Capricorn was handsome and his best friend not as much. It was deeper than that.

My first boy friend had a sadness in him, a kind of silence in himself, I found attractive. He had lost his father at a young age, if I remember his father was climbing a mountain and had an accident, but I am not sure, I know his father was an Alpinist. He lost his father at 2 years old, if I remember well and had been raised by a step father who was nice but I guess his mother had a sadness in herself that never really left her.

The Capricorn was rude with me the first time I met him.
He was a difficult case, not the type of man to bring you flowers and poetry for sure.

When I kissed him, it broke my best girl friend’s heart who was secretly in love with him and it broke as well his best friend’s heart who was secretly in love with me. Maybe I exaggerate, maybe they were just upset, but well, our happiness did not bring happiness to our closest friends.

Four months after our first kiss, his best friend invited me to go to the movie, I accepted as I knew he was a little lonely. We went to the movie, talked, had a coffee or a tea somewhere, and he drove me back home.

Nothing happened. I could not refuse his best friend to go to the movie, because I met them both in the same time, we were part of the same gang of friends, and I knew it would make him happy if I would accept and sad if I would have refused. So with my good heart I accepted. It was 100% friendly.

What I did not know was that his best friend made him believe later on that I had kissed him during the movie, or something like that. Or he imagined it all by himself.

Knowing that one year later, I felt so incredibly angry after both of them. His best friend to never have told me, to never have tried to make us being together again. To never have repaired his mess. And after him, for his dirty thoughts in his head, so little respect for me, to have such a dirty image of me. I felt disgusted he never asked me anything before breaking up with me.

So to cut off for a man is not really the solution, the silence is not the solution, because as this text Boy-Girl shows quite well most of the women are paranoid, always imagine other girls around, and if they have done nothing wrong, will never imagine the man is angry after them.

I don’t know how many times a man cut off with me because he was mad at me for something after this first break up when I was a teenager. But I guess it happened again without me even today knowing about it.

Another option of the story is:

A man does not call back a woman, or answer any mail because of other reasons like; hesitation, a mistress, needs time to think. Logically the woman assumes the relation is over, tries to be warmed up by someone else, and at that time, the man comes back and starts to be upset because she dated someone else during the time he was away.

Well it is very selfish of him. He should be happy for her she found someone else to warm her up, when him on his side was certainly having some fun or at least some heavy hesitations. He should be altruist, generous. Not to mention the case when the man would have openly explained her he was in love with someone else…

To come back months later with some regrets and to be mad at her because she would have tried on her own to find some happiness, would be pretty childish.

So well, this BOY-GIRL board opens a lot of topics of conversations and in my case some memories.



The Art of simplicity

7th of January 2014

When my mother died, she was 55 years old, when the police called me to tell me that they found her body on a boat, all rotten, all black, and gave me all the details, I had been waiting next to the telephone for more than twelve hours, the all night, the all morning, the police called during the lunchtime, around 12.

A few weeks before, I had a terrible flue, a terrible fever, at that time I was living with a boyfriend, and he would come back every two hours in our studio to change my clothes, as I was too weak to change my clothes all wet by the fever by myself.

Last time I met my mother, she brought me flowers, but I could not really talk with her because of the fever. She told me good-bye, I could not really have any kind of energy for her, I was feeling so sick. She left a few days later to spend time in the South of France, by herself on a sailing boat, a little one, but she was not sailing, she was just going to stay on the harbor, relaxing, going to the beach. It was in August.

For a period of 10 days, I was seeing her all rotten, all black, at that time the mobile phone did not exist yet, so I could not call her, I was thinking of warning La capitainerie, to ask the master’s office of the harbour, to check on her, but did not dare to do it. I could smell her body nearly, it was stinking, it was terrible, she was all black, all rotten on this boat.

After 10 days, she called me. She was laughing, told me her arm had swollen, had been to the pharmacy a few hours before, they gave her a cream.

They did not detect the phlebitis. She was calling quickly from a cabin phone, I did not have time to tell her about my dream, I was so happy to hear her voice but told her that I was really anxious, that she should have called me before. It was summer time. She was in the mood to have fun.

My mother a few months before, confided in me, that to get old for her, was like climbing a mountain. And that it was starting to be high. During those ten days, I could hear her telling me, that it was high enough.

She died a few hours after having hung up the phone. A Sunday night.

The police found her one week after, and it was damned hot on this boat in August.

Two months before she had decided to stop drinking, and started the AA. The AA have this habit to make the people stop suddenly drinking alcohol. It is very bad for the heart, and she had drunk so much during so many years, at least 15 years, her heart was already damaged.

She also started to take hormones a few months before,  it is very dangerous when you suffer from a heart disease.

So my mother died, and during one week, after she hung up the phone, I was smelling and seeing more and more clearly, her body black and rotten.

When the police told me about her body, and all the details, awful details, instead of making me sad, in a certain way, it was making me safe, like at least I was not crazy, like at least I was not losing it, that there was a reason for those terrible days before her death. For my anxiety, for my nightmares, for those visions.

It was the first time, I had a clear vision, I asked during those days when she was dead and I did not know about it, what was my date, my mother who was dead at that time, was telling me, well I could hear her telling me; 55 it is high enough for me. So I asked what would be my date. And I had a number coming on my mind. Of course I always thought this number was my age when I would die, and it was a young age.

But in fact, my death never came, so maybe it was the year of my death, but at that time, it appeared to me so far, so distant, like impossible. It means I might die very old, or it means I might die another moment and it was just nothing, or something I did not understand.

I do not feel the height so much, I do not have so much vertigo yet. I feel younger and younger. But last year, at this date, the 7th of January, nothing had happened to me yet, my life was very calm since quite a long time.

I had registered on a website called Couchsurfing the mid of December 2012, and for me, this website was for crazy people, and the women going on this website, crazy. Because they were going to sleep on the couch of people they did not know, I judged the all concept unbalanced and just nuts. But the thing is one week before I had to leave my flat suddenly, and it was impossible during Christmas holidays, to find another one or any hotel room available, so I started to surf on people’s couch I had never met before and all this for free. I was incredibly lucky since the first night. I just wanted to sleep somewhere, did not intend to live any kind of romance. I was received instantly by great hosts in great houses. It was very enthusiastic for me this new life, with so many new friends being so open-minded, so generous and so easily trusting others.

Around the 7th of January 2013,  I was surfing in someone’s flat, and I was cold and distant with this handsome young man. He tried friendly to hug me in his kitchen, and it made me feel uncomfortable as I hated to hug, and never hugged anybody except my lovers and he was not a lover.

If the 7th of January last year, a psychic would have told me about 2013, about the year to come, about the weeks to come, I would have laughed, thinking he or she was a lunatic.

I have seen angels once, even if I was not believing in angels, after my mother’s death, one week after, I was with my boyfriend in the very small kind of loft, we were sharing at that time, we were never drinking or taking drugs, it was the early morning, we were not believing in angels, we were just sleeping and the angels came like the post office, like a commando of angels, to bring me a message, from my parents, as my father died going to my mother’s funeral in his car, he was not driving, it was a car accident.

So my parents sent me a message, I could hear and feel them clearly.

My boyfriend did not get the message but he saw everything I saw.

It was beautiful, and powerful, full of joy, full of non judgment, full of light and there was even an incredible sound like a choir of angels, with very high frequencies musical notes, with little crystal bells ringing softly. We both heard those sounds very clearly. I was blessed to be able to share this experience with someone else, to be able to talk about this moment afterwards. He had lived the same experience, even in the little details of it, which were not details, as everything  at  that moment was huge, fascinating, thrilling.

After that, I realized that angels were part of all religions nearly.

I never saw them again as well as that morning, but they stayed around. Never really left completely my life since.

For me, what you call destiny, or god, or angels, can make you experience jail, or prostitution, or poverty or wealth if they decide that you have to pass through the experience.

I don’t say it is the truth, but it is what I feel, if it is written that you will be in jail tonight, so you will be in jail tonight.

I had good friends prostitutes, they did not really have the choice, it was their destiny, it was written somehow since their childhood. One had been sold by her mother when she was 9. She was believing a lot in angels, was a very pure soul.

80% of the prostitutes in the world, have been forced into prostitution. And the others even if not forced, have a destiny, for example 90% of the prostitutes being a prostitute by their own will have been raped during childhood and in fifty percent of the cases by their father. Canadian statistics for women but as well for male prostitutes.

This year in 2013, I experienced freedom, more than ever, to be a free mind, a free spirit. But as well I met a lot of religious people, being Christians or Muslims, and all being against sexuality.

When the contraception was not existing, when the antibiotics were not existing, of course to have sex with someone was terribly risky and dangerous. Syphilis, and sexual diseases were all around and still are today. And to have a child without being married, was dangerous not only for the mother but as well for the child’s safety.

To marry being a virgin with a virgin, was nearly the only way, to have healthy children, and to be faithful nearly the only way to preserve this happiness.

Today, it has changed. Sex is no more as sacred than it was before.

But however, for me, it is still sacred.

It is still sacred moments.

It does not mean it has to be romantic, to be sacred. You can find sacrality in a garbage sometimes, it is just the way you look at your life.

A sacred moment is a diamond moment, you have to honor it.

However it is not that easy to live sacred moments, and to fly like a free bird, in the universe, to just flow, to just let go.

Respecting yourself and others, but as well respecting the moment.

I was nostalgic of 2013, thinking that I will never live this beautiful year again. I was not ready to let go.

But my first date of January 2013, the one after the desert, the cold swimming pool, proposed me to spend NYE with him a few days ago, maybe after having read this blog. Don’t know. I did not meet him since a little less than one year.

At first I was happy, and after I thought that I was not ready to live the suffering again, the pain again. Yes 2013, was a great year with great moments, but all the pain suddenly came back to me.

And I realized that I was able to live better than this, higher than this. That I was deserving as well better, it was time for me, to focus on other things in my life, to calm down, to not be afraid to be alone, to be lonely, that I had maybe to come back to my loneliness and to my roots, and to not be afraid of this.

I discovered last night, this music, this video I put at the start of this blog article. It is so short, so simple, just a guitar and a voice, and the video itself, is pure and simple. I have not been deeply moved, touched by a music as much since a long time, not having felt physically attracted with a singer as much since a very long time.

If you hear the kind of music this man wrote before, it is not bad at all, but it is more complicated, in this song, Berlin, he allows himself to a total form of simplicity. To connect with his soul. Berlin is a magic music, a magic moment of purity, and soul connection.

Before flying men could fly with just special clothes on them like today, we had to go to the moon. Before the first perfect hang-glider was built, we had first to know how to make planes and rockets.

Nothing in life is more complicated than simplicity.

I read Murakami last week, a famous Japanese writer, a book about the Art of running, about marathons.

It is a very simple book, simply written, but I thought when reading it, that to achieve this kind of simplicity was terribly complicated.

Simplicity is purity.

So I wish for myself for 2014, to just be simple, to just be direct, to just trace direct lines from myself to others, to not pretend, to not hide, to not fly higher than I can but not below either, to find my balance, to find the right altitude, the right words, the right moments, and to just simply honor life and others, without forgetting to respect myself, my desire, my wishes, my goals, my path.


Written in one shot in 30 minutes, I am French mother tongue, my English is not really great, feel free to send me your corrections.


Sexy memory

7th of December, this is the time for looking back at the year. I love my year 2013, a great year, like a great wine, a great taste, great moments, I learned so much this year.

As every year, and sometimes every month, every week or every day, I try to remember my best moments. What was the best moment of 2013?

It is interesting to have a few months of distance, to judge if it was or not a good moment.  Sometimes, you watch a movie, and you like it but a few months later, you already forgot about it, when some other movies, are unforgettable or become even more important for you after a few months.

If I could record my life, what are the moments I would like to keep somewhere on a DVD, and that I would like to watch again and again? And what are the moments I would like to erase. In fact, for the moments to be erased, that’s find, nothing traumatic enough this year, to be erased.

But what moments would I choose to keep in mind, to cherish, to record and to live again and again?

I would like so much, and every year it is the same, to be able to think instantly of friendship moments, work moments, spiritual moments (sometimes it happened to me that my spiritual life was superior in intensity, joy and pure pleasure than my terrestrial life), but well, not this year, I can not remember any strong spiritual experience beside this wonderful feeling of protection, providence, and little miracles of life, I had so many protections, helps, so many blessings.

But well, beside that, the moments, I like to remember as nearly every year are … , I would like to be able to use the adjective; romantic, but it is not the case all the time. So what would I record? What would I keep? What would I like to re-live again?

In January, a few minutes I can remember very well, and that I would like to be able to record, but just those few minutes, maybe 10 minutes max, maybe 5. Maybe twenty. Or half an hour, max. I would like to be able to live this kind of intensity more often in my life. It was a long time I did not have it.

Ten days later in another town it is a moment when my eyes just looked so deeply in some one eyes, that it was like diving. We were not alone, it was a few seconds. It was the perfect moment, rare moment, I would like to live every day with different type of people. It was a soul moment. It was not so clear in my mind but now when writing, it helps me to think, and yes it is this precise moment. When I dived, and it is as if I could feel again the sun on my skin, the smell of the air, the energy, perfect energy.

In the first town, I never had this diving moment, this soul connection, but in the second town, I did not have this moment of non judgment, when you just choose to let go, and it is like being on a slide with soap on it. It goes fast and you just do not have the choice of anything anymore. And at the end, you arrive in a big warm swimming pool and you just laugh. Well, the laughing moment was not there, and the swimming pool was cold.  I would record just the first half an hour, the sliding moment before the swimming pool because the arrival part was not a nice one. I was shivering without any warm towel, and I caught the flu and after I spent ten days sneezing and coughing, with a terrible fever. So i would record just  half an hour but I would say 5 great minutes, I guess if I could live it again, so I could edit it, and cut, and I would choose even the best moments of the half an hour and it would make a few great minutes.

In March, I would record a moment on the bus, an exchange of looks, and after a diner, really perfect, and after that, I would record the first 3 minutes maybe of a precise moment. It was in Turkey.

In June, I would record a lot of different moments, it would ask me a lot of editing, but I am not sure I would like to live those moments again, I am not sure, I would play them again and again. Because I felt lonely inside.

In July, I do not remember clearly, if it was at the end of July or in August as in August, I would record a few minutes of joy and peace. And after I would edit, and it would be another moment. But I felt anxious inside and maybe a little lonely too, so I am not so sure I would play it again.

End of August. It was not sexual. It was an energy. A connection.  I would record half an hour, but I would edit I guess, a gesture, I remember very well.

In October, I would record a very precise moment, of lightness, complicity, and pure happiness. I would record half an hour and would put it on my shelves for my old days.

In November, I would not record anything. Nothing to be recorded yet in December either.

Now I am not fair, I am sure there would be hundred of moments, that would worth being recorded.

But in my little game, I have maybe the right to record only one hour or two hours of 2013, so I have to pick up the best moments, and to choose the ones, I would like to replay. I would put in it, I guess if I would have enough time on the DVD, some moments of good laugh between friends, of nice talking between friends.

But let us be honest, those moments I think off, like every year, like since I am a teenager, are moments not romantic, to say it was romantic would not really describe the reality of the moment, not erotic, because it is not always sexual or erotic, so I don’t know I am searching in French the right word and cannot find it either. Sensual is not the right word. I would pick up the word; intensity. Intense moments. When you feel more alive. Moments that you remember easily. Moments that in fact, your brain recorded, chose to record, did not forget. And might never forget. The moment you will remember in your old days. The moments that make you think that yes, 2013 was a great year.

The moments I remember right away, like I can remember right away my favor movies, so my favor moments, my favor minutes.

The moments that I already replayed a lot in my mind this year. Some more than others.

9th December 2013 ad,

Knowing, that to not suffer, I have erased already, 99% of the good moments spent in 2013.

If I would like to replay some moments of my life, I would choose some hours when I was 16 years old, some hours, when I was 19, or 21, or some hours when I was 25 or older, it is the first moments I think about. And yes, they were romantic moments, with young men as I am hetero.

But the moments, I would like first to replay, would be, the moments spent with my grand mother, with my aunt, with my brother. This is the moments I would like to replay.

Happily, in a certain way, our brain keeps in mind, sometimes very clearly a lot of details, I kept in mind very well my grand mother’s voice, and the aromas, her house, the garden, and every time I think about it, I have tears in my eyes, like now.

When I was sharing those times, with her, in her house, I knew, it would be difficult for me to get over it, I did not know how difficult it would be. But I was afraid of the time when I would lose her, when I would lose the house, and my childhood in the same time.

I never think about my parents that way. It is a little sad for them, a little unfair maybe. Or very fair. I don’t know.

I had another grand mother, and she was very nice, but I remember when she was upset, or nervous, it is certainly unfair, or very fair. I don’t know.

Is our memory, the work of our memory through the years, fair or unfair? I don’t know.

Am I fair or unfair this year, for the moments erased or kept? I don’t know.

And in a certain way, I don’t care.

The magic of our brain, its perfection, is that it keeps the memory, but like a painter recreates it, in its own way. Through the filters of our emotions, of our pains, and for our own survival.

The brain keeps the memory, but does it to help us to go on, to survive, and to not get stuck too much in the past.

If we could record our best moments, like a music, or a film, and would be able to replay it, I guess we would end up killing ourselves, or dying of despair. We would never be able to turn the page, to move on, to grow up.

We would get stuck in the past.

So yes, 2013 was a great intense year, but now it is about, 2014.

Even if right now, I would like to stay in 2013, and 2014, appears to me, like a dark place, like a boring place, like a lonely place. Without any good reasons for this. Just a feeling. An anxiety. A desire to replay 2013 and to not have to go on. To not have to get older maybe as well.

But how was I feeling 2013 in December 2012?

I remember having thought very clearly, it could be the calm before the storm.

If someone would have described me 2013, no way, I would have believed it.

I would have laughed, and I would have thought that this person was a total lunatic.

Because 2013, had been so far away, from everything I have been before.

I am in a certain way, a totally new human being. I am incredibly different than one year ago.

I cannot even recall who I was in December 2012. And I am not sure I would like even to remember who I was.

I would not replay 2012, even if it was not a bad year. I would not replay either 2011.  I would no replay 2010. I would replay some hours in 2009.

I would not replay 2008. I would not replay 2007. I would replay maybe a little 2006, 2005, 2004, 2003. Not 2002. I would replay 2001 some hours linked to a very precise spiritual moment. Exactly 20 minutes.

Well, so it goes on like this. 2013 was a great year, as I feel to record it and to replay it. On this level, it is a success.

About being puzzled


26th of November 2013

When I think about the past, about this year 2013,  I often think that I would play my cards differently if I could rewind the time. But the problem is always the same, if I would have played my cards differently, I would not have gained the experience I have gained and  I would not stand where I am today. It is an endless process in my mind,  as I like being where I am and being who I am, and I like my brain as it is, I do not wish to erase my memory.

If I could advise myself one year ago, I would have some  advice to give, but if I would give this piece of advice, my brain, my heart, my soul might be different than it is today, my life would be different. Everything would be different, and I like where I stand right now.

I did not write that much lately on my blog. The most useful activity about writing a blog is to check who loves me or not. Some man would tell me he is in love, but would admit never having taken 5 minutes of his life to read it, it makes me laugh, this guy never had any feelings for me and this is find that way. My blog is the way I do check on people sometimes. If I would be in love with a man, and he would give me the link of his blog, I would read it for sure.

I had not write on my blog for months because I do not know about my reality. I do not know about my character, about the real story. What happened to my character last January, I would like to know. It is not because of me, it is because of my character. About understanding not me, but the story.  This is so annoying to watch a movie, and to not be able to understand the motivation of the characters.

Not a lot of books had the power to change my life. One was Tales of the ordinary madness, I might have been around 20 when I read it, it changed my vision of purity. What was purity what was not… I never felt purer than reading the last page of this book. The writer was putting his hand in excrement to show me a diamond, and I realized that I was respecting much more redemption than purity. Purity can experience to get down, but someone down, experiencing purity is stronger in a certain way.  We are all able of purity, able of putting ourselves in dust, but what is dust?

A tree needs the obscurity of the earth, of the ground, the dust, to give a flower. A flower without the roots of the plants would not exist.

The second book that changed me, changed my life, I was in my twenties, it is a book from Kundera, The joke. I still think very often about this book. The heroes of this book, do not have the whole puzzle of their life in hands. They think they know their life, but they have no idea, because they do not have all the pieces. Just a few pieces, so not the complete image. It is all about this, about trying to get all the pieces, to understand the puzzle, as to understand the puzzle is to understand ourselves. Our life and as well others participating in our life.

January is far away. But I am still searching some missing pieces. It is annoying because somehow since January, I got the picture. Yes, but it is just a feeling, a guess, but not a certitude.  And even if I can imagine a picture, I need proves. To be able to write my life. To be able to write on my blog, but as well on the sand, on the beach or  on a wet window with my finger, or in the clouds, in the stars, just standing in front of my life, in front of my death. In front of my god. With my blog, with my life. As our life is an open blog to the Universe, an open book.


I am French mother tongue, it is my first blog in English, it needs a lot of corrections and you are welcome to give it to me through the comments for example.