Archive for March, 2010


Allowing, Plan 51. Latour

March 25, 2010

Those who envy us for living in the centre of Paris have no idea of the crushing load we carry. Everything depends, we now know, on whether it’s cold or hot, real or virtual. When the temperature is low, Paris weighs on the shoulders of its inhabitants, its workers, as if every building were the tombstone of a huge cemetery. What’s the difference, after all, between the city’s most famous avenues and the tombs of Père Lachaise? There are as many reclining statues in the one as plaques on the buildings of the other: “Here Claude Bernard had his laboratory”, “On the site of this hotel Victor Hugo lived”, “Pasteur was a student here”, “Picasso had his studio here: in the same building Balzac lodged the painter of Le Chef d’oeuvre inconnu”. Everywhere the great dead crush the little living. At the Ecole de Médecine one can still visit the chapel where the club révolutionnaire des Cordeliers made and unmade opinions. Where is opinion made now? We wonder with what arms, what mouths, what barricades governments could be overthrown. Where are the Parisians of yesteryear? Higher up, in rue Gay-Lussac, in May 68 the cobbles used to vibrate as if they were on a cushion of air; today they rest on a thick layer of asphalt, rigid and compact like the venerable bones in the Saints Innocents cemetery. Yes, it’s hard work walking up the Montagne St. Geneviève, not because of the slope but because of the relics one has to keep stepping over. In front of these commemorative plaques we gape in admiration like Mexicans in front of the pyramids that, considering the small size of their contemporaries, they thought had been built by giant ancestors. Where are Pascal and Saint Geneviève? Laplace and Hugo? Péguy and Foucault? Where are the agitators capable of heating up a bit this vast museum that tourists visit, guidebook in hand, under the impression they’re in a huge theme park? “To our great dead, the fatherland is grateful” is written on the Pantheon: Where are the revolutionary tricotteuses capable of unknitting this muchtoo-tight tissue? On what facade do we see: “To the living, the homeland reviving”?

When the temperature is higher Paris becomes lighter. The tight network of surveillance cameras, electronic codes, patrols, dogs, guards and police officers no longer smothers the passer-by who starts looking at the city differently. It’s always the same: congested, populous, suffocated, controlled, on the verge of apoplexy. Yet we breathe a bright and lively air. What’s happening? From real, Paris becomes virtual: its temperature has risen; the representation of the social has become more relaxed, lighter.


16th of March

March 16, 2010

Katie M. Simon was born.



March 15, 2010


March 15, 2010


March 4, 2010


My beloved Nadavi

March 3, 2010

Jewish tradition says that during a man’s funeral all the sperms he spilled in vain come to denounce him.
Millions of sperms will come to denounce me, but there’s one single sperm, beloved and sweet, that grew into a young boy, and with one breath, one look, he’ll drive them all away to hell.
My sweet little Nadav, my angel, my darling.
You’re not just Madam Estrea, you are Madam Estrea, my talented lovely writer.
I always knew what I saw when I read your diary.
I’m so happy that I read it.
I’m leaving you calm, with a smile, with great love.
And if you look real close, I bet you’ll see me bragging about you up there.