Sunday, November 23, 2014


At Saint-Grégoire des montagnes: We approached a travelers hut with circumspection, understanding, having read a recent issue of The Honest Tourist, that previous venturers had met tragedy in similar conditions. We peered carefully across a valley to ascertain the presence of possibly dangerous animals, vegetables or alternative forces. Realizing none of our premonitions of disaster, we lay back our heads and indulged a previously undiscovered cellular want of calm.

Several hours later, bloated with chroma, we beheld the majesty of the mountainside sanctuary and involuntarily broke into song. Much later, energized as only a kinesiologist might determine (my aunt literally dancing for several miles) we continued on—where-to being of little or no concern given the sense of well being proffered by the sanctuary. (Excerpted from Travels With My Aunt)

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

An exciting city center

Most travelers entering the bowels of Brivol will opt for a guided tour as the city's design leaves many wanting direction. Nonetheless, tensions ease as travelers relax and the experience generates a sense of well being. The mind being utilized in ways previously unfamiliar begets confidence. Movement becomes fluid. After this, many find that carefully planned excursions deny the excitement of improvised treks.

Thursday, November 13, 2014

Chroma Valley

We'll be stopping off in Tolivia to visit the discount bazaar. Sunglasses are a prerequisite when visiting Chroma Township. Can't wait to experience the colorful lifestyle its residents cherish. (Excerpted from Travels With My Aunt)

Sunday, November 09, 2014


Travelling northward approaching St. Martin de Midi to visit Tuscal Township, the home of Black and White University, where, approximately 52 years prior, A. matriculated as a student of canine behavior. B&W, its popular appellation, is a school without values. No in between. Gray has been expunged from all dictionaries. Students are graded on a scale that includes 0 or 100. They graduate Magna Cum Laude or NAA —Not At All. NAAs are allowed an additional semester to complete the required coursework with perfect scores but most waive this right and opt to enter graduate programs elsewhere. A. is a former NAA, and, subsequent to her receiving her NAA, opted for graduate studies at another institution. We were at B&W to present the university's chancellor with a portrait of A's favorite dog, Noir. (A portrait of Blanc, A's Havanese, has been bequeathed to the university.)

However, at Franc du Lacque, A. lost the keepsake, a pendant featuring a likeness of Noir's head, carved in the mid 20th Century by Noir's handler, a walking-shooting dog competitor temporarily incapacitated by a torn ligament in his ankle. This rendition depicts Noir, nose to the air, catching a whiff of the beef livers, A. stored on the window sill above the pantry sink. Quail never interested the dog all that much, thus his placement with A. (Excerpted from Travels with My Aunt)

Thursday, November 06, 2014

Near St. Alain

Near Mt St. Alain the fields and pastures loll westward toward the lake. Stands of maples draw lines. Buckets fill with sap each spring and sugaring houses belch steam and smoke. A stone wall crosses. interrupting —but only briefly. The landscape is its own being and will not, can not, be anything other. This patchwork of corn rows and lush, verdant grasses and rich umbers where seeds have yet to sprout, eases your eyes to the deep, ultramarine—the lake.

Beyond, near Port Noise, mountains rise from the waters. Not gently, as if to encourage the soul to higher planes. Severely, demanding to know why you approach. And once you have explored and exhausted possible answers, given yourself up to the simple majesty that once may have been the verge of the ocean, many millions of years before, you let go of that to which we cling, those feeble attempts to dominate the indomitable. You embrace your being on the Earth. You give thanks. You feel grace.  (Transcribed from a story told to my aunt.)

Sunday, October 19, 2014


Sidewalk at the Intersection of Center and Main, Formlee Tattoo.

At Formlee Tattoo. Mostly low rise concrete block and poured concrete buildings,  walls inscribed with chalk art and spray-paint symbology. Sidewalks offer up a colorful array of pithy remarks. Myriad neon signs, static and flashing, complete the visual cataract. Some years prior, we visited the berg and lunched in a cafe where the menu was inscribed on the waiter's right arm and the wine list on his left. Bemoaning his impending unemployment, he'd verbally assailed the chef's decision to remove beef and pork specials in an attempt to court the growing population of chicken and fish aficionados. (Note that some of the wait help had accepted skin grafts and others had reverted to skin colored sleeves to remove listings and other decorative accoutrement. Ours, a refugee from the 60s, summarily refused to take part in anything that smacked of a coverup.)

Government grant money has proved woefully inadequate as residents of the berg attempt to disabuse walls and sidewalks of utterances and commentary. Our remembrances of the neighborhood will be as indelible as the art. (Excerpted from Travels With My Aunt)

Friday, October 17, 2014


Gardener Street, St. Ellens
St. Ellens offers no respite to the weary. Nothing is repeated here. Each symbol, each house, each office is developed and constructed without a template. Each construction drawing is as original as its concept. Gardens stand as unique ventures in planting. Store fronts appear as a conglomerate of taste and function but, again, each is singular. The village defines diversity.

To the spoken word, people listen as carefully as if awaiting the pitter patter of hooves on the roof top following the Winter Solstice. Reiterate has been obliterated from dictionaries.

Rather than confuse its residents, St. Ellens' passion for invention stimulates.
(Excerpted from Travels With My Aunt)