…there was a little village named Tourrettes sur Loup. It lay at the foot of the Alpes Maritimes. At times it was lulled in fog, at times the sun shone happily onto the stone houses that lay cuddled together on a huge rock. The sea in the distance sparkled everlasting friendship to it’s little village fellow. The shutters were painted in light blue, just like the blossom of lavender…

In this village there was a tiny street, narrow as can be. Cats sat on the old stones of window-sills and worn out steps and peaked at me suspiciously when I walked by. The dizzying scent of Jasmin lay in the air and bewildered my mind. A slight wind swept through the alleys… Then, suddenly that little blue handwritten sign appeared just in front of my eyes, saying:

Curious as I was, I stopped, turned around and found myself standing in front of an old wooden arched door that stood widely open and unleashed an exceptionally inviting view into an old unevenly shaped room, illuminated by all kinds of jolly old lamps dressed with huge cloth lampshades with hundreds of tassels shaking in the wind. They shed light on pictures in frames – all sorts of different frames of wood and paper, frames in frames… Massive wooden bars in the ceiling held the old stone house, that lay sleeping silently on it’s head. And then I walked in…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.

When I stepped out of this room, it was like stepping out of a time capsule. I found myself somewhat changed. Something had layed it’s protective and soothing hand onto my heart. I named it ‘Tranquillité‘.

Fond farewell, my little intriguing picturesque village of Tourrettes sur Loup… Je serais de retour…

 

…

*when and where?

**art works can be purchased here…

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