Strange morning fog
I take it from 19th century French vague à l’âme, this undefined inner state of malaise, discomfort, type of melancholy… Peeping through my window, I watched greyness filling this world and thought of a better end to this spring break. A hooded crow perched on my neighbours’ totem pole most of the morning. If I listen to shamanic wisdom, it is a sign of change and yet, back then, it looked so static. Here and then, a lone starling gathered nesting materials in secret…
Now what’s the connection with the picture above? I never really explained it when it was first published as a picture on the blog. Pure linguistics in a form of a word game.
Vague and lame in French mean wave. However, I was listening to Chopin on my iPod watching rollers that day and the great Polish master tainted what I usually feel as platitude when faced to the North Atlantic into his sense of melancholy. Hence Vagalam’.
Here comes the sunshine
The musician has changed.
And now fog dissipated I begin to smile again and even think of pushing it to Ninian once more before I make my way back to that headland in Lerwick…