


After
the heat, this summer's end has seen the sky fall on our heads.
It is said that this does not solve the problem of the drought that remains
acute.
As we are on the return from holidays, we were hoping some progress with
the data towards a possible transaction on the question of ARMAN's
succcession.
This supposed organizing some form of communication.
In order to be able to confront viewpoints.
And see the draft of a potential agreement on the prospects.
With the need, in this context, to introduce proper conditions for exchanging
ideas.
In brief, thinking how to be in a dynamic position to become interlocutors.
And be brave enough to talk face to face.
This supposes a true intent to refuse to register on the red list or
put oneself on the answering service.
To take one's courage in both hands and refuse to consider any danger in
trying to find an agreement. One has to take a position of commitment.
At our end, we have been trained: ARMAN bought
us up in the example never to fear assuming our position.
From the will side to the fight, he never denied the exemplarity in this
tenacity to fight, be it for his ideas, his work or against the disease,
to the end.
He used to say that in life, his only true weakness was to love too passionately....women.
He was raising his eyebrow bending his head slightly to say with a cheeky
smile : "this is my Achilles' heel..."
Then carrying on to say that he did not grant himself much space for weakness.
" I am a predator..."
He was thus perceiving two radically opposed ways to place oneself in the
ferocity of life : the side of those who dominate and the other... And he
liked to watch the world in this respect recognising the signs that tell
it.
He reminded us this many times: "STAND
UP STRAIGHT".
So I am looking at our situation today with some humour (even though nothing
is really helping in there to make us laugh...)
And I don't resist the envy to share this evocation with you.
Since the art of setting up on display day after day, the art of directing
all the clauses to get to negotiate a victory, shows a funny image !
Indeed, the bird is unable to fly and this makes take off to the heights
hard.
But the fowl can run really fast.
This is an asset when facing danger.
It is also appreciated for its feathers to make ornaments so this makes some
link at least with the matter of aesthetics.
Its stomach is renowned to be able to digest anything.
This is a proof of rustic robustness.
Therefore a useful feature for endurance in fighting.
Nevertheless, the use of such a strategy is not favourable to conversation.
Something to compare to the popular phrasing: "Talk to my ... ,bottom,
my head is not available"...
But also, since I am inclined to see things through my training pattern :
a sensitivity towards accumulation, an image has arisen.
To make a multiplying of this policy in action.
Because of these other folks also engaged in that game.
A hell of an elite troop formed in my imagination to embody the best!
I finally thought that this remains an efficient means to go to the bottom
and check if there is any water left.
So, we will have to wait for the diagnosis for lack of hearing the positions
: one has to say that it makes voices coming
from far down !
To next Saturday
COMMENTAIRES:
ARMAN, Il aimait les femmes...
Quiconque a connu un peu Arman sait son amour des femmes. Ce n'était pas
seulement le jeu du pêcheur-prédateur qui le motivait, même
s'il en était un redoutable dans l'âme. Non, il portait en lui une
quête et un véritable amour de toutes les femmes qui ont croisé son
chemin. Vous le savez bien vous qu'il a aimé et qui le pleurez aujourd'hui.
C'était ça, la mesure de son coeur: sans limites. Pour sa dernière
femme aussi, bien sur. Avec elle, dés le début, le "jeu" s'est
pimenté de la difficulté d'attraper sa proie, ce qui a accru son
désir pour elle. Je ne sais pas s'il s'est aperçu alors qu'il était
aussi lui-même devenu un gros poisson...
Mais pendant des années, il s'est ingénié à ne pas
la laisser l'attraper tout à fait pour le séquestrer dans son salon
bourgeois, où l'étroitesse ne laissait même pas place à ses
enfants.
Il croyait pouvoir garder la main haute à ce drôle de jeu chasseur-caché,
prédateur-proie.
Jusqu'à la fin ou épuisé dans sa lutte contre la maladie
et la douleur, il l'a laissé l'épingler comme un pauvre papillon
dont on aurait coupé les ailes. Ces ailes magnifiques: c'était
son souffle vital, son énergie créatrice, le moteur de son génie.
Dans cette terrible partie qu'elle croit avoir gagné, nous l'avons tous
perdu...
Cette pitoyable victoire devrait-elle lui donner, en plus,le pouvoir absolu de
contrôler sa postérité ?
ARMAN, he loved women...
Anybody who knew Arman even a little, knew his love of women. It wasn't
just the hunting-fishing game that drove him, even though he was naturally
a fearsome one. No, he was bearing in his deep self a quest and a true
love for all women who came across his life. You know it fully well,
you he loved and who are mourning him now. This was the measure of his
heart: without boundary. For his last wife, as well of course. With her
at the beginning, the "game" was spiced by the difficulty to
catch his prey, which increased his desire for her. I don't know if he
realized then that he had become a big fish himself...
But for years, he applied his best skills not to let her catch him completely
and sequester him in her bourgeois lounge, where the narrowness wouldn't
even leave room for his children. He really believed he could keep control
in this strange hunter-hidden, predator-prey game. Until the end when,
exhausted by his fight against disease and pain, he let her pin him down
like an unlucky butterfly with cut wings. These magnificent wings, they
were his vital breath, his creative energy, the drive of his genius. And
in this terrible game she thinks she won, we have all lost him...
Should this pitiful victory really grant her absolute power to control
his posterity ?
Anne
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