Being a parent. Being a child.

Today I was travelling by means of public transport. On the bus stop two people were to get off: a men and a child. The boy was perhaps 3 years old - he was so small and fragile that he could hardly go down the steps from bus to the pavement. But his father held boy's hand, and the child managed to get off the bus by himself.

I wondered. If it was a mother she would probably take the child on her arms.



These are the photos from Paris. I liked looking on the families, thinking how their relations are, who are they, what they do. They often were so similar, but in a different sense - so distinct.
I have always wanted to have beautiful photos as a child. To be honest, I considered myself as an ugly child. I imagined that I will have a huge problem in the future - when I'll become a famous star (no, it didn't matter that I cannot sing or whatever) I will have to show in TV how I looked like x years ago. I had nightmares about it! That's why I often wonder what these kids think about themselves. Kids always think. We shouldn't forget it. Nor ignore it.

Impressed?

I am. Definitely. I saw the Paris collection of impressionists' paintings in the Museum D'Orsay.



Now I can die.

Pont des Arts ou... Amour?

Trip to Paris unexpectedly turned out to inspire. To motivate. To fill my head with stupidities, love and lonley walks by the Seine.



Why?

She keeps Moët and Chandon in her pretty cabinet

Combination of all-time favourite characters? Possible. Monet. Freddie Mercury. The cabinet of my inspirations and all that garbage I produce in pursue of realizing some psychodelic and unreal visions. Or mild, cliche landscapes, why not?


Claude Monet, Le déjeuner sur l'herbe