Chameleon Man

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Alexandre Farto a.k.a. Vhils (London)

Chameleon Man 

There was once a little boy who had many extraordinary powers.
When he was younger, he could change colors to blend in to his background.
It was a game he used to play.
Blend in to pretend.

“I’m a camouflaged soldier! Nobody can find me here. I’m safe from:
bombs,
guns,
and fights.
I can look up
at the bottom of my bed
and know,

he can’t get me here.”

GD 3.15.14 student teaching 

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Saffron Skies

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Vineyard Race August 2014

Saffron Skies

Crusted and dream drunk

rise the eyes to ride

none other than those saffron skies.

Aubergine silks pool at the edge of the world

to serve the drowsy tomorrowers,

blanketing a distant land

in what inevitably will be

one more yin and yang night.

Her angels wake wet and wild

on the cold cobblestones,

facing a reality just dreamt away.

She sits still and vigilant,

with eyes of flame and a brow only one man could ever see.

Saffron skies warn of storm

to land lock the salty miners.

Once more the auberjine veil lifts

to reveal a dirty truth.

So we pray to Allah,

it ‘tis but a dream.

Morocco 2014

GD

Read and chow on delectable North African food – http://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/collection/tagine

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Parisian Panic

Lovers frolick at the Lover's Bridge aside a dreamer. Only a few months later the Parisians fell out of love and began the removal of the padlocks, what does this mean for those lovers who locked their eternity into the city of love?

Lovers frolick at the Lover’s Bridge aside a dreamer. Only a few months later the Parisians fell out of love and began the removal of the padlocks, what does this mean for those lovers who locked their eternity into the city of love?

…I stepped off the metro at precisely 7:06am after a night of dire solitude and weak knees. The nine hour bus ride from London to Calais to Paris left me unconscious at passport control. All histrionics aside, I refused hospitalization and this is an insight into how my 12 hours in Paris went… 

The Recipe

… The very first thing I saw was an artisan market across La Seine. I saw a beautiful woman with hair glossy black, like a raven’s reaching down her back, laughing lips of rouge created a little ‘O’ and brought me forward. Surrounding her were piles of beautiful macaroons in every color imaginable. Thus my feast began, my favorite? Hazelnut chocolate macaroon… oh my…

Click here to find this delicious recipe created by Lindsey Ruel http://www.yummly.com/recipe/external/Chocolate-Hazelnut-Macarons-629776

Ingredients
  1. 3/4 cup almond flour, sifted
  2. 1 cup powdered sugar
  3. 2 egg whites, room temperature
  4. pinch of cream of tartar
  5. 1/4 cup granulated sugar
  6. 1 tsp hazelnut extract
  7. brown gel food coloring
  8. chocolate hazelnut spread for filling
The Poem 
… After a truly incredible day of Parisian unseasonable sunshine, nouveaux amis, locks of love, Van Gogh, Claude Monet, Pablo Picasso, Miss Mona, and an ached heart I sat outside L’Orangerie and watched the sun kiss Paris goodnight. What ensued blew my circuits and I watched, eyes dazzled by the lights of the Tour Eiffel, as another watched and preyed upon me..
The Sky Is Not Blue, But Black.

Silently sits the cynical old man

Calculating the cost and inconvenience

Of those dazzling lights swimming on the Eiffel Tower.

Glitter pulses by the billion as

Lights dance across the surface in waves of diamonds.

It’s lovers twirling to a heartbeat,

It’s dancers clutched in concentration,

It’s speed, agility, and mostly: allure.

My young eyes are charmed, in this city of light and love.

When he speaks he says:

“Nothing is as it seems,

The world is disillusioned.”

So in a haze we rushed to Pompidou.

GD

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