Undoubtedly the most prolonged absence of news from this site in its short history has reduced the readership from the Faithful 5¾ to the Habitual ½-back, who has yet to let me know whether you're a she, a he, an in-between or an alien "invader".
We've seen a lot of those hereabouts lately, the Kid and me. Finally, I'm forgiven for inflicting 'Mars Attacks' on her when she was seven or eight and it scared her silly. Moreover, she has emptied the box of its DVD, along with seven others, most of them destined for their umpteenth viewing, but this time with a nice young lad.
Those ghostly 'Pirates' were also among them, as well as 'Human Traffic' (IMDb), which perhaps I ought to have forbidden. "La comédie la plus trash de l'année !!" is one of a bunch I haven't seen myself yet and comes with a big cover "health warning".
I suspect 'Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within' is still here simply because she forgot, but this striking, "ground-breaking" first in fully computer-generated cinema about an invasion which isn't brings me back to wounded Gaia.
During today's stroll in the Parc Montsouris, one of the two biggest within city walls, I almost succeeded in the "lonely as a cloud" act, though it's late for daffodils and nigh impossible to escape the dirty noise of internal combustion engines. It came to me that I've scarcely set foot outside Paris for getting on for two years now and never anywhere which could really be called open countryside.
That must change, but I'm ready to wait.
The day has been wonderful, the weather magnificent. I slept little last night and have eaten virtually nothing since Sunday lunchtime, but my operating system feels all the better for that.
And, yup, I'm blogging again.
On June 25, I received this, and haven't yet answered:
"Yr last blog featured a Cybergirl of the Month. It was dated June 17th. Does this mean you are now going to blog mensuellement? Cheers, Tony"
No, it didn't and doesn't.
For yesterday's revival with a film review, you have not me to thank, but a phenomenal woman who gave me the required kick up the butt, strongly recommending that I catch 'Les Choristes' before it drops off the radar of the city's big screens.
She was right. And the movie also came as a much-needed reminder that none of the DVDs I've gathered to see and watch again on the Mac offer the same thing as a decent Paris cinema, bonuses or no bonus discs.
However, unlike the last time there was a gap, it wasn't blogger's block that seized me, but the growing realisation that this place, like its author, is in for a serious change or three.
Since a delightful first meeting in a month one night last week, I've realised something a little odd.
In her way, for all her "faults" and her "flaws" and such other intimations of simple humanity she has issued as warnings, she is -- and I mean this one short word -- perfect. Perhaps rather like another alien who isn't: Milla Jovovich in 'Le Cinquième Elément' ('The Fifth Element'; ("72% fresh" - Besson being one of my favourite directors).
For the first time since I wrote 'Gaia's Complaint' -- and previous risks at blogging parts of that have perhaps mercifully met without comment -- I've understood, myself, the full meaning of that highly imperfect endeavour.
" - It wos always
The Eyes
wot dunnit, guv'nor.
 - The eyes, raged the judge.
- Yes, m'lord.
I've got a fetish for clear eyes,
well-lit (and bushy tails).
- Be British. Your values...
- are widely shared, m'lord.
I detest eyes that hide behind veils.
[...]"
(from the Third Watch)
It may take forever for her to pardon me this; but let's say it must be the last breach in the wall of "rules and regulations".
It can be no more, but certainly no less; not for a woman who now knows absolutely everything I had still locked in a heart which is completely and most willingly hers.
The eyes have it all right; the lifelong question was always "Whose eyes?"
Yet still she is talking to me!
Which is, of course, nothing short of the second miracle of my year...
Today, three times I was spoken to by a woman in love.
Such a road almost invariably being strewn with obstacles, real or absurdly imagined, this friend is among several people who have made a fearful mistake about me of late.
"Since you met her," one said some weeks ago, "how you've changed!
You've opened up and seem so suddenly wise about love.
It might just be that you're right and this woman is your salvation."
Well, I know neither about the salvation nor the wisdom! If that consists in disclosing to the other all that needed the saying for a lifetime and taking every other risk your closest friends have told you is total folly and no part of their own guidebooks, then call me a "wise fool" with the luck of Old Nick himself!
But for the rest, anybody who comes back here any more will have to settle for 'And the end of all our exploring'. It's the last part of my 'Gaia story' I remain willing to share with anybody but her.
Her white lilac among the illustrations on that page is another breach of (copyright) rules, since I stole it from the newly discovered 'Armchair France'. The butterfly kiss reminds me once again of the 'Dreaming Butterfly' of Chuang Tsu.
So, for that theft I can offer amends.
But as to Gaia's full intent, all I have left to offer now is patience sustained by some living spirit within of hope, and the promise to keep the private promises already made.
Whatever happens, I must always be grateful, without regrets, for what already did.
So should the Habitual ½-back seek further news of my heart, I'm sorry to say that this is all. There won't be any more, not on this blog. The acts of "confession" and "blogging as therapy" end, for me, with this entry tonight.
That others, some of them blogrolled, have no such plans is no hindrance; on the contrary, I much appreciate what many have written, their courage and insights and strength. I shall certainly go on reading them, without ceasing to link to what I find entertaining, informative, novel, wise and sometimes extremely funny!
In thinking all this through, along with the rest of my life, I was tempted for a while to remove those key words from the top: "an experiment."
But only this part of my experiment is finished.
I shall also go on posting serious stuff, of course, but my heart has been so greatly unburdened by a woman's astounding tolerance of its dangerous ways that what's between us has to lighten up, especially at my end of this silver thread.
There's a "deal" now, that's how she once put it.
It's not for the breaking!
_____________
*Post modified mainly for format early on June 30: i) two images removed since I've seen too many SF films lately, would not want to leave any even remote clues as to the lass's identity; and ii) I had to redo the HTML code (the "pre" tag I had finally learned and tested worked fine in all of my six browsers but one. Which one? Internet Explorer, of course. Another dog's breakfast of a present from the Bill Gates stable...).
11:02:04 PM link 
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