“Dernière Danse” par Indila

Je suis obsédé par cette chanson! Le rythme de pulsation du chœur et la vidéo de musique nourrir ma sombre, femme sorcière, presque côte sinistre. Je vous ai dit les gars avant que je aime toutes choses langue et culture. Donc, il est logique que je suis tombé sur cette chanson dans mon alimentation Youtube qui est plein de musique en anglais, français, espagnol, créole africain, grec, italien, et la liste est longue … bien sûr, il serait utile que je fait savait ce qui était dit dans chacune de ces langues. Merci, Google Translate, pour aider moi écrire ce blog! Je travaille sur l’amélioration de ma maîtrise, mais la plupart du temps je viens de faire des suppositions sauvages sur ce qui se dit sur la base des quelques indices contextuels je suis capable de déchiffrer. Side note: je vais devoir faire un autre poste tout au sujet de ces indices contextuels, mais je digression …

La première fois que je l’ai vu la vidéo pour Derniere Danse, je pensais qu’il était l’histoire d’une puissante sorcière qui a invoqué un vent tempête sur les citoyens de Paris en guise de représailles pour leur grossièreté quand ils pensaient qu’elle était rien de plus qu’un humble paysanne. Je l’écoute sur la répétition chaque fois que ma confiance a bas et je besoin d’un discours d’encouragement mentale pour me rappeler de mon ardeur intérieure. Totalement concept frais, non?

Eh bien, je me suis finalement eu le temps de traduire les paroles réelles, l’autre jour, et mon hypothèse était pas exactement en ligne avec le vrai sens, il semble. Comme il se trouve, Indila est pas une puissante sorcière, mais un cœur brisé amant deuil d’une relation qui a pris fin abruptement. La chanson d’amour triste est celui qui est recyclé un peu, si au début, je suis un peu déçu. Mais, ça ne serait pas génial si nous pouvions tous évacuer nos cœurs brisés avec une gigantesque tornade d’émotions pour purger tout le mal et la déception, puis se réveiller le lendemain et revenir à nous-mêmes normales? Je l’ai décidé que je suis toujours en amour avec la chanson, même si elle est pas ce que je pensais. Le premier album de Indila a été publié en Février et je dois l’avoir! Que pensez-vous? ~ cS

Dernière Danse

Oh ma douce souffrance,
Pourquoi s’acharner tu r’commence
Je ne suis qu’un être sans importance
Sans lui je suis un peu “paro”
Je déambule seule dans le metro
Une dernière danse
Pour oublier ma peine immense
Je veux m’enfuir, que tout recommence
Oh ma douce souffrance

Je remue le ciel, le jour, la nuit
Je danse avec le vent, la pluie
Un peu d’amour, un brin de miel
Et je danse, danse, danse, danse, danse, danse
Et dans le bruit, je cours et j’ai peur
Est-ce mon tour?
Vient la douleur…
Dans tout Paris, je m’abandonne
Et je m’envole, vole, vole, vole, vole
Que d’espérance…
Sur ce chemin en ton absence
J’ai beau trimer, sans toi ma vie n’est qu’un décor qui brille, vide de sens

Je remue le ciel, le jour, la nuit
Je danse avec le vent, la pluie
Un peu d’amour, un brin de miel
Et je danse, danse, danse, danse, danse, danse
Et dans le bruit, je cours et j’ai peur
Est-ce mon tour?
Vient la douleur…
Dans tout Paris, je m’abandonne
Et je m’envole, vole, vole, vole, vole

Dans cette douce souffrance.
Dont j’ai payé toutes les offenses
Ecoute comme mon cœur est immense
Je suis une enfant du monde

Je remue le ciel, le jour, la nuit
Je danse avec le vent, la pluie
Un peu d’amour, un brin de miel
Et je danse, danse, danse, danse, danse, danse
Et dans le bruit, je cours et j’ai peur
Est-ce mon tour?
Vient la douleur…
Dans tout Paris, je m’abandonne
Et je m’envole, vole, vole, vole, vole

My GeeChee ♡ In Greece!

 

I’m a GeeChee Girl at heart. Down in my soul, before I even fully understood what it meant to be Geechee, I knew that I was it. So, what is Geechee? Oxford English, Wiki, and Miriam have their official definitions. And combined, it’s not bad. But like I said, I’ve been a GeeChee long before I learned the technical renderings.

Geechee

Line breaks: Gee|chee

Pronunciation: /’gi:t:CHi’ /


NOUN

1. [MASS NOUN] An English-African creole dialect spoken by African Americans in the Low-country regions of South Carolina and Georgia. Compare with Gullah.

2. A speaker of Geechee.

3. A native rice farmer from the U.S. Gullah region.


ORIGIN

from the name of the Ogeechee River in Savannah, Georgia, USA.

from Kissi, an ethnic group living along the border area between Sierra Leone, Guinea and Liberia.

A variant of Gullah, from present-day Angola or the “Gola” ethnicity in Sierra Lone and Liberia.

 

That’s what the “experts” have to say on the subject. But, I grew up on the memory of my family teasing my mom that she was “nothin’ but a Geechee … ” because she loves to cook white rice with every meal, is stubborn as all hell when she has her mind set on something, and can never be content with any one thing or place. In short, she’s a countrified wanderer. And based on that understanding, I don’t see my Gullah GeeChee ways as all that different from Roma “Gypsies”, French “Bohemians”, or S. Asian “Dombas”. That’s something I’m passionate about – finding the universality in our unique cultural differences.

So it was a dream come true for me when I started planning my first international trip last January. My husband and I had decided to go on a delayed honeymoon in the Summer and, as long as I made sure to carefully organize everything (read: not blow our budget), I had free reign to follow my hearts desire. I chose Greece because I’d wanted to go there since my college days as a business student in New York. Study abroad programs in school always said their economy was closest to ours for case study purposes – the tragic irony of which has not escaped my notice.

In true Geechee fashion, I couldn’t be satisfied with a trip to just one city in Greece. I craved a romantic beach getaway in Santorini and a historically rich tour of artifacts in Athens. I wanted to make wild, crazy memories in hipster party-town Mykonos and unwind in a refined Italian-esque village on Crete. A cruise seemed too structured and formulaic. But bed-hopping through the country like blogger Lucky/Gutsy – with no set plans except a backpack and a prayer – while tempting, was way too adventurous even for me. In the end, I spent the past seven months toiling over my own happy medium and then spent ten days experiencing it all.

We flew into Eleftherios Venizelos Airport in Athens, took the metro to the first of five hotels we would stay in, and let the island-hopping fun begin. Clearly, I was inspired by the experience because I came home with almost 3,000 photos total between each of our 2 Gig camera phones! Let’s just say I was dumping to my Dropbox app like mad. I’ve shared some of the more touristy pictures to my private Facebook page and I’m in the process of curating the rest for future photography exhibitions. But I couldn’t let this experience pass without sharing some exclusive, edited and unedited pics with you guys too.

We may have been in Greece, but it didn’t take long for me to find the “universal” parts of the culture. One of the first things I noticed was the street art. It was seedy and edgy and dirty and provocative and political and bright and bold and beautiful beyond my wildest imaginings. So without further ado, I give you: My GeeChee ❤ In Greece – The Graffiti Edition! ~ cS

P.s. Of course, all wall murals, tags, and graffiti belong to and are under the ownership of the their respective street artists. However, photographic images in their edited and unedited formats remain the exclusive property of myself, Constance SHERESE and are not available in part or in whole for copy, reproduction, sale, or other mass marketing without express written permission as solicited through post or electronic mail. (c) 2014.

The Legal Stuff. So, sue me! Better yet, how ’bout we skip that part. Deal? Thanks! 😉

 

20140531_121423-2 - Level Adj 25 Input - Tone Curve 72, 172 20140531_121321 Brightness

Apparently, Shakespeare was visiting Greece at the same time as us!

Apparently, Shakespeare was visiting Greece at the same time as us!

Free Kostas

 

 

 

 

Love the way someone turned this old electrical box into a "supply box".

Love the way someone turned this old electrical meter into a “supply box”.

Octopus

Never let a photo op slip away ...

Never let a good Photo Op. pass you by …

Cool Cat!

Cool Cat!

Holy Mosque Scrollings?

Holy Mosque Scrollings?

Make that Holy Mosque Taggings!

Make that Holy Mosque Taggings!

Gonna have to brush up my language skills for this one …

20140531_150728 20140531_151637

20140531_140243 - 2 20140531_150748

(c) Constance SHERESE, 2014

ThrowBackThursday: Rediscovering Where I’ve Been

If I’m truly honest, I have to admit that I’ve never really been a big fan of the whole #ThrowBackThursday trend. I think hashtags are a good idea in principle, although widely misused/ overused. And in general, I’ve viewed the pictures and references posted by others to document their pasts with only mild interest on my part, if I paid any attention to them at all. So, I have prepared myself for the many cries of “hypocrite!, sellout!, and poser!!!” that are sure to come from this, my very first #ThrowBackTursday post.

 

It’s going on midnight here in Atlanta and after agonizing over this decision all day, I’ve come to the conclusion that maybe I was wrong. Yes, hashtags and throwbacks are trendier than ever, these days. But separate from the PR implications, I’m just now realizing that I’ve been doing quite a bit of “Mental Throw-backing” – yes, I just made up that phrase – over the past few months and it’s been good for me! I’ve been looking back. A lot. And not the unhealthy dwelling on past mistakes that we all can sometimes do, but the cathartic cleansing that helps us gain clarity and move forward even better than we were. I’ve rediscovered the things from my past that worked really well; the things that represent me at my core and make me unique. And in uncovering those things, I realize that I want to share them. With all of you especially.

 

So what’s one of the first things I’m re-learning about myself? That I am a writer. Duh, you may say. And I get it. I am sitting here writing an entry for my blog, after all. It should be obvious that I’m a writer. But I don’t think I’ve always appreciated that fact. Because I’m an artist too. And the artist in me has more than a mild case of Attention Deficit Disorder (Read: Rabbits In My Mind). I’m a dancer, and a musician, and a sketch artist, and an innovator, and a creator of all things beautiful – even the ugly parts of life – and all of that ART has a tendency to blur my vision. But when I can see clearly, I am reminded that at my core I am a writer. First and foremost, to the very depths of my being, my first love has always been the Written Word. Which makes it fitting that this my first #ThrowBackThursday post should take a look back at the writer I’ve always been.

 

Late Night Snack

2:00am and I can’t sleep.

No choice but to do what I do best.

devour the Words that are running through my mind.

It is simple really;

Dissect each syllable, Fillet every letter,

then Swallow the meat of it

whole.

 

God, how I love Words!

 

And not just some Words

or a few sentences.

But I would gladly eat them all,

if it meant that I could savor

each

of the different tastes

and textures.

 

You see, English is a chewy language.

It sits

at the front of my mouth

patiently waiting to be shredded

into even strips by a pair of pearly bicuspids.

At times,

it is boring and dry.

The tough piece of steak

that requires work

in exchange for satisfaction.

But I prefer to think of it

as that first bite

into a Bubblicious square.

Listen:

“I – Want – To – Go – To – Sleep.”

True,

the Words are a little stiff and precise.

But who do you know

that ever turned down

a Jaw Breaker

for fear of actually breaking their jaw?

That

is the beauty of English.

that. first. perfect. bite.

 

God, how I do love Words!

 

Spanish,

on the other hand,

is Chocolate

balanced on the center of my tongue.

Warm and Melting,

it is a sweet reminder

of New York City;

and Home.

Bodegas and Religious Botanicas

Summer Block Parties and Errant Fire Hydrants,

and Secrets Whispered on Front Stoops

to the tune of

Double Dutch.

Not to mention the

Loud Mouthed Beauty Salons

full of Wide Hips

Dancing to Marc Anthony, and Passing

around Never-Ending Plates

of Pastelillos.

 

And all this

compactly wrapped

into the single Rolled “R”

that flows from my lips.

 

Oye:

“EstoyMuyCansado,

YSiNoConsigueSuenoPronto,

MeVoyAIrLoca!

 

Can’t you just Taste it?

The rich Flavor of

the Words

that almost makes you want to

lick

your fingers

after each bite.

 

That

is Spanish.

Chocolate,

balanced on the center of my tongue.

 

Ay! Como me encanta Las Palabras!

 

And then,

There is French.

mouthwash

at the Back of my Throat

that somehow manages to sound

Romantic.

 

“Puet-etre,

si je me ferme mes yeux

et sommeil de moutons

de compte viendront.”

 

I don’t even know

if I said that right,

but I must admit,

I am entranced!

 

Such is French!

The language of aging

Casanova’s everywhere.

 

Dieu, comment j’aime des mots!

 

I have heard

that there is nothing so perfect

as a late night snack

to cure insomnia.

But somehow,

I think This is much more satisfying.

 

God, how I love words!

Maybe,

even more

than the Elusive Sleep

I am forfeiting by staying up to write this!

 

cS – August 12 (Early AM), 2008

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