La Nuit Blanche

Object of game: On chasing beauty.

Sight:
the photographs of Francesca Woodman (above)
the drawings of Aubrey Beardsley
the paintings of Egon Schiele
the watercolors of Edmund Dulac
the films of Andrei Tarkovsky
Jan Svankmeyer’s “Alice”
Quay Brothers’ “Street of Crocodiles”
Kieslowski’s “La double vie de Veronique”
Dario Argento’s “Suspiria”
Yoon-Hyun Chang’s “Hwang Jin-Yi”
the ceiling of the Paris Opera
sunlight in a white room
darkened skies before a storm
hands and knife peeling a plum
a stray eyelash on a lover’s cheek
freckles

Smell:
the morning sea
burning leaves
freshly baked bread
sesame oil
play dough
old books
smoky cafés
Le Jardin de Bagatelle after a storm
pearl face powder and blush
fresh lacquer paint on Japanese jewelry boxes

Taste:
maple syrup from the tree tap
toast fried in butter, topped with white sugar
steamed chestnuts, scooped with a tiny spoon
cold fresh oysters
pomogranate vinegar cocktails
aloe drink
white peaches
Korean azalea flower liquor
pastis run through ice
blood after a tongue bite
a man’s tears

Sound:
church bells in the afternoon
a pile of necklaces
the skirts of a hanbok gown as i sit
the beats of a jang-gu
the Chopin nocturnes
Erik Satie’s “Gnossiennes”
Ennio Morricone’s “Canone Inverso”
Nicolas Peyrac’s “Je t’aimais, je n’ai pas changé”
Juliette Greco singing “Chanson des vieux amants”
Barbara’s “Ce matin là”
Gainsbourg and Birkin singing “Bonnie and Clyde”
wooden keys clacking between the notes on the clavier
fingers rubbing through strings on a bass
sound of charcoal and fingers on paper
the long shutter release of a 4X5 view camera
the breaths of a man dancing a tango
spectacles put down on a dresser
the crackling of old vinyl records
the projector in old cinemas
boots crunching in the snow
my mother’s voice

Touch:
wet braided hair
korean ramie maedup knots
a lover’s lower lip
warm sunbathed skin
cool clean sheets on a hot summer night
a lover’s fingertips caressing my face
a cool breeze against the nape of my neck
silk on my legs while i walk
running my hands over my decolletage
cold sand on an autumn beach
wet seaweed
dew on my lashes and nose in the fog
new leather shoes
mink on my neck (i am all for real fur, so shut up!)
hot bubble baths!

Words: (a welcome category addition by Heartbreak Tango)
“Il n’y a plus de roues de bicyclettes” – Beckett
Rilke’s “Dueno Elegies”
Wallace Stevens “Sunday Morning”
The poems of Mallarmé
Michael Ondaatje’s “In the Skin of a Lion”
Calvino’s “Invisible Cities”
Michel Leiris “L’âge d’homme”
Hermann Hesse’s “Steppenwolf”
Cyrano de Bergerac’s “Les états et empires de la lune”

Paper folded. Your turn!