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For English speakers, three articles I've read over several years about death described by healthcare professionals. I've already discussed the first two, but upon reading the third, I thought it was worth compiling a little anthology.

I've been the proud owner of a Leica M6 for about fifteen years (remember?) that I had somewhat set aside recently. It's back in action.

During the "Nuit des Ponts" organized for the 25th anniversary of the Fondation des Ponts, 7 projects were pitched for an exceptional fundraising event at the Grand Amphitheatre of the Sorbonne.

A thoughtful reflection on creation that I find incredibly well-crafted, mature, and sincere from a twenty-something who questions her drawing practice in the face of the world of social networks and constant entertainment. I learned a few things from it:

Last lockdown sketch. See you at the next pandemic.

It makes me chuckle.

Once upon a time, I was crazy about 3D. I created this teaser using Maya and thought I'd make a whole short film. I recently found this image on an old disk:

While sorting through old hard drives, I found this compilation of animations dating back to... well, the early 21st century:

I don't choose what I write.

One morning, I realize that my comedy-drama screenplay isn't progressing. The new scenes are dragging, predictable. Even the corrections I make here and there don't seem to be heading in the right direction. It's a mess.

However, without searching, three ideas for a comedy.

As I'm getting back to publishing dialogues, I thought it was a shame to have lost the one that had performed the best back in the days of The ShitScript. So, I rewrote it (hopefully better) based on some drafts:

Here's an image from my series Panic in Space!, which is currently in post-production:

Lately, I've been going back to the theater.

Yeah, I don't know what's gotten into me! Probably the onset of depression.

I've seen some fantastic stuff – including I Wish I Were Jeff Bezos which is currently playing, go check it out!

A few years ago, I started writing some absurd-existential dialogues on a website I named theShitScript.com (which no longer exists).

Somewhere between a comic strip and a screenplay, this format allowed me to share the absurd scenes that I didn't have the time or resources to film. I created about four or five of them, and they had a small success.

A small touch of the blues on the highway.

No reason. No illness. No new abyss in my life. Nothing to worry about more than usual.

Then I understood why: there was nothing exciting waiting for me in Paris. Neither upon arrival, nor that evening, nor in the upcoming week. Not an unpleasant week ahead – not at all – but nothing that made me impatient.

I returned to Squat 59 Rivoli by chance.

What an incredible place! What an atmosphere! What talents! Five floors of creativity open to the public. Bravo.

Before, I used to joke that only my mom read this blog.

Recently, I got proof that not even she does.

So when I promote an artist here, it's not like it's going to make a big difference or attract a crowd. But hey, it's a kind of journal. I jot down what I like.

And Sophie Le Cam's concert – just like her previous one – really, really impressed me.

Of course, you've been listening to this on repeat for years, while I, foolishly, have just been listening to the original – which is also very good, let's be clear about that.

But this version has something... charming. And rebellious at the same time.

I'm starting to think that only presence matters. That there's ultimately no such thing as a good or bad action, a good or bad decision: only good or bad reasons to act.

But first, what does it really mean to "be in the present"?

You probably don't know this, but for over a year (or a little less, I haven't done the math), I've been writing a journal.

Swamped before the September screening of Version 1 of the film for the Ponts et Chaussées. But between editing sequences, I stumbled upon this track – yes, I know you're already familiar with it, you always know everything.

It starts like a Western that's ending. Then it keeps going. That's what I like about it.

First, let me be clear: I'm not religious in the slightest.

Even though I was baptized, received communion, and went through all that, I dropped it all around the age of twelve, and the years have only solidified my rejection of organized religion.

That's completely unrelated, so I consider that I haven't broken my vow.