Lieuran-Cabrières, houses, I have been painting so many houses. These warm ochra yellow walls become magical around nine in the evening when the sun has just disappeared behind something, when the atmosphere gets filled with thym and rosmarin, when les cigales play their mechanical never ending tune. Houses that have not changed except a window more or less, and that will not change anymore. Never. Calming, consoling. And let me dream for a while that life is like that – always here and I'm in the middle of it.
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