There's a similar shot somewhere of me gooning over a plate of snails and I have to admit this greyish-brown sludge is infinitely preferable, especially given my Scottish roots.
Not that my porridge today is anything like what my dad made it, but that's another story.
Just one more thing as I get back into this self-portrait palaver, that this isn't quite the snap-happy selfie craze you might think it is. Oh no.
In fact, I started recording my imminent demise quite a few years ago, and well before the word 'selfie' was even invented. Yes, I'm that old.
So this was always intended as both an artistic project (trying to make every shot artistically unique) and as some sort of future memorial to the bunch of brain cells and bacteria that make (or made, as the case may be as you read these words) the human boing known as Sabbath Willuth, or pixeldust to that effect. It's fun!
This is gonna be an Insta-fest from here on coz I started focusing... on square format pics suitable for that platform but not only.
In fact I adopted the square shape as an experiment to be in harmony with my paintings which are all square (or squares of squares, go see) at the moment, or at that moment to me more precise.
Hopefully my painting days and ways will return shortly, as I miss them. I recently did some 'art-therapy' sessions which were fun and also thought-provoking. More on that too in the weeks and months to come.
Well now. It would seem, on careful consultation of the date of my last My Mystic Me post, that the last time I was moved to share my miserable mug with you was approximately two years and seven months ago, on the 22nd of December, 2013 to be precise.
Wow. Doesn't time fly when you're not doing much of anything? That's gotta stop, and stuff's gotta start, and they starts here, mark my merry words.
I'm on a roll. That must be what 50 years on the planet does to you. The mid-life crisis, which in France is supposed to happen in your 40s, seems to have passed me blissfully by. Either that, or I was so crisis-ridden already that I didn't notice any different.
So let's get this show back on the road with one of the lights of my life, a certain young man who bears strikingly similar, well, pullovers to me.
It's good old (new) line 14, of course, with me right up there at the front of the train. Hey, I'll have to take some pics from the back for a change, now there's a thought.
The magic is that you have a pretty good reflection of yourself and, if you're lucky, a couple of innocent bysitters, and then there's this crazy tunnel and sometimes trains whizzing towards you at the speed of light!
A double vision, a tunnel vision that's second to none. And it's kinda scary to be plastered up against the front windshield as the train thunders along. You just hope they got the tracks right... ;~S
I'm currently reading a book called Touché, or 'Why Britain and France are so different', and it's true.
They are different. My make up (and my iPhone case while it lasts) tell me to Keep Calm & Carry On, which is what I'm diligently trying to do as I type.
This was taken in the soon-to-be-spanking-brand-new Les Halles shopping centre. They're covering up the works with all manner of bright shiny nonsense and suchlike. Thought it made a good backdrop. Mr. Calm, that's me! ;~S