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Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
A soft hush settles over the city as evening folds its gray-blue blanket into the streets. In that in-between hour, the language itself seems to loosen—consonants round into small coins of sound, vowels glide like silk. You drift through a dream that smells faintly of fresh croissants and rain on iron railings, where conversations happen in the warm, exact cadence of French.
You find yourself in a narrow apartment above a bakery. Light spills from a window onto a wooden table where a notebook lies open. The handwriting is yours, but the sentences arrive fully formed, as if the words were waiting in the air. Je me souviens of a summer you never lived: lavender fields bending under a small, clear sun; the distant murmur of waves; the simple ritual of buying bread from a vendor who knows your name.
In this dream, time is patient. A café chair holds its place at the corner of a street that curves like a comma. Strangers pass with the ease of people who understand the unspoken rules of a language that favors nuance over haste. You overhear phrases like petits bonheurs and s’il te plaît whispered between the clink of cups. Each phrase is a key that opens a moment—an apology that becomes a promise, a compliment that lingers like the aftertaste of dark chocolate.
Dreaming in French is less about fluency and more about texture. It is about how the language frames thought—how negation can be gentle, how questions can be invitations rather than intrusions. It lets you rehearse tenderness: murmured Je t’aime that exists between quotation marks and reality, gestures of affection that are precise and measured, like the pour of wine into a stemmed glass.
When you wake, the phrases linger—soft fragments that resist tidy translation. You carry with you a new sensitivity to rhythm: the short, decisive beat of la vie quotidienne, the drawn, hospitable cadence of an old chanson. In memory, the city remains slightly out of reach, a silhouette traced in words. And sometimes, in the quiet of your own kitchen, you find yourself saying a simple word aloud—bonjour, merci, peut-être—and the sound seems to make the world tilt, just enough to let the dream back in.
In this evocative painting, a dream unfolds where you find yourself speaking French with effortless grace. Soft, swirling colors blend into one another, capturing the fluidity of language and the mystery of the subconscious. The figures in the scene are blurred, symbolizing the fleeting nature of dreams and the intangible beauty of expression. This artwork invites you to lose yourself in a moment where language transcends barriers and imagination takes flight
Multi media painting, 18” x 24” beautifully framed by Sacramento Frameworks!
A soft hush settles over the city as evening folds its gray-blue blanket into the streets. In that in-between hour, the language itself seems to loosen—consonants round into small coins of sound, vowels glide like silk. You drift through a dream that smells faintly of fresh croissants and rain on iron railings, where conversations happen in the warm, exact cadence of French.
You find yourself in a narrow apartment above a bakery. Light spills from a window onto a wooden table where a notebook lies open. The handwriting is yours, but the sentences arrive fully formed, as if the words were waiting in the air. Je me souviens of a summer you never lived: lavender fields bending under a small, clear sun; the distant murmur of waves; the simple ritual of buying bread from a vendor who knows your name.
In this dream, time is patient. A café chair holds its place at the corner of a street that curves like a comma. Strangers pass with the ease of people who understand the unspoken rules of a language that favors nuance over haste. You overhear phrases like petits bonheurs and s’il te plaît whispered between the clink of cups. Each phrase is a key that opens a moment—an apology that becomes a promise, a compliment that lingers like the aftertaste of dark chocolate.
Dreaming in French is less about fluency and more about texture. It is about how the language frames thought—how negation can be gentle, how questions can be invitations rather than intrusions. It lets you rehearse tenderness: murmured Je t’aime that exists between quotation marks and reality, gestures of affection that are precise and measured, like the pour of wine into a stemmed glass.
When you wake, the phrases linger—soft fragments that resist tidy translation. You carry with you a new sensitivity to rhythm: the short, decisive beat of la vie quotidienne, the drawn, hospitable cadence of an old chanson. In memory, the city remains slightly out of reach, a silhouette traced in words. And sometimes, in the quiet of your own kitchen, you find yourself saying a simple word aloud—bonjour, merci, peut-être—and the sound seems to make the world tilt, just enough to let the dream back in.
In this evocative painting, a dream unfolds where you find yourself speaking French with effortless grace. Soft, swirling colors blend into one another, capturing the fluidity of language and the mystery of the subconscious. The figures in the scene are blurred, symbolizing the fleeting nature of dreams and the intangible beauty of expression. This artwork invites you to lose yourself in a moment where language transcends barriers and imagination takes flight
Multi media painting, 18” x 24” beautifully framed by Sacramento Frameworks!