The glory of the living

A page from davidnoir.fr

Aiming for Existence

In search of a life less ordinary than life.

David Noir Production

Self-portrait in ruins form

I'm testifying from where I am. As a good archaeologist, I create my own ruin. The loneliness of the fields of childhood is not the same as the loneliness of the fields of adulthood.

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18 December 2014
08 January 2015

Where's Charlie? or cheap solidarity

Solidarity is not the display of single-mindedness. I will not be shouted any slogan that is not mine. Not Charlie tonight, not any other day.

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Ah the indignation! ... worship... punish... worship... punish...

How long will the indignation in its flamboyant expression last, when people start obeying and denying their identity again the very next day?

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11 January 2015
15 January 2015

"Freedom of expression" and repugnance

No, there is no such thing as "freedom of expression", just as there are limits on freedom, it's called the law ...

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Athée et humain, sans faire des histoires

I'm not going to tell you what it says, because I hope it doesn't tell you anything, nothing that's being said anyway. No stories.

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22 January 2015
18 November 2015

Air in the lungs and wind in the sails...

Enough to bivouac after the attacks and to take the air on a motorway area where you can park to enjoy the clear sky.

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Infirmity of puppets

In a society of puppets, it is natural to become puppets. It remains to be able to endow them with singular bodies and adequate heads.

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22 November 2015
04 February 2018

You're not my face-trp-post-container>

A little brutality in this world of poetry. No kidding. You don't really think I want to meet humans, do you? You're not my face. You're not my project.

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A platonic humour from our lands

Beyond the atrocious and useless deaths, the greatest victim of the ravages of the present era is a sense of humour.

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02 November 2020

Post attacks

One morning in November, I was awakened by a feeling of sadness in my rectum. And that was the beauty of the world. And it was the stupidity of the world. Both merged into one vivid, palpable tension. Something forbade itself to come out.