BELLE_FLEUR

Life is but an empty dream!

alida.jolie@gmail.com (belle_fleur) — Wed, 01 Jul 2009 18:25:00 +0000

To my friend B

Tell me not, in mournful numbers
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers
and things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not it's goal;
Dust thou art; to dust returnest
Was not spoken of the soul

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

stranger # 2

alida.jolie@gmail.com (belle_fleur) — Sun, 28 Jun 2009 00:10:00 +0000

The stranger numero dos is called Savas. He came in the united states almost 30 years ago from a small village in Cypres. He doesn't call himself Greek, like some of the people from his region do. I met Savas while I went to buy a cup of coffee at Dunkin Donuts. I was looking around to find a place to sit, but all the tables were packed. I saw his table and I approached him, asking whether I could share the table with him. He was very pleasant and offered the chair across from him. As I sip my light and sweet coffee, he sits there quiet and taking his coffee, which is sugar free since he suffers from diabetes. I ask him a few questions and he tells me. He is a very gentle "old" man. I hate to say old, because he is in the same range that my dad is. Savas, used to work as a tailor for many many years. Now he is retired from his work and enjoys the retirement by walking around, sipping coffee with friends, spending time with his grandchildren, and sometimes going back to his country to visit his relatives.

Stranger # 3

alida.jolie@gmail.com (belle_fleur) — Mon, 15 Jun 2009 04:14:00 +0000

I was walking around my neighborhood and stopped at this store that I have always wanted to check and see what they offer. Inside I was greeted by a gentleman: a welcome with a big smile. Dresses and skirts displayed on the wooden walls. The usual girlish air around the textiles and clothes, of course a blue silk dress I am gazing at, “what’s the price?”, while the camera happened to be in my hands, as it does so often, which quite naturally brought the next question: “would you mind if I take a couple pictures of you…. and…. ask a few questions”? He says yes! “Few questions” about to last three hours listening to the story of this stranger.
His name was Jampa, which means love in Tibetan language. I didn’t have to ask him many questions because immediately he felt like he had to open up and share with me an amazing life story that very well could become a movie. He said he came from a village in Tibet. His family had suffered under the Chinese local government. They had been tortured and imprisoned for a very long time and he was raised by his grandma. His grandparent and his two brothers were killed since they were against the Chinese invasion. Due to this, the family and he himself underwent a calvary of suffering. As he was growing up, he was deprived of a normal childhood and even of the very basic needs. His meals would mainly be grass or some fruits from the trees. His German shepherd dog was killed in front of his eyes. He was just a kid, but he still remembered how resentful he felt toward the Chinese soldiers. He was so mad that he stole some guns from them and fired as a sign of protest. When he was a teenager he was imprisoned for about six months. The day he was released he wrote a letter telling the Chinese that “Chinese belongs to China, and Tibet belongs to Tibet”. He made some pamphlets and glued them around the neighborhood and the village where he lived. Soon after that, he was arrested by the police who gave him the verdict that next day he was going to be killed. The family pleaded and wrote letters to the local government to please release their son for only two hours so that they could see him and then they would send him back. The moment he went home, his father had arranged for him a truck to take the son away. The father blessed the son and gave him a white scarf as a symbol of fortune. Also, his father tells him to live his life away from his country where his life was in danger. Hidden in the merchandise boxes in the truck, he passed through the village, while the police halted the truck every 15 minutes to control it. The truck driver drove Jampa to the next village, where another truck awaited him. His destination was the border, but that didn’t come easily since the police was after him. After many different trucks rides, finally he was able to reach the border city, but the ordeal didn’t end there. He had to walk for more than three months through the mountains at night trying to hide from people and anyone that was behind his back. He crossed the border walking along the Himalayas, seeing dead people bodies covered in snow. He waved at the dead people thinking that they were alive, because they had food in their mouth and their eyes were open. He got scared when he realized that they were dead, but he kept on walking, without any security that he would make it, and with no food in his stomach. When he reached Nepal, he saw some shepherds and asked for food and help, but instead they handed him to the Nepali police. In return, the police showed their generosity by beating him, taking all of his money and imprisoning him. He was able to escape from the police and ran away in fear and anguish that he would be caught. Thankfully, he was able to get to the main road where he hitchhiked the buses to give him a ride until the next place. Jampa’s troubles seemed to never end as his journey of freedom seemed to be not as free as he had imagined. The bus drivers threw him out of the bus because he didn’t have the money to pay for the ticket. This went on for quite some time until he reached India. In India, there was an agency that tried to help the refugees coming from Tibet. During this time he met Dali Lama, who lives in India and tries to help the refugees. He and other refugees were given the option to go to school and get an education, but Jampa refused because he wanted to work. He was taken back to Nepal where he worked with people that make carpets and learned the business with Nepali people. He learned some of the language, made new friends and tried to make it into this new culture, but that wasn’t what his heart was after. Until one day he decided to go to the UN office and apply for an American visa. In his interview with the counselor he told him the real story of what has happened to him. While he was telling the truth, the other people that were waiting mocked and made fun of him, because he did not make up stories to fool the UN counselor. He walked away to have a cup of coffee and he thought to himself what a stupid man he was for being so honest and not telling some lies like the other people therein. The officer calls Jampa and says to him, why are you so sad? He tried to cover up his gloominess and said that he was doing fine forcing a smile on his face. The UN officer congratulated Jampa and told him that he was the only person that has been so truthful and open about his story. Jampa was granted the visa to come to the United States for about 6 months.
Jampa landed in JFK in 1999. He didn’t know anyone here nor had he any relatives. He had heard in Nepal, only the name of Queens. So, when the Bangladeshi cab driver asked him “where to”, he replied “to Queens”. The driver asked him ”where in Queens? Queens it’s pretty large” and Jampa responded “just anywhere in Queens”.
So, he was droped in Sunnyside, Queens. He had only one suitcase with him, and there he was, sitting and looking around this town where he didn’t know anyone. And there walked along this blonde girl that he coud tell she was from Tibet. He waved at her and she stopped to talk with him. The girl found out that he didn’t have anybody and offered him a place to spend the night. Next day he was able to take the train and stopped in China Town trying to find a Chinese employment agency. He spoke to the clerk, a woman, in Tibetan, Nepali, Indian and some Chinese as he did not speak any English. The woman sent him all the way to New Jersey. The new job that he was going to do was a dishwasher. Jampa had never done it before in his life. He said, his hands turned out white like chicken legs and his feet hurted so much from standing on his feet long hours. He wasn’t very fast at his job, but his boss liked him. He stayed for two weeks in New Jersey and then decided to move away because there were a lot of Chinese workers there giving him a hard time just because he was from Tibet.
He decided to go back to Queens, but he got lost and went astray many times on his way back “home”. One time he ended up in Coney Island, the next ride he ended up in Bronx, until he finally was able to recognize the Citibank Building, which is a trademark of Queens. Jumping out of joy he returned to the apartment of the blonde girl, who got very worried, because she thought something bad might have happened to him.
His life changed for better by living in the States. He was able to get his political asylum and establish himself with decent jobs. Everywhere he worked he was appraised and awarded for his hard work and strong work ethics. Currently, he is assisting the Tibetan community by teaching their kids to learn about their language and culture. Ever since he left Tibet, he hasn’t been able to return there. He told me that he keeps in touch with his family by emails or telephone. His brother buys multiple cell phone chips and after talking to Jampa, he throws them away in order to hide any traces of communicating with him.
With a smile on his face he finished his story and thanked me for listening to him. He shook my hand as I was saying goodbye to him, and he said “now, you’re like part of my family”. I was touched by his words and I thanked him many times for sharing this tremendous life story with me.

Stranger #1

alida.jolie@gmail.com (belle_fleur) — Tue, 09 Jun 2009 14:55:00 +0000

I have started this project called 100 strangers. One of my friends suggested and I am daring to photograph 100 people that I don't know.
My first stranger is called Emilio. He was sitting at the NY Library few weeks ago. I saw him as I was coming from the second floor of the library. He was lost into his world and i was asking myself to try or not to try ask this guy to photograph him. Usually, I would take shots of people without asking them. I know, I am bad, but by the time I go and ask people, the moment is gone and so is my chance to capture something that I will treasure for a life time.
Anyway, back to Emilio. I approach him and cordially I ask him to give me permission to photograph him. I say to him that I am starting this project and that would he be kind enough to allow me ask him few questions, and also take few shots of him.
To my surprise, he accepts the offer :) As i have a conversation with him, I find out that he has just landed to New York city and is trying to make it like everyone else that comes here. He is a photographer and also is studying to become an actor. Emilio is from Columbia and his English is very good, even though I enjoyed speaking in spanish to him, taking the advantage of the few words that i have learned while living in NY.
I am happy to say that my first stranger photoshoot went well :)
Thank you Emilio!

let it come in...

alida.jolie@gmail.com (belle_fleur) — Sat, 06 Jun 2009 18:27:00 +0000

chasing clouds

alida.jolie@gmail.com (belle_fleur) — Thu, 14 May 2009 14:31:00 +0000

To my Mom!!!

alida.jolie@gmail.com (belle_fleur) — Sun, 10 May 2009 04:38:00 +0000

Mother’s love

Her love is like an island
In life's ocean, vast and wide
A peaceful, quiet shelter
From the wind, the rain, the tide.
'Tis bound on the north by Hope,
By Patience on the West,
By tender Counsel on the South
And on the East by Rest.
Above it like a beacon light
Shine Faith, and Truth, and Prayer;
And thro' the changing scenes of life
I find a haven there.

Anonymous

to spring

alida.jolie@gmail.com (belle_fleur) — Mon, 04 May 2009 13:02:00 +0000

Happy Monday Everyone!

I've got NY in my Heart

alida.jolie@gmail.com (belle_fleur) — Wed, 29 Apr 2009 18:05:00 +0000

Vivaldi's Primavera...

alida.jolie@gmail.com (belle_fleur) — Mon, 20 Apr 2009 16:41:00 +0000

Degjojeni me kete: www.youtube.com/watch?v=50lmd0ngwPc

printemps

alida.jolie@gmail.com (belle_fleur) — Fri, 03 Apr 2009 17:08:00 +0000

*** - Dritan Mesuli

alida.jolie@gmail.com (belle_fleur) — Tue, 31 Mar 2009 15:34:00 +0000

M'thue perdite
-Asht ngrohte n'zemren tane!!!

pranvere n'buze e n'sy
buzeqeshja jote
njom rrajet e nji peme
qe rritet n'gjakun tem!!!

n'shplake t'dores
gjallon nji trendafil.

Asht zemra jote tek rreh!!!

30 Mars 2009

Still life...

alida.jolie@gmail.com (belle_fleur) — Fri, 27 Mar 2009 22:12:00 +0000

dAncing with the Birds...

alida.jolie@gmail.com (belle_fleur) — Tue, 17 Mar 2009 18:58:00 +0000

To Grandma

alida.jolie@gmail.com (belle_fleur) — Sun, 08 Mar 2009 17:22:00 +0000

(epitafi qe nuk gdhenda dot)

I will miss your smile
I will miss your touch
I will miss your voice
I will miss your hugs

I will miss your smell
I will miss your love
I will miss your strength
I will miss your hugs

I will miss your wisdom
I will miss your guidance
Will miss your embrace
I will miss your hugs

Ode to winter

alida.jolie@gmail.com (belle_fleur) — Thu, 05 Mar 2009 21:32:00 +0000

Have some tea...

alida.jolie@gmail.com (belle_fleur) — Wed, 28 Jan 2009 16:03:00 +0000

Brrr...it's winter time

alida.jolie@gmail.com (belle_fleur) — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 18:34:00 +0000

Me pak muzike...

alida.jolie@gmail.com (belle_fleur) — Mon, 12 Jan 2009 03:27:00 +0000

Happy Pomegranate Day!

alida.jolie@gmail.com (belle_fleur) — Mon, 22 Dec 2008 15:28:00 +0000

To all my friends that love pomegranate. Have a great week! :)

Gezuar 28-Nëntorin!!!

alida.jolie@gmail.com (belle_fleur) — Fri, 28 Nov 2008 06:23:00 +0000

Dua mëngjezet e Majit
Kur këndon bilbili i bukur
Kur fryn erëza e malit
Edhe qarku është i skuqur

Dua lulet të fushës-ë
Në mengjes kur janë plot me vesë
Doçkat e bardha të çupësë
Vete me vrap që t’i presë

Po, nga gjitha kto më parë
Dua më shumë Shqipërinë
Që të vejë puna mbarë
Edhe për jetë të ketë lirinë!

Dua natën, në verë
Kur të ndrijtin yjtë e artë
Kur fryn dhe tiri me ere
Dhe të prekë zemrën e zjarrtë

Zogjtë që më ligjërojnë
Nëpër lisat mbushur me fletë
Po sa gaz që mua më bëjnë
Për natyrën e vertetë

Po, nga gjitha kto më parë
Dua më shumë Shqipërinë
Që të vejë puna mbarë
Edhe për jetë të ketë lirinë!

Ode to Autumn - John Keats

alida.jolie@gmail.com (belle_fleur) — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 15:12:00 +0000

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,--
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

Re-shit...

alida.jolie@gmail.com (belle_fleur) — Mon, 15 Sep 2008 19:29:00 +0000

This is not Art!!!

alida.jolie@gmail.com (belle_fleur) — Thu, 31 Jul 2008 15:39:00 +0000

I just received this email from a friend. I find it appalling that people that deal with art of any kind would do such a thing. Horrible. If you feel that this is wrong, please sign the petition below!

"An 'artist' from Costa Rica, named Guillermo Habacuc Vargas, abused a starving dog as a work of art until the dog was dead on display. He did not allow anyone to give the animal food or water. And... nobody has done anything to stop this poor animal before dying...

Guillermo Habacuc Vargas was chosen to represent his country in the 'Bienal Centroamericana Honduras 2008'.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/70514882@N00/1832502541/

Please sign the below petition to stop Guillermo from exhibiting in the Central American Biennial of Arts:

http://www.petitiononline.com/ea6gk/petition.html

Thelleza qe shkel mbi vese...

alida.jolie@gmail.com (belle_fleur) — Sun, 27 Jul 2008 23:01:00 +0000

Për adhuruesit e muzikës polifonike labe ju përshendes me këtë këngë kënduar aq bukur nga Grupi i Himarës. Një nga këngët e mia të preferuara. Harmonia e zërave është aq e bukur sa të bën për vete. Uroj që ta pëlqeni.