Archives for July 2019

Melody and wafting clouds across Geneva.

I knew the way to the Picasso exhibition. My ballroom-sized living hall occupied most of the 8th floor apartment at Chateau San Sein, Rue de Vendome, Geneva 3.

I hosted several displays of famous artists, discreetly and with great security.

The plan was to secure a joint Dali and Lichtenstein show in the height of summer.

Meanwhile, the fountain sprayed reassuringly onto the lake.

Macro passion and micro mining, shining armor (armour in quaint old England) and the knights of the sisters of bold type.

Some things seemed different. No water cooler and yet an enormous vat of celery juice always refilled, natural artificial light and hugely well known and widely consumed niche-nurturing.

The stock market was the subject told in story form to the 4 year old students. Most laughed at what they thought to be a patronizing pulpit.

It took so many years to learn so little. Now we use accelerated questioning and as a result, stand a chance of being a little bit wise.

The chance to play in the yard was unimaginably exciting.

Having been stuck indoors for over a week, the light, the old shed, the rocks we would jump from one to the other, the grass verges which were just grass patches but we knew no better, the old rusting metal objects we thought were space rockets and so much more to enjoy.

The sun set on the yard and we gathered round the fireplace indoors. Time for old stories and new beginnings.

There is a way to view things at an angle that is practiced in a monastery by monks of a new order.

The angle is a closely guarded secret.

Students spend thirteen months either in one stretch or divided into two visits, to learn the angles.

Some slightly nefarious characters also use “the angles”, but they are not the same, not one bit.

One wonders, does it really take so long to learn? In any case, the views from the monastery are magnificent.

It was always the velvet pouch the gems were delivered in on that famed day, that pouch was more treasured and loved than the extraordinary sparkling jewels.

Years later, at the age of thirty-three, the pouch was still in good but well-handled condition.

But who owned what?

Was the owner of the pouch in their mid-thirties the same person as the owner of the gems?

A thought, an important question, and we may just possibly, discover the answer one day!