Mégalithe 1-4 by PhG47

Vue • Atmosphere/Mood • posted on Mar 20, 2012

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Description

L'aube n'était pas levée. Quand j'entendis un bruit de pas, presque aussi légers que celui d'un animal... J'ouvris les yeux et sa voix me supplia de les refermer... Depuis le seuil de la porte, elle me regardait et je compris qu'elle s'en allait... J'entendis le craquement de chacune des marches quand elle descendit l'escalier, le grincement des charnières quand elle referma la porte de la maison... Je l'imaginais courant dans le pré pour rejoindre la vieille pierre... Cela faisait longtemps que ce lieu l'attirait par sa présence, sa force,... et par la douceur qui s'en dégageait... La vieille pierre se trouvait sur un point positif; un croisement de deux lignes telluriques. C'était comme une antenne qui captait l'énergie du lieu pour la faire rayonner autour d'elle,... pour repousser les lignes de ce maillage... J'ai toujours su qu'elle aimait cette étrange sensation de pénétrer dans un espace vide,... de franchir cette sorte d'enceinte invisible... Elle était là, à l'entrée du sanctuaire, et depuis le seuil de cette nouvelle porte, elle me regardait... L'odeur de sa peau collait à mes draps... Dans le salon, le canapé portait encore la trace du moment où elle s'y était assise,... et une petite mort était entrée,... une petite mort qui se promenait dans la maison... Je n'avais pas pu me rendormir, et pourtant je m'étais forcé de rester au lit le plus longtemps possible, sans ouvrir les yeux, sans rien écouter des bruits extérieurs,... je m'étais inventé une histoire... Une histoire où elle était descendue dans la cuisine, préparer du café. Où nous aurions partagé le petit déjeuner en parlant du reste de la journée à venir... J'aurais visité avec elle tous les lieux que nous connaissions, comme si c'était la première fois... Nous aurions repris notre promenade, au rythme des heures qui passent lentement... Nos mains ne se seraient pas quittés,... et peu importe,... si dans cette histoire,... à la fin, elle s'en allait... Bonne journée, semaine... à tous. Have a good day, week... Thank you for your comments and your support, which are always welcome. Philippe Various objects modelled with "Silo2.2", the woman with "Poser Pro 2012", the scene and the render in global radiosity "GR" with "Vue 10 Infinite", no post pro. For more details concerning products and resources used, please consult sponsor: PhG-Art

Comments (8)

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PhG47

2:44AM | Tue, 20 March 2012

Text in english... The dawn was not raised. When I heard a noise of step, almost so light as that of the animal... I opened eyes and his voice begged me to close them... Since the threshold of the door, she looked at me and I understood that she went away... I heard the crackle of each of the stairs when she went down the stair, the grating of hinges when she closed the door of the house... I imagined him running in the meadow to join the old stone... It had been a long time since this place attracted him by its presence, its force,... and by the sweetness which got free of it... The old stone was on a positive point; a crossing of two telluric lines. It was as an antenna which got the energy of the place to make it shine around her,... to repel the lines of this meshing... I always knew that she liked this strange sensation to penetrate into a free space,... to cross this sort of invisible surrounding wall... She was there, in the entrance of the sanctuary, and since the threshold of this new door, she looked at me... The smell of the skin stuck on my sheets... In the lounge, the sofa still carried the track since she sat there,... and a small death had entered,... a small death which walked in the house... I did not have been able to fall asleep again, and nevertheless I had forced to stay in the bed as long as possible, without opening eyes, without listening to anything outside noises,... I had invented a story... A story where she had come down in the kitchen, to prepare some coffee. Where we would have shared the breakfast by speaking besides about the day to come... I would have visited with her all the places which we knew, as if it was the first time... We would have resumed our walk, at the rate of the hours which pass slowly... Our hands would not have left,... and it doesn't much matter,... if in this story,... at the end,... she went away...

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fabriced

3:28AM | Tue, 20 March 2012

Sublime!!

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fallen21

3:47AM | Tue, 20 March 2012

Amazing scene!

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jgkane

4:07AM | Tue, 20 March 2012

A beautiful composition, Philippe. Nice lighting, pose and tussocks of grass. Good images always spark / ignite our imagination to give birth to good stories, from the heart. Warm regards, from a chilly Glasgow, Ecosse, John.

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