Happiness through the eye of a needle by marcopol

Poser • Atmosphere/Mood • posted on May 06, 2020

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D’après Anton Dorph, Jeune femme de pêcheur attendant le retour de son mari, 1867 Pour Alain (3DClassics) qui m'a fait découvrir ce peintre, pour Kordouane, et pour Gisela Son intérieur était arrangé à son image : modeste, propre et coquet. Ayant reçu peu d’instruction, elle savait à peine lire, mais la grâce lui avait donné l’intelligence du cœur ; ainsi, elle comprenait bien des choses à demi-mot. C’était un instant de paix, sa poitrine lui rappelait que bébé avait pris goulument son repas, et dormait du sommeil du juste, là, tout près. La soupe de poisson mijotait dans l’âtre, la table était mise, elle avait du temps pour elle. Aussi prit-elle son ouvrage, broder lui permettait d’attendre le retour de son mari, marin pêcheur. Ce n’était pas un homme de manières, mais c’était un homme bon, qui savait même se montrer affectueux, malgré ses mains abîmées par le travail. Elle avait entrouvert la fenêtre donnant sur la mer, pour mieux guetter son retour. Une brise iodée lui rapportait le bruit du ressac et le cri des mouettes. En réajustant une mèche de ses cheveux, elle se dit que le bonheur pouvait bien, parfois, passer par le chas d’une aiguille. Merci pour votre visite et vos commentaires. After Anton Dorph, A fisherman’s young wife awaiting her husband’s return from sea, 1867 For Alain (3DClassics) who introduces me this painter, for Kordouane, and for Gisela Her interior was arranged in her image: modest, clean and pretty. Having received little education, she barely knew how to read, but grace had given her the intelligence of the heart; so she understood a lot of things in half a word. It was a moment of peace, her chest reminded her that baby had greedily taken his meal, and was sleeping the sleep of the righteous, there, very close. The fish soup was simmering in the hearth, the table was set, she had time for herself. So she took her work, embroidering allowed her to wait for the return of her husband, a fisherman. He was not a man of manners, but he was a good man, who even knew how to be affectionate, despite his hands damaged by work. She had half-opened the window overlooking the sea, to better watch his return. An iodized breeze brought back the sound of the surf and the cry of the seagulls. By readjusting a lock of her hair, she told herself that happiness could sometimes go through the eye of a needle. Thank you for the view and your comments.

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Mekheke

3:23AM | Wed, 06 May 2020

Superbe image!

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Happiness through the eye of a needle by marcopol

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