A couple of nights ago we were listening to some very fine (and famous) recordings of Schubert with Elina Buksa and Philippe Poissonnier. Philippe’s place demonstrates a phenomenal balance between random and precise, and also rustic and refined(with a stress on how far one can stretch it), and in regard of those recordings we were talking about how sometimes the beautiful and precious may become too perfect.
Now in Antibes strolling down it’s tiny streets and bathing in tender shades of yellow, pink, green and blue, I find it quite difficult to take any pictures of a place that is picture-perfect at every spot. Trying to buy a camera finally, but surprisingly it is no easy here at Côte d’Azur.
soundcoloursmell 