The city gate in Duras
Beautiful and cruel lover of mortals, time calls to memories. Remember when in the 12th century, this building was surrounded by its protective vassals, a horde of ramparts! And look at the today, still so proud, who reigns alone as a tyrant over the village of Duras, with a ticking tick. Under its pyramidal cap, the clock tower takes on a pharaonic look. Remember all those prestigious centuries that have grazed its walls, strutted under this Romanesque arcade, looked up at the clatter of time! Remember all those lovers who passed this door, hand in hand, laughing at the clock, swearing by the eternity of their mad passion! O Tempora ! O Mores !
What sumptuous arrogant vestiges of the past which still drink with complacency the fleeting steps of passers-by. A minute goes by, a meeting, then oblivion. Ignorance in the flight, indifference of the beings who rub shoulders ... Oh sad fate that to be the silent witness of so many passages. A good word, hi! If the clock still proclaims the hours and the tower stands so majestically, it is so that you deign to listen to this voice for which the archives of grazed beings have vanished in the desert of its silence, but which in its strong interior keep away from the curious or impostors, a myriad of happy memories. On the sleeping walls lies a halo of experience, of minutes passed, of sweet memories of the country.
Dong Dong… 7:30 pm has just rang the bell. The star painted the stone walls with its pale red light. The suns extended in the evening, of a universal consensus, are eternal moments. So that the night never sets in your home, and that time remains suspended at dawn, under an azure orange light, put this work on your happy walls, so that the gaiety, the angelic smiles resonate, and the imposing memory of a monument of beautiful mysterious centuries. Oh time will suspend its flight, and the auspicious hours will continue their course.
|Location||Rue Paul Persil, Duras en Lot-et-Garonne (France)|
|Support||300g watercolor paper|