There, behind the mosque murid, the grove of trees, does me they say, is Mauritania.
Nothing to do with the assigned territory, the Natural Park Scarpe-Escaut Laporte and Hainaut. And yet ...
The confluence is there, too. The Senegal River receives the backwater of Djousse such as swelling of the Scheldt scarpe. A sail pass, a canoe awaits Armentières, that the time softened, but increased the Scarpe, a sudden gaff sail and paddle. If the varnish attached blades did not crack ...
But I'm here and carry with me the images of snow, fresh, barely a week, I put my tent, one word and one territory: Mauritania. At Mortagne-du-Nord. A tent disposable, nothing to do with the real Mauritanian tent.
The question is the same, here or elsewhere. Territory. Move it. The goal is not to arrive, I have nowhere to go, no workshop, I wander.
The goal is not to arrive but to travel, open.
be transported through the territory. Transport. Change mode to change the view, change the game. See otherwise. Probably. The capricious old Terrot of 1953, a wooden canoe probably older, a bedroom nomadic people carrier, a bicycle, a balloon ...
Here the camel, dunes, and Maurice Jarre at the top ... I'm not in any desert, I sway with the Seven Pillars of Wisdom (never played), and the silhouette of Lawrence of Arabia, there beside me. What is this territory which binds everything? Where everything is probably also reads ... as the blog title "No haven for" namesake of a story written road a few years ago, for me, last century. The name of a district which grew jersey Lawrence of Arabia. And that is found here, between two sand dunes orange. I am not yet in Arabia. I'm on the back of a camel. I am elsewhere. 
Unless I'm there ...
And if that is the case, the notion of Territories Business is a challenge. A challenge for the individual. The rest is social. A series of things that a body has in its history, in his gestures, in his report to the world because he fell there and not elsewhere. And that this body, he lugs around from one place to another. And body loads, independently of everything he encounters. And feeds ... Like the "Songlines" Australian aborigines, singing tracks written over the moments over the road. Where at least the idea that I'm doing this song for him like all the moments lived, resonant del'histoire complete the wearer, placing a single point in mapping the way outlined.
It is said also that, if unfortunately, some were to be forgotten, the holder of the song incomplete life would lose ...
"Out brief candle ..."
