People like me do love maps. But are maps real? Maybe one follows a path that only exist on a map but not in reality, trying to make the unknown familiar to be able to proceed.

Finesse22 - posté le 16-01-2006 à 06:29:34  

Est-ce que vous pensez que St-François d'Assise pouvait converser avec des animaux et les comprendre ? Ou bien qu'il souffrait d'un trouble mental, comme la schizophrénie ?

atom55 - posté le 16-01-2006 à 10:23:18

Il y a quelques temps, une équipe de Japonais a mis au point un collier qui est censé  "traduire"  les miaulements... Mais tu sais, les personnes qui ont l'habitude de vivre avec des animaux, avec un chat ou un chien par exemple, finissent par être capable de reconnaitre tel ou tel type de miaulement du chat quand il a faim, ou quand il a mal, quand il est content,ou quand il veut sortir etc...

Blueangel - posté le 19-01-2006 à 19:51:15  

Bonjour,
 
tout dépend de ce que l'on entend par "parler". Un habitué peut parfaitement "dialoguer" avec un oiseau sur des thèmes courants ( "je suis là", je suis content", "c'est mon territoire", "ou es tu"). Les équipes spécialisés ont pû "décrypter" les principaux signes sonores émis par les pingouins. La science est par contre souvent très en retard par rapport a l'autochtone qui se base sur une expérience ancestrale et sur une vrai sensibilité.

Prolog - posté le 19-01-2006 à 19:59:56

Le cas de St François d'Assise a été considéré comme "spécial" davantage pour sa bonté envers les animaux je pense, à une époque où les gens avaient d'autres soucis que la mémère d'aujourd'hui et son petit-chien-adoré.

Yesterday we spent a few hours visiting the Kerguelen islands (also called Desolation islands) on inamediapro.fr (sorry, restricted access), because there is a 3 months artist residence that has just opened there. It's one of the last place in the world where it takes time to go: no planes, no city, no airport, 2 weeks on the ocean to reach this extraordinary area. The last maps have been completed recently; we saw a TV program with a cartographer giving a lake his wife's name, Michèle. In the 1950's, Port aux Français inhabitants released a couple of cats for killing rats and mice in this small base. Now, there are about 8 to 10 000 wild cats on the island. And they eat annually one million bird eggs. Rabbits also grew exponentially after having been introduced by humans, eating the precious Kerguelen cabage, a very rare species full of vitamine C. This is the only place in the world where you can see elephant seals, penguins and cats together.

It was funny, to see how, 35 years later, so many people left the cinema room, as if we were in 1975, as if the porno people from 1975 could not accept the terms of Marguerite Duras contract, a contract that's still difficult to assume, probably much more today, even if Marguerite has become a « brand », as solid artists become brands, and some people come because of the smell of brand, not because of the smell of art. Yes, it's difficult to keep the eyes open, to not fall asleep, to not feel overwhelmed by boredom, flattened by slowness, nothingness, but it is precisely because of these features that it is a very special piece of art. The people who left the room are from the beat era, Marguerite is from an other world, an other pace.

Far from the place where you were born, you think of it without nostalgia, you see things, history, architecture, people, culture, with the right eye, like an easily moved stranger. This is how I see the frontier, the German border in Alsace-Lorraine (1871-1918) that determined my ancestors life: 4056 landmarks, running from Luxemburg to Swiss. About 280 kilometers long, a walk to make one day.

I was born under a wandrin' star
I was born under a wandrin' star
Wheels are made for rolling, mules are made to pack
I've never seen a sight that didn't look better looking back
I was born under a wandrin' star

Mud can make you prisoner and the plains can bake you dry
Snow can burn your eyes, but only people make you cry
Home is made for coming from, for dreams of going to
Which with any luck will never come true
I was born under a wandrin' star
I was born under a wandrin' star

Do I know where hell is, hell is in hello
Heaven is goodbye forever, its time for me to go
I was born under a wandrin' star
A wandrin' wandrin' star

(Mud can make you prisoner and the plains can bake you dry)
(Snow can burn your eyes, but only people make you cry)
(Home is made for coming from, for dreams of going to)
(Which with any luck will never come true)
(I was born under a wandrin' star)
(I was born under a wandrin' star)

When I get to heaven, tie me to a tree
For I'll begin to roam and soon you'll know where I will be
I was born under a wandrin' star
A wandrin' wandrin' star