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Oh so very lovely ...... Mark

You're absolutely right. I left aside all irony and the squeaks that are familiar to me for this evocation of my father's work. He is a very sweet person, very quiet, who tirelessly travels his country paths with his camera on his shoulder. When he was young, he took a lot of street photos, in Montparnasse, in Paris, in the suburbs, scenes of daily life near where we lived. It was the 50s, 60s, 70s, a time today very distant so much the cities have changed here in France. In the 1970s, in France, the physiognomy of some suburbs was still almost rural, often working-class neighbourhoods, a very popular France, immortalised by the great post-war photographers, humanist and realistic. My father, some of whose photos were used for press publications because he was in an agency, belongs to a generation younger than this current, but his expression was still impregnated with it. Today, of more fragile health, his approach is calm, as I said. Paths, nature, and this small plant world has become the theatre of its colourist, impressionist expression, and its portraits are no longer humans but flowers, leaves, trees. With this in mind when writing my notes, I could not imagine anything other than a lullaby. The Lydian is very soft, very posed to my ears, despite the attraction towards the fifth that adds like a sensitive second in the scale. A doubly sensitive to express sensitive things... That's it, in any case thank you and thank you again for your beautiful comment!