Writing stories, with words, with lights, from true people

  • The old postcard.

    Location: Christchurch NZ (2013).

    Computerised letters, posts and “likes” will never replace the old postcard dropped in the mailbox by the courier.
    I mean I could spend my day looking at pics and stories on online social networks but nothing will ever replace the hand written piece of carton chosen with love by the sender.

    What people choose to share at the back of it is another story, some describe their holiday, some their thoughts and other write a little something that make your day.

    Now here is a postcard from a friend who at the time left the city to go further south, the last I heard from him, he found a little job as a cook in a fish’n chips.

    Thanks for letting me know what’s happening on your side and make my day!

    Vince boisgard (France)

  • Way to learn

    Location: South Western Australia, Manjimup. (2010)

    After turning off the main road, we arrived in this place. This working hostel based down a dirt road in the middle of the blue-gum trees. We made our way to the office, confirmed our arrival as we had previously called and spoken to a Naomi and book for 2 persons.
    Papers signed and rent paid for the first week, we decided to meet the residents staying in.
    It is always good fun to meet new peoples and we were pretty excited about it.
    The thing was that the place was pretty empty as everyone were at work and the first and only person we met was Dan, a dude from England who actually just arrived earlier in the same day.
    We had a good talk; usual introducing questions and then came 6pm on our watch, the time when all the workers came back from work. A wave a individuals covered with dirt, looking all tired and happy in the mean time! Happy to be back here, after what seam to be “a shit day”!

    In front of the shower, a queue was forming and around the pot belly, a circle of people cracking beers, talking about their day. Later on, after we spent some time chatting, drinking, sitting in the circle made of couch around the pot belly; everyone had diner, were clean and on their way to bed. Only Dan, Jaak (an Estonian dude) and I were still sitting there.

    It was silent for a moment, then Dan looked at Jaak and asked:

    "So did you learned English in school before you came?"

    And instantly Jaak said:

    "No, I red some magazines in the fucking plane!"

    Vince boisgard (France)

  • Self tended

    Location: Kuala Lumpur (2013)

    There I was in a small mamak in the centre of Kuala Lumpur; a local joint which smelt like nasi lemak, lemonade and a hint of barbecue.

    I wasn’t doing much. Just working on a report that was due… well, yesterday.
    So intently was I focused on my paper that my eyes took on a life of their own and started gazing longingly at the people passing me by.

    The slow people, the tourists, the blue-striped-shirts-and-pink-ties people, the mumbling-incohesively people, when suddenly my ears opened up to the sounds of a male voice booming, “I like your hair”.

    Errr. umm. 20 milliseconds have rolled past. What do I say?

    "Thanks, I grew them myself".

    Liza Bass (Bangladesh/ Russia)

  • A good catch

    Location: Darwin, Australia (2012)

    There is something you should know about me: if you happen to go fishing, I’m the man you should take with you!

    That was it, after a hard week we were off! The week end just started and the weather was quite nice: blue sky, no cloud on sight.
    Steve and I decided to go fishing around Darwin, we loaded the car with the rodes, some bait and a few beers. Off we went to spend a wonderful afternoon and surely catch some diner.
    Thought, there is something I should tell you: there are many thing I can do but fishing is and has always been something that don’t hook up with me. I mean if someone will snap a line in a flat/ calm water pool with sand at the bottom, it will be me for sure.
    I know that I’m bad at fishing but I still enjoy going for it and spent some quality relax time.

    So here we were in a tiny harbour, casting the lines from the pontoon, cracking a few beers, waiting for the fish to bite…
    It’s been 2 or 3 hours now and I still haven’t had any of those fishes biting on my bait, as for Steve: he already pulled 2 fishes and even a crab with his cage that he drowned when we arrived. Not that I’m jaleous, I know it myself: I’m a great fisherman! But honestly, I’m getting tired of being sitting under the burning sun without any excitation going on for me. I suggested that we stayed for 30 more minutes and take off, Steve agreed and casted his line for a last shot. I put everything down, that was it for me, no more! I was just upset! All I did was watching Steve’s piece of cork floating on the surface for 15 minutes when suddenly, it sank once. Steve pulled the line, bringing the monster up to the surface and when he did; he brought up…

    …an old half rusty can of soda from the bottom of the harbour!

    Vince boisgard (France)

  • The dude who almost shot me!

    Location: Christchurch airport (NZ), 2013.

    I was working in the duty free shop. In between selling drinks and smokes to the departing persons, my actual role was to manage the tech area. My shift was 4am-11am and that was the most boring time to be working in an airport!
    In this frame time, only 4 flights were taking off and most of the travellers were just buying beverages and smokes or just passing by.
    Trying to open a cool conversation with any of the customers is quite a hard task to do, especially early morning. Trust me on this one!

    That day, a dude was looking at the cameras.
    I stepped froward and opened the conversation:

    (Me) - Hi there, how is it going?
    (Him) - Good, I mean it’s early morning but I feel alright. What about you?

    I could tell him that I was miserable and this place was annoying, that I’d rather be back to my place and forget about all of this place and what was happening here. But really, it wasn’t appropriate so I simply carried on and said:

    (Me) - I’m fantastic! Can I help you with something?
    (Him) - Not really, I was just looking. I’m a photographer myself and I like to be updated about the new stuff.

    Since he was a brother form the photographic middle, the conversation went on for about 30 minutes. During the exchange, I got to know that he was American, actually from Dallas, Texas and was flying back home after a little stay in New Zealand.

    The call for his flight was just made and he was time for him to go, he saluted me and while leaving, handed me his professional card.
    As I watched him going, I barely looked at the card and red:

    "Dan Brown, photographer. Dallas, Texas, USA".

    And as I flicked it over:


    Vince boisgard (France).


    Me in a hammock under the shade of the palm trees