My name is Lilou Sticks and for the moment, I have nowhere to call home.


So everyday, I read, take pictures, watch films, eat cinnamon buns and cookies, go to museums, drink blue water, walk, I walk a lot, a whole lot, look at mirrors, listen to music, touch fabrics, taste and smell everything around me.


This is how I am trying to remember where I come from.

If you feel the same way I do, let’s try to find our homes together.

Wednesday, 23 March 2011

Ceci n'est pas un bol.


The chef from the café under my house gave me a present yesterday. Do you know what he gave me?
A bowl. A mixing bowl.

Zouzi looked so disappointed, he said:
“That’s what he gave you? A bowl?”

But I told him:

Zouzi don’t be silly, this is not just a bowl.

It is a hat.
That makes music when you bang it. 






It is a step, if you can’t reach something.




It is an umbrella when it is raining.



It is a swimming pool for small people.




And most importantly it is a hiding place.





Zouzi didn’t seem too convinced, because when I finished explaining he walked off. But I know where to find him next time we play hide and seek.
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