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Articles by à Orange
being the hero of our own lives
Hineni (הִנְּנִי) is a Hebrew word meaning "Here I am". Beyond that, however, it conveys a profound sense of total presence, availability, and readiness to respond to a call or even a divine invitation. It is a declaration of fully offering oneself, signifying a deep and emotional commitment rather than just physical presence. I started out writing here for me. I had been a writer all of my life, but never owned being that, living that.
The Old Man and The Butterfly
The quintessential country house in a hamlet in Cambridgeshire. A study with a leather-bound mahogany desk and modern overhead lamp, dripping with glass and chrome like stalactites, each clasping written sheets of paper. Views into a garden, with pristine lawns and lavender poking itself up towards the sunlight, like the beak of a starling, searching for food. And in this house lies memory, loss, longing and hope. An old man. A collector of yellow butterflies.
Written in The Stars: of Tanabata and Redemption
Thirteen years ago yesterday, 7th July 2012, I celebrated the Japanese ‘Star Festival’ of Tanabata with my soon-to-be Japanese bride. Tanabata celebrates the one day a year that Orihime and Hikoboshi (represented by the stars of Vega and Altair) could meet. For the rest of the year they are separated by the Milky Way, but on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month, they are re-united.
‘Rahmanut’. Imperfect reflection | by A Kloppwork Orange | Jul, 2025 | Medium
Imperfect reflection Unique and forgiven Luminous, loving Trapped not in distress Mistress of mine Her limitless beauty Now shining less bright Hidden perceptions Yet never forgot Shadow jay, trilling birdsong Beguiling, enchanting Forgiven for all Laid to rest on his throne That light that was stolen Returneth anew White tinged, turquoise hue Like the rising of dawn Familiar, true Six sixes since rolled Mast full, I survived Escaped from your thrall From the rise and the fall Mantle...
‘Here I am’: the path to everlasting love
A Kloppwork Orange · Follow 3 min read · -- Along the path to self-love I have stumbled and fallen, taken twists and turns, had great fun and misadventure, and at times scratched my head wondering ‘Where next?’. The road has run through self-compassion, self-acceptance and self-belief. Hineni / Here I Am The Hebrew word ‘Hineni’ is most famously used by Abraham as he declares to God ‘Here I am’.
‘The sun is setting: for now at least’
September is here. The sun has set on the madness and mayhem of this summer. Just as the sun is setting on one of the coldest summers in the last ten years or so. I keep trying to consign the past few months to the past. Some days are easier than others. Today is another tough start to the day in that regard. One painful reminder is the beautiful briefcase that got swiped — replete with brand new iPad and laptop — whilst I, stoned, left it on the street next to my car.
Redemption: of fathers, sons and the films that heal
For years, for many reasons, many too painful and raw to share in full here, I went out of my way to hurt my father deeply. Rejecting much of his wisdom, lived experience and love. Making choices that at some level grew from thinking I knew best. But delivering ‘fuck you’ after ‘fuck you’. I’ve come to appreciate that actually the person I hurt most was me. And for many years I never knew why. Nor why ‘Field of Dreams’ got to me almost immediately in its’ opening sequence.
‘The Wolf Dream’
Downstairs, in the house I grew up in, there’s was a wolf that lay in wait. A harbinger of darkness and despair. I was nine or ten years old — I believe — when first we met. The resonance perhaps of earlier exposure to the bone-chilling sounds of ‘Peter and The Wolf’, or those in ‘The Box of Delights’ TV series. In any case, I was petrified… I just couldn’t move a muscle. I use that word judiciously and in its most literal sense: every time I saw the wolf I turned to stone.
‘Fall and rise: a poem’
Hello again, and here we are Three-bottle juice slide, two months in Flew too high, then crashed and fell Ground Zero, pre-post-and-during A room I know too well Shame enduring Hidden, verdant Tortoise-shelled I wandered in, and there I was Strangely still, and now unburdened Soma-filled and in a stupor Brain beffudled, limbs not working Unbearable A crazy muddle The other side of mental health Co-morbity with all addiction Fuelling ups and deepen downs ‘Find the middle stoned my son?’ Come...
‘Remember the pain’
He was, as my Grandma used to be fond of saying… ‘Six-foot-six if he was an INCH!’ … and he was seemingly as broad. A barrel of a man. I was in his sights. He was headed my way, smiling. I wasn’t overly keen on making his acquaintance. Turned out I didn’t have much choice in the matter. An ohrwurm started bouncing round my head. A song I hadn’t heard in years. Skee-Lo. ‘I wish I was a little bit taller, I wish I was a baller’… … oh yeah, he’s still slowly pacing towards me. One pace. Two. Frozen.
Worlds from a phone
By A Kloppwork Orange Been a while. Been hangin' alone. Some stuff happened. Hate to bemoan. Here I am reuniting Day Ones. Takin' sound. Chilling advice. Hanging out at my Moms. Until the new day comes. Until the steps march on. Each drop that fills a glass. A path I'm on. So long.
why life will never be the same again
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - If I may take just a moment of your time As you'll see from my profile, I'm just some guy taking his shot at being a writer, who follows the golden rule: 'apply seat of pants to chair and write'. I've been doing so for two months now. If you like what you read, do feel free to caffeinate me at https://buymeacoffee.com/kubrickandklopp. And now, for the main event, without further 'to-do'...
‘Brush strokes: catching the big fish’
As a child, way before self-consciousness, adult neuroses and complications kicked in, it was all about art class. From sketching to doodling, copying my comic book heroes — the ones that didn’t wear capes but could be found in Roy of The Rovers and The Beano — and then beginning to swim in the deep swirls and layering of oil paints. I loved everything about it: the smells, the freedom and immersion in creativity, the headspace I could enter with ease and flow.
‘Morning miracles: a new day and a new way’
There’s a tree in the garden that’s pulling away from the fence, like a child dragging Mum away from a shop that holds no interest. It’s pulling with such force that the fence is gradually falling apart. The tree is small but strong, branches arcing this way and that, with white blossom petals that occasional fly and flutter through the breeze. From the corner of my eye a white cat appears on the other side of the garden.
‘Gi’s a job please: finding the next gig’
Finding a job is hard enough when you’re young, fresh out of university, or have a CV that makes you a good prospect. If, like me, your career is a bit more like crazy paving, with twists and turns, and lots of consulting gigs and projects, it’s a little more challenging. Throw in a tough economy, major disruption through AI, political and financial instability, and a crowded and competitive market, it’s even harder. Then the big one: there’s not supposed be such a thing as age-discrimination.
‘Follow the light: the power of small acts of kindness and love’
There’s a universal power that light brings. In dark times, as I wrote about in my first article here about Crisinity – finding opportunities in the crises we face — I am inspired to follow and move towards the light. Yesterday, the temporary absence of light during the solar eclipse brought excitement, joy and wonder to the world.
‘60.00.06 | Dance with the devil’
James was on a roll. He’d been up all night, deciding to go for a night-time walk after accepting that he was too wired to sleep. It was Autumn 2010, and although he didn’t realise it at the time, he was on a dangerous path. Thirty-five years old, somewhat manic and unpredictable, but in his heart still a kind and gentle soul with good intentions, the vibrations he was putting out to The Universe were attracting back strangers who with better judgement he would have avoided.
‘The one I didn’t want to write: of tolerance, religion and The Middle East’
I’m a humanist. Let’s get that straight right out of the gate. A fan of peace, harmony, and unity; justice, equality, and good old-fashioned, common decency. As I’ve already written here in ‘Crisinity: are there opportunities in the midst of today’s crises?’ I believe that globalisation, digital-connectedness, and the amplitude, volume and compressed frequency of today’s news cycles aren’t helping.
‘Yossel: an unexpected downpour on the road to Malibu’
Definition: ‘Yossel’. From the root name Joseph. Derived from the Hebrew ‘yōsēf’ (‘may he add’). Yiddish equivalent of Joseph (‘God will multiply’). It was 1984, I believe, and I was staring down the barrel of an exasperating defeat on home turf. We were in the garden in leafy Mill Hill, North-West London, the summer sun still beaming down as afternoon turned to evening. Great-Uncle Joe was ready to serve. The score 19–12.
‘Crisinity: are there opportunities in the midst of today’s crises?’
We live in unprecedented times. Since the eve of the millennium, the lulls between news cycles have compressed, and the intensity of each crisis spikes more terrifyingly than the last. In a globalised and digital society, the previously unimaginable horrors of our times seem inescapable. How and when, can and will, this madness end? Think I’m overstating things? Need to lighten up or take off my tin-foil hat?
Orange affiche des résultats en ligne au T1 et maintient ses prévisions
(Actualisé avec précisions, déclarations dirfin) 26 avril (Reuters) - Orange ORAN.PA a confirmé ses prévisions mercredi après des résultats conformes aux attentes au premier trimestre, portés par la croissance de ses activités en Afrique et au Moyen-Orient et par des hausses de prix en Europe.
À Orange, une " Traviata " de premier plan
La pureté du ciel de Provence, les gradins – combles – de l’un des plus beaux théâtres antiques d’Europe, une brise légère suscitant une température idéale, l’un des ouvrages les plus populaires du répertoire, un public tenu en haleine d’un bout à l’autre du spectacle : c’était mercredi 3 août l’atmosphère d’une grande soirée à Orange, à l’occasion de la représentation de La Traviata de Verdi.
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