~*~*~*~*~

From 'memento mori,' a small reminder of your mortality + ‘torii,’ the traditional Japanese gates that mark the threshold between the profane and the sacred..... I remember walking through the long winding tunnels of torii gates in Kyoto—a surreal and oddly touching experience, which I found almost impossible to convey in a photograph.



Strange how strong the instinct is, to see something incredible, and reach for a camera. As if to lend it some credibility, to prove that it's real, that 'I WAS HERE.' Morii. We live our lives in moments. Those rare experiences we stop to notice, and carry with us, in the hopes of stringing them together, trying to tell a story. But even in the moment, you can feel it start to fade. So you try to capture it, and convert it into something that will last longer than just a flash. And over time a photo feels more real than it's subject. It lets you build a version of the world that you can take with you. A world flattened, and simple A world that doesn't change That fits in the frame. A little brighter and more colorful. With everything under control...

A tangent is where a line 'just touches' a curve, sharing the same angle for a bit before carrying off to infinity.


You and I have never met, many times before. Our paths might have crossed once or twice online, or passing in the street, We might've lived in the same neighborhood all our lives, but against incredible odds, we just happened to miss each other. It's a big world, after all. Our days must be filled with these chance encounters, that for a million tiny reasons, never actually take place. Accidental strangers, who just happened to miss their cue. who share everything in common, except for time and place. For years, their stories might've been happening in parallel, harmonizing from somewhere across the world, but neither has any idea that the other even exists. If two lines are truly parallel, it means they'll never actually meet.

onism - n. the frustration of being stuck in just one body, that inhabits only one place at a time, which is like standing in front of the departures screen at an airport, flickering over with strange place names like other people's passwords, each representing one more thing you'll never get to see before you die-and all because, as the arrow on the map helpfully points out, you are here.

----

We sketch monsters on the map because we find their presence comforting. They guard the edges of the abyss, and force us to look away; so we can live comfortably in the Known World, at least for a little while. But if someone were to ask you on your deathbed what it was like to live here on Earth, perhaps the only honest answer would be, "I don't know. I passed through it once, but I've never really been there."

Hej, Veg! :-) Jos malo, jos malo..

---

„Jednog dana, u restoranu, dok sam žvrljao po salveti, izašla je na vidjelo riječ 'amarkord'. Pa da, rekoh sam sebi, ljudi će je odmah poistovjetiti sa 'sjećam se'. A ja sam htio izbjeći da se moj film protumači kao autobiografski. Amarkord je čudna riječ, kao zvuk vergla, fonetski hir s kabalističkim prizvukom. Mogla bi biti i naziv nekog aperitiva, zašto ne? Bilo što, samo ne sjećanje na ono što me strašno nervira: sjećam se. Riječ koja bi u svoj svojoj neobičnosti mogla biti jedinstvo značenja, odjek određenog osjećaja, stanja duha, stava, načina mišljenja, dvostrukog, proturječnog, djelovanje dvije suprotnosti, stapanje dvije krajnosti, odlaska i čežnje za povratkom, osude i razumijevanja, odbijanja i prihvaćanja, nježnosti i drskosti. Činilo mi se da bi film trebao predstavljati baš to: nužnost odvajanja od nečega što ti je pripadalo, u čemu si rođen i živio, što te je odredilo, zarazilo, u čemu su svi osjećaji opasno izmiješani. Ta prošlost ne smije nas trovati i zato je moramo lišiti sjenki, čvorova, veza koje još uvijek djeluju. Treba prihvatiti prošlost kako bismo što svjesnije živjeli sadašnjost. Ta jadna škola čije su glavne osobine neznanje i šibanje, ta teška i blesava obaveza da uvijek budemo zajedno, u povorci, na paradi, u crkvi, u kinu, na zborovima, da bismo izrazili hvalospjeve.. Zašto ta priča nije iza nas? Amarkord je trebao biti zbogom jednom razdoblju u životu, toj neizlječivoj adolescenciji koja prijeti imati nas zauvijek i s kojom ja i dalje ne znam što učiniti. Vući li je do kraja ili je odložiti u arhivu..? Uostalom, taj moralistički cilj da se odraste. Što on zaista znači? I pod pretpostavkom da je moguće odrasti, što, dakle, biva kad se odraste? Jeste li ikada sreli odrasle? Ja nisam. Doduše, možda odrasli izbjegavaju ovakve kao što sam ja.“

(via Pulse)

Još samo mrvicu više od mjesec i pol

Vegvísir wrote:Još samo mrvicu više od mjesec i pol

A njega definitivno nema. :D Vele da bezobrazno komentira pripremu nove sezone. Bit će da je ozlojeđen što i njega nisu pozvali.

Inače, nova sezona više će biti nalik onome što je TP trebao biti na samom početku (poput FWWM). Dakle, brutalnije, manje cenzurirano itd.

~ I have no knowledge of myself as I am, but merely as I appear to myself.

Ithildin wrote:~ I have no knowledge of myself as I am, but merely as I appear to myself.

So I am an ocean now ..

Last night I had a dream I was Noah but instead of a boat I only had my heart. Two elephants wouldn't fit in there. It's too small, too human, too selfish. So, instead of animals, I boarded two philosophers. Camus and Kafka, my favourites. I boarded two songs; one minor the other major seven, two poems, two quotes, two friends, two types of love, two sides of a coin, two moons, two stars, two colours; black for absence and peace, white for rainbows and experiences. Two feathers, two flowers, two smiles; one real, one crooked. I boarded communism, empathy, a sense of victory, a sense of real humanity. I boarded dreams, beauty, languages, culture among some other little things... I boarded two packs of cigarettes, two bottles of wine, two needles, two pencils and a notebook, two books for the ride and a pair of new eyes. And, instead of surfing the tides I boarded them. Instead of listening to God, I boarded Him too. Instead of myself, I boarded an idea and a few memories; the best I've had in fact. I boarded love and sank into eternal sleep.

-Zahra Noury-

My whole life I’ve been telling myself, ‘don’t be afraid.’ And it is only now that I’m realizing how stupid that is. Don’t be afraid. Like saying, ‘don’t move out of the way when someone tries to punch you’ or ‘don’t flinch at the heat of fire’ or ‘don’t blink.’ Don’t be human. I’m afraid and you’re afraid and we’re all always going to be afraid, because that’s the point. What I should be telling myself is ‘be afraid, but do it anyway’. Live anyway.

“The world rests in the night. Trees, mountains, fields, and faces are released from the prison of shape and the burden of exposure. Each thing creeps back into its own nature within the shelter of the dark. Our souls come out to play. The darkness absolves everything; the struggle for identity and impression falls away. We rest in the night.”

John O'Donohue, Anam Cara

30. ozujka

Kako lastavice - koje su tako male - mogu nositi proljeca, koja su tako velika?

One su poput mrava, rekla mi je mama.





3. travnja

Hodam ulicom i nitko ne primjecuje golem vrt koji nosim u glavi.

Nosila sam ga i kad sam usla u svoju sobu.

Odlozila sam ga u dnevnik, u prethodnu recenicu.





7. travnja

Ne, rekao mi je brat. Cokoladna jaja legu uskrsni zecevi, a ne cokoladne koke.

Ocigledno.





10. travnja

U cirkusu smo doznali da zecevi izlaze iz sesira.


(A ne iz jaja.)

1. svibnja

Svakoga dana ucinim nesto neobicno jer me strah Instituta za normalne osobe.

Susjed ispod nas kaze da se oni pojavljuju usred noci ili usred dana, uvijek kad to najmanje ocekujemo. Nose kovceg i u njemu upitnik. Ako ispadnemo normalni, odvedu nas sa sobom.




4. svibnja

Danas mi je prisao neki covjek. Nosio je odijelo i kravatu, ali sam ga smjesta prepoznala.

Bio je iz Instituta. Prerusen u normalnu osobu.

Upitao me koliko je sati i ja sam mu odgovorila: imam dva groma u postanskoj omotnici. Onaj je lijevi od drveta, a onaj srednji je zenka. Tako se radjaju pisma.

Iznenadjen mojim odgovorom, otisao je i nije me odveo sa sobom.



(No, kako bih bila sigurna, otisla sam kuci s cipelama na rukama.)

10. svibnja

Gledala sam biljku kako izbija iz zemlje. Biljke traze svjetlo, bas kao moljci i filozofi.




20. svibnja

Danas sam uhvatila leptira. Kad im se otpuhne prah s krila, vise ne lete.

I zato mi se ne svidja kad moja majka brise prasinu s namjestaja. Mislim da zbog toga postane tako tezak.




27. svibnja

Pocet cu skupljati leptirov prah u staklenku u kojoj je nekad bio dzem od jagoda.




1. lipnja

Privezala sam staklenku konopcem jer se bojim da bi mogla poletjeti kad se napuni prahom.




6. lipnja

Odustala sam jer mi je zao leptira koji vise ne mogu letjeti. Ali sad ne znam sto uciniti sa staklenkom.




15. lipnja

Buduci da je danas kisilo, odlucila sam spremiti malo kisnice u staklenku u kojoj su nekad bili dzem od jagoda i leptirov prah. Iskoristit cu je najesen.

Primijetila sam da je velika razlika izmedju jeseni i proljeca u tome sto ujesen biljke umiru, dok se na proljece radjaju. Razlika moze biti jedino u kisi. Od proljetne kise biljke rastu, dok od jesenske umiru.

Moj brat kaze da sam luda. Ali ja znam da je za sve kriva voda. Najesen cu dokazati da imam pravo. Prolit cu proljetnu kisnicu po tlu.

Prolit cu proljece na jesen.