monism1

Joan Miró was a Catalan-Spanish painter, sculptor and ceramist born in Barcelona, Catalonia, Spain.

"Lay bare the soul..painting and poetry are like love..an exchange of blood, a passionate embrace,without restraint,without defence. The picture is born..of an overflow of emotions and feelings.. "

soul

just spit me out*

*probably the clearest order

Áuber

i like so much to listen a singer reading poetry *

*now i need to find Poe singing a Jeff Buckley's song

perception

i wanna know: what is he reading?

*you know the day destroys the night. the night divides the day

code

because what i like the most about blogging here are the things unsaid that are hidden under the written ones.

actually for each written sentence there are millions (no way, maybe i'm exaggerating) of little details knitted between a spider and a firefly, or between a cat and his mouse or between a frog and a fish.*

*the nature is thankful

**decode me

secret

someday i shall write a book about all of this

and

surely

i shall never even dare to publish it*

*and the world will be really thankful to me

hidden

At Eve's Grave

ADAM: Wheresoever she was, THERE was Eden.

Mark Twain, Extract from Adam's diary, of "The diaries of Adam and Eve"

*because the place never matters

ArtNouveau

Antoni Gaudí was born in the province of Tarragona in southern Catalonia, SpaiN on 25 June 1852.

"Because of this, originality consists of returning to the origin."

tractatus

Ludwig Wittgenstein was born in Vienna, AustriA on 26 April 1889

"What do I know about God and the purpose of life?
I know that this world exists.
That I am placed in it like my eye in its visual field.
That something about it is problematic, which we call its meaning.
This meaning does not lie in it but outside of it.
That life is the world.
That my will penetrates the world.
That my will is good or evil.
Therefore that good and evil are somehow connected with the meaning of the world.
The meaning of life, i.e. the meaning of the world, we can call God.
And connect with this the comparison of God to a father.
To pray is to think about the meaning of life. "

sharp

that moment

when someone could say: "hey, this is the moment of my life. i was born just to live this instant, this situation; i was made only to be here precisely in this minute"

there must be a moment like that for everyone.

i hadn't lived mine............

-yet-

fUntastic

is there fun enough in life?

turn it on

and feel the breeze of joy

*how fAnny

**i have to stop playing with words

amplified

i'm plugged in today

the air is so weird

it is so full of something, probably of electricity

existencialism5

best thing to cross a night like this*

*so cure

**and so oscure

stormy

i adore the summer's storms

the heat and the wind before the rain and the people running under the water and the sky so grey and the laughs and all that

,,,,,,, and,,,,, and,,,, and

the sun again

and the hope again for the next rain, again,*

*i'msostormytoday

**anotherkindofatragicface (?)

summerain

*just like we said we always would

failure

there must be a reason

but, always my favourite characters are the looser ones*

i'll never want a hero

as morrisey says: ill never be anybody's hero now

*so tragic. why am i always so tragic? isn't it tragic itself? (?)

listen!

you'll never know how much

*

vaquita

make a wish*

make a wish

make a wish

come on! make it, before it flies away!!!

* i made mine, now is your turn

**then we may sit to wait that our wishes come true... and meanwhile we could talk about religion and other stuffs

hunch

i learnt that if i cover the notebook with a towel, i can't see what is going on at the other side
and some of the troubles disappear.
what a great idea! how didn't i discover it before?

i could go hanging around with a tablecloth in my bag, just to cover what i don't want to see
here there is an idiom: "a heart that doesn't see is a heart that doesn't feel"

and i wonder: how would it be a heart with eyes? will it have eyelashes?
and if it winks, will i feel tickling in my chest?
unfortunately my heart isn't blind, so it feels everything... but in a slow way, you know*

*so tragic, so so tragic

*why am i always thinking this kind of silly things? someday i'll grow up, i promise

howling

*i should howl to that moon the whole night through

innerroom

*"But my heart is a lonely hunter that hunts on a lonely hill"

William Sharp

j'adore Mick Kelly

cronopio

because in days like these i miss you even more than during the others*

*as if a thing like that could be possible

milan

- "...I was surprised by the war in Germany. The woman who i loved at that time, denounced me to the Gestapo. They went to see her and showed her a photography in which I was holding another woman. That hurt her and already it is known that the love acquires often the aspect of the hatred. I went to the jail with the particular sensation that it had been the love the one that had sent me there. Isn't wonderful to be in hands of the Gestapo knowing that actually is the privilege of a man that is too loved?
Jakub answered:
- If something really makes me upset about men, it is the form in which the cruelty, the lowliness and the narrowness of sights disguise themselves as lyricism. She sent you to the death and lived that as the sensitive attitude of a wounded love. And you went to the gallows for the fault of an imbecile, with the sensation of being doing a role in a tragedy written by Shakespeare for you"

The farewell, by Kundera

esential

reading unexpected words

so necessary as the air*

*or the water, in my case

hero

and i wonder: who can rescue me now? *

*i need my own spidercat

plush

;; that moment when you suddenly learn that someone broke something valuable -as a chinese cup of tea- and nothing but nothing will be the same.

and you have the same feeling that you keep when you see that someone is putting a bird inside a cage

poor poor little bird... just wanted to sing and fly away*

*anyway, i'll never be good taking photos [all i have are my drawings]

S

and i wonder: what does spiderman smell like? *

*soironic

mar

*green sea

**let's swim

mistery

+ and there was not explanation, but one day she started to draw again

and she learnt that she hadn't forgotten how to do it

while the lines fell from her pencil so easily -for a moment, just for a moment- she thought that her right hand had a life on its own, that it had a private soul... you know

she had replaced the words for the drawing

and she seemed to be happy

happy as a cat dancing with a little mouse*

*probably metaphoric... no, literal is better

mine

"I have always felt that there is something in Buenos Aires that I like.

I like it so much that I do not like that other people like it.

It is a love like that, jealous."

Jorge Luis Borges

* i share that feeling
** and i finally knew that the boy was happy