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Qu’il est beau d’être si petit ! Robert Walser

05 Friday Feb 2016

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“C’est fou toutes ces idées qui me viennent, alors que je suis encore si petit. On peut bien me traîter de bambin. (…) Je suis assez impressionné de comprendre tant de choses déjà. (…) Qu’il est beau d’être si petit ! On n’est responsable de rien du tout. À bien des égards je reste un véritable mystère à mes propres yeux. (…) Je suis étonné moi-même de mon éloquence. Je n’ai que quatre ans. Jamais je ne me serais cru si perspicace, si avisé et si clairvoyant. Je m’enchante littéralement. Ce que ça doit être agréable d’être content de moi. (…) On appelle terre je crois, ce sur quoi je suis debout. (…) Au-dessus de moi, ce ciel.” 

Robert Walser

Le livre ici :

https://ec56229aec51f1baff1d-185c3068e22352c56024573e929788ff.ssl.cf1.rackcdn.com/attachments/original/4/9/4/002719494.pdf

 

“Cheating oneself is to renounce to everything” Andreï Tarkovski

03 Wednesday Feb 2016

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“The one who betrays his principles once will lose the purity of his relationship with life. Cheating oneself is to renounce to everything, to his movie, to his life.“

” Celui qui trahit une seule fois ses principes perd la pureté de sa relation avec la vie. Tricher avec soi-même, c’est renoncer à tout, à son film, à sa vie.”

Andreï Tarkovski

 

Georges Perros : “Être seul, et l’accepter…”

29 Friday Jan 2016

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“C’est une erreur – plaisante à entretenir – de croire qu’on peut faire beaucoup de peine, engager la durée dans le chagrin, comme de croire qu’on peut faire beaucoup de plaisir à autrui. Il y a les sots, qui se suicident pour un bonjour négligé. Les indifférents, qui s’en moquent. Il y a surtout ce qui se passe, et ne peut se passer que dans la solitude, qui n’est rien d’autre que la crête suprême de la Pyramide homme ; dont nous sommes le dernier signe concret. Être seul, et l’accepter ; c’est assumer une harmonie indispensable et près de se rompre perpétuellement par un retrait, une défaillance durable.”

 

 

 

Implant

24 Sunday Jan 2016

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Deception digs

where sprouts the singular.

Thought fallen into the heart

in vacant spirit penetrates you

where you think.

Shimon Bar Yoahi could be in no other place

than this dark cave

knocking, unheeded at closed gates

for the sake of transparence.

Lo yikaret is a promise made to broken men

And it is true we must cut-off the path to miss

clarity in the sense of silence.

Today, you can enter any building

you can look from any window

and yet much can’t be explained.

What is Petre Tutea for in destitute time?

What lies beneath the surface?

Beneath tv screens?

Self-fulfilling prophecy

is the gate through which

we all must at some time pass.

 

 

S.M

The Library at Night by Robert Lepage

07 Thursday Jan 2016

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Today, I saw a fascinating exhibition  “The Library at Night” at the BanQ, directed by Robert Lepage. It is a 360° virtual exploration of 10 of the world’s most fascinating libraries. It was designed by the Ex Machina production company. Inspired by the essay of Alberto Manguel, the exhibition explores the philosophical architecture and social foundations on which all libraries rest.

Upton entering the exhibition, we step into a recreation of Manguel’s own library. Then we move to an immersive fores landscape that provides a sharp contrast to the rigorous order usually associated with temples of knowlege. Visitors then don headstes using 360° video immersion technology that take us from Sarajevo’s National Library to Mexico City’s Megabibliotheca, the stunning digital age Biblioteca Vasconcelos and from legendray city of Alexandira to the bottom of the sea aboard Captain’s Nemo Nautilus.

It was a wonderful Journey.

 

 

Nothing with the clarity of something

08 Tuesday Dec 2015

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who may tell the tale
of the old man?
weigh absence in a scale?
mete want with a span?
the sum assess
of the world’s woes?
nothingness
in words enclose?

Watt will not
abate one jot
but of what

of the coming to
of the being at
of the going from
Knott’s habitat

of the long way
of the short stay
of the going back home
the way he had come

of the empty heart
of the empty hands
of the dim mind wayfaring
through barren lands

of a flame with dark winds
hedged about
going out
gone out

of the empty heart
of the empty hands
of the dark mind stumbling
through barren lands

that is of what
Watt will not
abate one jot