04 Thursday Feb 2016
Posted in Andreï Tarkovski, Uncategorized
“Si vous saviez comme je suis fatigué, ils se croient tous des intellectuels, des écrivains, des savants ! Mais ils ne croient en rien! Leur organe qui secrète la foi est atrophié ”
Andreï Tarkovski
04 Thursday Feb 2016
Posted in Andreï Tarkovski, Uncategorized
Tags
“They call themselves the intelligentsia, writers and scientists. They don’t believe in anything! Their capacity for faith has atrophied”
Andreï Tarkovski
03 Wednesday Feb 2016
Posted in Andreï Tarkovski, Uncategorized
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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.”
31 Sunday Jan 2016
Posted in Uncategorized
” Pour être heureux, soyez épicier, c’est tout… Strictement épicier ! Lard ! sucre ! macaroni ! c’est plus net, c’est plus honnête, le bonheur est là… ” Louis-Ferdinand Céline
29 Friday Jan 2016
Posted in Uncategorized
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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.”
24 Sunday Jan 2016
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
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
07 Thursday Jan 2016
Posted in Exhibitions I saw, Uncategorized
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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.
04 Monday Jan 2016
Posted in Lighthouse, Poetry
The storm is over. Must be something in the air
A metaphor to keep me silent
Those small snowflakes that are hanging down
Swell likely to drop the iron
Down the river, in our hiding-place
We still not ready for archeology
What I became move us away
From prophesies and from sounds of History
Away from iron windows and flags
The first to remember Benjamin MiTudelo in Sicily
Will still hear the bloody distant milk away.
14 Monday Dec 2015
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tags
I did not smell the apple
behind Proust Madeleine
But your scent yes
a scent of cinnamon
My kippur shall be without apples
And without smell
Dives have no odor
08 Tuesday Dec 2015
Posted in Uncategorized
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
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