Italo Calvino, If on a Winter's Night a Traveler“Don't be amazed if you see my eyes always wandering. In fact, this is my way of reading, and it is only in this way that reading proves fruitful to me. If a book truly interests me, I cannot follow it for more than a few lines before my mind, having seized on a thought that the text suggests to it, or a feeling, or a question, or an image, goes off on a tangent and springs from thought to thought, from image to image, in an itinerary of reasonings and fantasies that I feel the need to pursue to the end, moving away from the book until I have lost sight of it. The stimulus of reading is indispensable to me, and of meaty reading, even if, of every book, I manage to read no more than a few pages. But those few pages already enclose for me whole universes, which I can never exhaust.”
Wednesday, 28 November 2012
I plan on reading it.
Friday, 23 November 2012
Cosmic
It looks as if infinity is there with you, right under your breath.
'Cause there's steam coming out your nostrils and there's a whole world out there. And it might wonder what it's all about. And you're the only one who'll know. It's there! It surrounds you! It tickles your body, it seizes your spirit! You struggle in this arousing pain and the feverish torment feels like heaven! And there's only you, covered in stars and lights and dreams.
'Cause there's steam coming out your nostrils and there's a whole world out there. And it might wonder what it's all about. And you're the only one who'll know. It's there! It surrounds you! It tickles your body, it seizes your spirit! You struggle in this arousing pain and the feverish torment feels like heaven! And there's only you, covered in stars and lights and dreams.
Don't do it! Don't you dare hold your breath! Promise me you'll inspire your Universe forever!
Wednesday, 21 November 2012
Dubios.
Sunt ca un pumnal înfipt cu precizie în
stomac, sunt ca o înţepătură de albină. În talpă. Sunt ca o gură zdravănă de
nisip, ca un ceas defect, dar care încă ticăie. Degeaba.
Tuesday, 13 November 2012
Where do I belong?
"Where is it that I am now?
Where do I belong?
I carve away a niche with this rusty, broken blade,
But my hands are tired,
Riddled with cuts.
My fingers are weary,
Distorted with the effort of chipping away
At an indestructible stone.
Sunday, 4 November 2012
Words won't do...
Somewhere, far away, there lies a soul. A soul which is only known to a few. And what I mean is, to a nearly insignificant number. There are these two people (or maybe they aren’t, on second thoughts) and there’s this guy, also... and oh! there’s me. I’m not overstating. Trust me, I’m not. And I have plenty evidence to prove it, that I won’t use, of course, `cause there’s simply no need, or time, or point in doing so.
Thursday, 1 November 2012
Fall's here, so...how about some summer?
Afară e urât şi plouă. Nori grei ni se adună deasupra capului şi ne înceţoşează privirea. Ne-ngheaţă degetele şi ne frecăm palmele în speranţa că vom reuşi să le incălzim câtuşi de puţin...Si eu incă stau cu gandul la vacanţa de vară.
Nu vă faceţi impresia greşită cum că aceasta e o postare depresiv-tomnatică. Nici vorbă! E doar un petic de melancolie, o mână rămasă întinsă, care încearcă, încă, să recupereze măcar o frântură din sezonul cald.
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