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This category contains 83 posts

Non ho smesso di pensarti: Charles Bukowski / Fan Ho

Non ho smesso di pensarti, vorrei tanto dirtelo. Vorrei scriverti che mi piacerebbe tornare, che mi manchi e che ti penso. Ma non ti cerco. Non ti scrivo neppure ciao. Non so come stai. E mi manca saperlo. Hai progetti? Hai sorriso oggi? Cos’hai sognato? Esci? Dove vai? Hai dei sogni? Hai mangiato? Mi piacerebbe … Continue reading

A Dream Within a Dream: Edgar Allan Poe / Trent Parke

Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow- You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone? … Continue reading

Dino Buzzati: Invitations inutiles / Brassaï

Je voudrais que tu viennes me rejoindre par un soir d’hiver et que, serrés l’un contre l’autre, contemplant l’obscurité de la rue déserte et glacée, nous nous rappelions ces autres hivers fabuleux où nous vivions ensemble, sans le savoir. Nous allions alors toi et moi par les mêmes sentiers enchantés, d’un pas timide, au milieu … Continue reading

Fernando Pessoa: The book of disquiet / Rui Palha

We never love anyone. What we love is the idea we haveof someone. It’s our own concept – our own selves – that we love. This is true in the whole gamut of love. In sexual love we seek our own pleasure via another body. In non-sexual love, we seek our own pleasure via our … Continue reading

Silence: T.S. Eliot / Vincenzo Balocchi

Along the city streets It is still high tide, Yet the garrulous waves of life Shrink and divide With a thousand incidents Vexed and debated:– This is the hour for which we waited– This is the ultimate hour When life is justified. The seas of experience That were so broad and deep, So immediate and … Continue reading

I Am With You : Kassák Lajos / Manuel Alvarez Bravo

In front of you I go you in front of me the early sun’s gold chain jingles on my wrist. Where are you going — I ask you answer — how do I know. I speed up my walk but you speed all the more. I in front of you you in front of me. … Continue reading

How Distant Everything Is! Emil Cioran / Akihiro Furuta

How Distant Everything Is! I don’t understand why we must do things in this world, why we must have friends and aspirations, hopes and dreams. Wouldn’t it be better to retreat to a faraway corner of the world, where all its noise and complications would be heard no more? Then we could renounce culture and … Continue reading

Plain Chant : Jean Cocteau / Pierre Jahan Photography

Je n’aime pas dormir quand ta figure habite, La nuit, contre mon cou ; Car je pense à la mort laquelle vient trop vite, Nous endormir beaucoup. Je mourrai, tu vivras et c’est ce qui m’éveille! Est-il une autre peur? Un jour ne plus entendre auprès de mon oreille Ton haleine et ton coeur. Quoi, … Continue reading

Invisible Cities – Italo Calvino / Peter Keetman

The inferno of the living is not something that will be; if there is one, it is what is already here, the inferno where we live every day, that we form by being together. There are two ways to escape suffering it. The first is easy for many: accept the inferno and become such a … Continue reading

Angels in America: Tony Kushner / Cole Thompson

In this world, there is a kind of painful progress. Longing for what we’ve left behind, and dreaming ahead. Tony Kushner, from Angels in America, Part Two: Perestroika (Theatre Communication Group, 1993) Photography: Cole Thompson Harper: Night flight to San Francisco. Chase the moon across America. God! It’s been years since I was on a plane. … Continue reading

Ulysses by James Joyce – Philippe Halsman photography

If on a winter’s night a traveler – Italo Calvino / Hengki Koentjoro

If on a winter’s night a traveler The novel begins in a railway station, a locomotive huffs, steam from a piston covers the opening of the chapter, a cloud of smoke hides part of the first paragraph. In the odor of the station there is a passing whiff of station café odor. There is someone … Continue reading

The poem is lonely… Paul Celan / Tibor Honty

The poem holds its ground, if you will permit me yet another extreme formulation, the poem holds its ground on its own margin. In order to endure, it constantly calls and pulls itself back from an “already-no-more” into a “still-here”. This “still-here” can only mean speaking. Not language as such, but responding and – not … Continue reading

Raymond Carver: Where I’m Calling

Maybe I’m crazy, but I feel better somehow, if you want to know. I don’t to think about it anymore, either. But I’m glad we talked it over. I’ll never bring it up again, either, and that’s a promisse. She takes my drink and puts it on the table, next to the phone. She puts … Continue reading

Miroslav Tichý : “Photography is painting with light “

Tichy is truly one of the great ‘finds’ of an unknown artist who worked on the outside edges of the art world. Following the communist takeover Tichy spent some eight years in prison camps and jails for no particular reason other than he was ‘different’ and was considered subversive. Upon his release in the early … Continue reading

Savage Memories – Yehuda Amichai

I think these days of the wind in your hair, and of my years in the world which preceded your coming, and of the eternity to which I proceed before you; and I think of the bullets that did not kill me, but killed my friends— they who were better than me because they did … Continue reading

The River : Herman Hesse / Hengki Koentjoro photographer

I am only a ferryman and it is my task to take people across this river. I have taken thousands of people across and to all of them my river has been nothing but a hindrance on their journey. They have travelled for money and business, to weddings and on pilgrimages; the river has been … Continue reading

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