November 26, 2024 6:18 pm

Meeting Bench

A HILL NEXT TO THE SEA: To Guyan Mestras, France, between bullfighting and cookies with pine nuts

A long stretch of white sandy beaches and full of wind, but also ponds and woods. The Landes begin right at Guyan Mestras, and I offer my welcome in my home town – Arcachon – to accompany you to the highest dune of Europe. We will Pylat, rising to a height of 114 meters, over a hill of sand two …

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A SMALL NIGHT – Poetry, by Yukio Mishima (1925/1970)

A SMALL NIGHT A small night storm blows, saying falling is the essence of a flower, preceding those who hesitate. (Yukio Mishima) http://www.amazon.co.uk/Decay-Angel-Sea-Fertility/dp/009928457X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1432713615&sr=1-1  

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AND NOT NEVER DIE – Poetry, by Boris Ryzyi (1974/2001)

AND NOT NEVER DIE A ship glazed, the door, the table, the bed. Living is hard and uncomfortable, but it is convenient to die. I’m relaxed and I think, maybe these white sheets wrapped him that today he’s gone to the other world. The faucet drips plan. Life, disheveled like a whore, she appears out of the fog and see …

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IVAN SHISHKIN (1832/1898), RUSSIAN PAINTER: Forest landscapes and poetic depiction of seasons in the wild nature of the woods

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KONRAD WITZ (1410/1445), GERMAN PAINTER: Not only altarpieces, but also paintings with the observation of real topographical features around his Time

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THE HURRICANE: Poetry, by Léopold Sédar Senghor

THE HURRICANE The hurricane uproots everything around me, the hurricane uproots me in leaves and useless words. Whirlwinds of passion hiss silent, but peace is the tornado arid, on the escape of the rainy season. You wind burning pure wind, wind of summer, it burns you every flower, every thought compartment, when the sand dunes lies on the heart. Anvella, …

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WE NOW THERE WE GO, GRADUALLY: Poetry, by Sergei Alexandrovich Yesenin

WE NOW THERE WE GO, GRADUALLY We now we go little by little, to the land where joy and peace. Perhaps, soon I’ll have to pick up my mortal remains for the journey. Care birch forests! O earth! And you, the sands of the plains! Before this crowd of runners, I have no strength to hide my sadness. I loved …

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EXERCISE OF STYLE: Poetry, by Carmen Camacho

EXERCISE OF STYLE I’ll try not to use perfect words, such beauty, freedom, your light. Too big, they are waiting. More urgently, it says: last night I counted with the body, three hundred fingers of your hand. (Carmen Camacho)

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A SMALL ANCIENT WORLD, IN A VALLEY: Castles of the Loire, France

By bike, of course. If you want, you can rent a bicycle to observe – with deliberate slowness – wonderful castles and inns. While riding, you breathe a special atmosphere, full of history and balmy air of the Atlantic Ocean. You must remember, that the nobles who had chosen the Valley of Loria to build their 700 castles, breathing this …

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ONE DAY WILL EXIST: Poetry, by Rainer Maria Rilke

ONE DAY WILL EXIST One day there will the girl and the woman, whose name will no longer mean only one opposed to the male, but something in itself, something that will not be expected to complete and border, but only in real life: the feminine humanity. This progress will transform the experience of love, which is now full of …

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