WHEN YOU WILL BE OLD When you’re old, wavering between fire and waking take this book, read it unhurriedly and dreams of the sweetness of your eyes for a time, and their shadows. How many loved your sweet grace of that time, and the beauty of a true or false love. But one only loved your soul pilgrim, and the …
Read More »WHAT WOULD NOT THIS WORLD: Poetry, by Samuel Beckett
WHAT WOULD NOT THIS WORLD What would I do without ever this world, faceless or questions, where to be but for a moment in which each instant, spills into the void of oblivion have been without this wave where finally will collapse together body and shadow. What would I do without this ever silent abyss of whispers, panting furiously rescue …
Read More »6 EMOTIONS IN DUBLIN: A tomb and a boarding school, a museum, a city district and the National Museum, without losing the General Post Office
Of course, in Dublin you can go wherever you want, but I would recommend to you – even if only part of your itinerary – something you will not find in a guidebook. If you go in the St. Patrick Cathedral, you will experience a thrill of tenderness, looking at the grave of Jonathan Swift, one that is next to …
Read More »GIOVANNI BOLDINI (1842/1931), ITALIAN PAINTER: Elegant longues and Tuscan landscapes, willowy women and uninhibited
VINCENT VAN GOGH (1853/1890), DUTCH PAINTER: Self-portraits, but also the realism of still lifes and cypresses, fields of wheat fields and sunflowers.
HOW YOU SHOULD KISSING: Poetry, by Erich Fried
HOW YOU SHOULD KISSING When I kiss you, not just your mouth, not just your belly button, it’s not just that I kiss your lap. I also kiss your questions, and your desires, I kiss your thinking, your doubts, and your courage, your love for me, and your freedom from me, your foot that has come here, and that’s …
Read More »THE WOMAN LEFT HAND: Poetry, by Peter Handke
THE WOMAN LEFT HAND Her climbed with other from a metro station, ate with with other in a warm table, with other was waiting in a laundry, but once I saw her alone, in front of a wall newspaper. She was dating with other from a skyscraper of offices, she trod with other at a stand, she sat with other …
Read More »IF I MELT – Poetry, by Marja Virolainen
IF I MELT If I melt fusing in the rain, and the window see the nightjar, before sleeping when you take off the white shirt, open window: it’s me, scalded wings, flourish in your eyes, I support your neck burning, a soft laugh, whispers, I open my wings on your chest, I close them, I land in a breath, on …
Read More »GIOVANNI ANTONIO CANAL – CANALETTO (1697/1768), ITALIAN PAINTER: Shades of beautiful topography, architecture and nature, cataloging the preciousness of light
JOKES OF CLOUDS: Poetry, by Vladimir Majakoskij
JOKES OF CLOUDS Sailed clouds in the sky, four pieces of clouds; from first to third were people; the fourth was a camel. At these, curiously he joined the street a fifth; from it, in the lap of the blue sky an elephant pulled away behind another. And I do not know if he frightened the sixth, suddenly the clouds …
Read More »JUAN GRIS (1887/1927), PAINTER SPANISH: Comics and paintings, chatting with Matisse and Braque, Leger, Modigliani and Picasso
MEXICO, WEST COAST OF THE GULF: lagoons, marshes and sand
Welcome to the west coast of the Gulf of Mexico, between lagoons, swamps and sand, into a treasure trove of lush vegetation. Few hotels and many Mexicans, good sign for us, because we – as they do – enjoy exquisite seafood. In the southern part of this coast, he had developed the Olmec culture, so, if you love archeology, we …
Read More »ISLE OF PAXOS: Greece in peace, between tiny coves and olive trees
Green, green and leafy, this is the surprise that offers this Ionian island. Not by chance – according to mythology – the island was created by Poseidon for his beloved. Walking Gaios, a few steps from the port, there is the small beach surrounded by pretty houses, all with flower-filled balconies. Can we stop a little in one of the …
Read More »JACOB JORDAENS (1593/1678), FLEMISH PAINTER: Love for domestic atmospheres, the regret for Italy ever seen
THE END: Poetry, by David Herbert Lawrence
THE END If I could hold you in my heart,  if only I could wrap you in me,  As I would be happy!  But now the memory card before  once again I unrolled the course  of our journey so far, here where we part. And to say that you’ve never, ever been  some your reality, my love,  and never …
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