sink into this wild never-ending daylight;
breathlessly run, always expecting to stumble upon a wolf or a fox. A fairy, if only.
dance in the clearing or run after fireflies among the bushes, crazy for love;
never forget the transit of a fallen star;
while the morning moon is crumbling down,
stopping her futile wandering
to shape to my feeling, eventually.
Happy Valentine’s Day.
Seneca wrote Lucillo a letter on Hecate and friendship:
.. Let me tell you what I like about Hecate on friendship. “Are you asking me” he said “about my progress? I’ve started being friend with myself.” He made a lot of progress... such a friend is always at hand.
Merry Christmas to all our friends
(and to their friends, so)
Laura & JJ
Merry Christmas! (accessories Legatoria Koinè)
Short trip among the golden, yellow, orange and brown nuance of the larches in the magic Occitan land: Val Maira (Cottian Alps), Italy.
Great weekend by
B&B Lou Bià, Val Maira, CN Italy
The Circus is visiting the suburbs:
a red and white stripe tent stands still,
the wide open mouth of a child.
There’s a bit of poetry around;
when the soul gets out of the inside, it happens sometimes,
once in a while.
Under the same off-white light
someone is running away, not far from here
others are having such a fun.
Milan, Italy 2014
At dinner, we discussed the Italian nineteen century,
lives and values in precarious equilibrium
between conservatism and progressivism.
I hang around with smart people.
This morning, in a bar in the suburbs, I recognized
the impetuous emotional alterations of an avant-garde
fin de siècle.
In Rome, Italy
A gentle roll-off. The moribund sea erodes the foundations. This town is exhausting.
Buildings float like slabs, chased by the winds;
the room is filled with dust and anxiety.
A voice is altering the stillness: bitter, sharp.
(Friendship among artists is frail, when based on aesthetic theories).
Sixty art pieces. And nothing. Neither a shelter nor a shrine, a prison, a nightmare, a hole in the ground to tell where the journey will end!
Light’s too yellow to argue like this, at the window
the sun is touching the sea, getting its temperature.
where the journey will end
The picture in the frame, a beach in Stromboli, heads on the sand. A tepid smile.
No, indeed. Not even here, but
I didn’t know we were lost.
Venice – Italy
Italy, Adriatic Sea – line, light and colors.
Shots by GGRuff