Some are wise and some are otherwise.
“You’re not disabled by the disabilities you have, you are able by the abilities you have.” (Oscar Pistorius)
Mi-a făcut semn să mă apropii de el. Mîna lui s-a întins ca să-mi strîngă mîna. M-am ferit; îmi era frică să nu ne confundăm definitiv.
“And every thought i have turns the language blue…”
”Well my eyes are closed, but my heart’s on fire>Because the clock is approaching the midnight hourI leave my window open, all the lights are outAnd from the darkest night comes the lightest shout”
* “Sometimes in life one experiences an emotion which is so strong that it is difficult to think, or to reason. Sometimes you get submerged by emotion. I think it’s very important to express it – which doesn’t necessarily mean hitting someone. I am very mistrustful of people who are constantly over-intellectualising things. It kills passion. You have to allow yourself to lose control from time to time.”
* “I feel close to the rebelliousness and vigor of the youth here. Perhaps time will separate us, but nobody can deny that here, behind the windows of Manchester, there is an insane love of football, of celebration and of music.”
* “I am God.”
* “Football is like making love, if you can’t last 90 minutes like me, you wont win”
* “I had heart, and I know without heart you cannot play.”
* “No, it is me.” (After being asked whether Zinédine Zidane or Michel Platini was the greatest-ever French footballer)
* “Goals are like babies… They are all beautiful.”
Zhenya Strigalev/Liam Noble Duo
Una dintre poeziile care mi-au placut; sper sa revin si cu alte versuri.
The brawling of a sparrow in the eaves,
The brilliant moon and all the milky sky,
And all that famous harmony of leaves,
Had blotted out man’s image and his cry.A girl arose that had red mournful lips
And seemed the greatness of the world in tears,
Doomed like Odysseus and the labouring ships
And proud as Priam murdered with his peers;Arose, and on the instant clamorous eaves,
A climbing moon upon an empty sky,
And all that lamentation of the leaves,
Could but compose man’s image and his cry.
(The Sorrow of Love)
Pentru mine, the Artist a avut Totul. Poate pentru ca nu staim nimic despre cand l-am vazut – ca este un film mut si alb-negru, a fost o surpriza. 27 ianuarie… nu am nevoie sa-mi amintesc ce am simtit atunci, pentru ca re-simt acea zi la fiecare revedere: un sentiment de primavara, fluturasi in stomac, tandrete si induiosare, zambete si lacrimi totodata — un deja-vu al sentimentelor din timpul Spumei zilelor de Boris Vian. De aceea cred ca daca Spuma zilelor este cartea de care sunt indragostita, the Artist este filmul.
Ma copleseste – tema in sine, frumusetea ametitoare a lui Berenice Bejo si Jean Dujardin, melodiile de inceput de secol trecut, detaliile simbolice armonizate perfect cu desfasurarea naratiunii, momentul comic care urmeaza celui dramatic, sau invers- si care diminueaza efectul, pentru ca, retrospectiv, sa il faca mai apasator, metaforele, jocurile de cuvinte din acele cateva replici si… subterfugiul: – fara cuvinte si fara culoare, esti partial autorul propriului film – resimti si interpretezi gesturi si expresii conform imaginior, dar si structurii interioare – mai mult ca niciodata, iar filmul devine intr-un fel, poate, un dialog cu tine insuti, un dialog intre ratiune si sentimente, sau poate cea mai buna colaborare…
Inca un exemplu de “what do you say when words are not enough”… si totusi, in timpul vizionarii nu mai tac, de vorba cu mine insami…
*****
Tocmai am descoperit ca Ville-d’Arvay, locul unde este Mormantul lui Boris, se afla oarecum aproape de oras; daca reusesc sa dau de cap unui traseu comprehensibil, dupa mine, potopul!!! De fapt… cred ca mai degraba m-as face scut, sa-L apar de potop.
Dvorak — Humoresque – Symphony
Dvorak — Humoresque/ Heifetz
Dvorak — Humoresque/ Yo Yo Ma & Perlman
Dvorak — Humoresque/ Kreisler
Dvorak — Humoresque/ Ysaye
Imi place imaginea, Total – mozaicul, coloanele, felul in care plutesc culorile pana sa se astearna pe jos, tacerea.
Am primit ultimele carti comandate de la Polirom. In sfarsit, am colectia completa Amelie Nothomb, si pt ca nu ningea, – si mi-am dorit sa o citesc in pat, sub plapuma, cu ninsoare la geam, hotarasem sa pastrez cartea lui Murakami pentru Paris. Acum, intr-un fel sau altul, ninge si cred ca voi trai cateva zile grozave.
Scrisul face parte din mine, din viață... ca de altfel, arta în toate formele ei!
Simt, gândesc deci exist
Educación, reflexiones y cultura general.
みんなの思い出の音楽
Nos amis les humains sont formidables ! © - Nouvelles en tout genre
în umbra întunericului!
When the Universe manifests itself through Poetry...
Impresie. Albastru inefabil... 