Happy Autumn. Happy Fall. Happy Hop-tu-Naa! Happy Harvest. Happy Samhain. There is something stirring in the airs of Autumn. Gets me every year. To celebrate the skies of an ever shifting twilight, when the spirits soar through the liminal film between this world and that of the beyond. When the night parade of daemons and tricksters travel and trove.
Reading fairytales within the origin language. Contextual agreements between time and place, emotions and aesthetics. We might localize our hearts out but truth be told we humans are too complex to translate. #japanese #japaneselanguage #folklore #fable
Bohemian nights in Valencia where the gypsies shred violins into the coming dark
“Rhythmic swells reverberate trough my lungs. The back streets of Valencia.
Back street Europe.
Romani enclaves and gypsy parts of town.
We’ll sit here in the Plaça de la Virgen with our stiff sangria, smartly bashful in red-faced delerium.
For it is Spring and the blossoms have begun to sing.
A nod to blanco nerium”
A poem to the City of Oranges. An Open Love Letter to the City of Valencia, Spain.
Keeping with the dualistic nature of Epic literature to be a hero requires great tragedy. One must all at once bring and preserve life while taking it. Within this text, war is clearly demarcated as a symbol of achieving glory.
Sunday Morning BY WALLACE STEVENS I Complacencies of the peignoir, and lateCoffee and oranges in a sunny chair,And the green freedom of a cockatooUpon a rug mingle to dissipateThe holy hush of ancient sacrifice.She dreams a little, and she feels the darkEncroachment of that old catastrophe,As a calm darkens among water-lights.The pungent oranges and […]
Little spots of sunshine lie on the surface of the water and dance, dance, and their reflections wobble deliciously over the ceiling; a stir of my finger sets them whirring, reeling