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Braveheart

Braveheart

Bluefun

We are happy scientists
Our theories long abandoned
For kites of red and feather beds
For moments without sadness

We will jump for joy

We are engineers and we are architects
Making better guesses and empty threats
It was all for something, and there’s nothing wrong
We know what is coming and what is to be done

And I’m helpless darling
Cause you turn me on

(Joy Maker Machinery)

Synecdoche

Everything is more complicated than you think. You only see a tenth of what is true. There are a million little strings attached to every choice you make; you can destroy your life every time you choose. But maybe you won’t know for twenty years. And you’ll never ever trace it to its source. And you only get one chance to play it out. Just try and figure out your own divorce. And they say there is no fate, but there is: it’s what you create. Even though the world goes on for eons and eons, you are here for a fraction of a fraction of a second. Most of your time is spent being dead or not yet born. But while alive, you wait in vain, wasting years, for a phone call or a letter or a look from someone or something to make it all right. And it never comes or it seems to but doesn’t really. And so you spend your time in vague regret or vaguer hope for something good to come along. Something to make you feel connected, to make you feel whole, to make you feel loved. And the truth is I’m so angry and the truth is I’m so fucking sad, and the truth is I’ve been so fucking hurt for so fucking long and for just as long have been pretending I’m ok, just to get along, just for, I don’t know why, maybe because no one wants to hear about my misery, because they have their own, and their own is too overwhelming to allow them to listen to or care about mine.

Well, fuck everybody. Amen.

(Thanks Charlie, it was a masterpiece)

Photo-0004

Vinicio Capossela, London 16th of May 2009

Prophet

No move in the solid skies
No gleaming metal out of the breathtaking blue.

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Monoliths

Geometry

monolith

Dedicated to Sunn O)))

Secret Dance

Dance

Sleeper, sleeper tell me your dream

Of furtive glances and whispered stories

Of fairy tales and distant songs

Of secret dances in the darkness of the wood

-          -          -          -

Dreamer, dreamer sing in your sleep

Of a spellbound poet and the Night that loved him

Of an ancient tongue and the fires that never stop

Of what one cannot have but cherishes for good

This is a song of colour

Where sands sing in crimson, red and rust

Then climb into bed and turn to dust.

Sunset

Oh sing of summer and a sunset

And sing for us, so that we may remember

The day writes the words right across the sky

They all go all the way up to the top of the night

(Thanks Kate,  I love you)

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