Wall Colour For Red Floor

Blog = Diary?

A question I ask myself a few days, perhaps because dealing with the diary of Etty.
Blog = Diary? I do not think this is just the same thing, I would say that is the recipient of our words to make a difference.

who had a diary (and who has not had at least once in life) has always relied on the secrecy of the contents, in order to give a thought to put into words otherwise incommunicable, not that outrageous, mind you, at least not forever, but because it is deeply intimate, confidential, the disclosure of which is given to ourselves and only to us.

diaries brings about that strange kind of third dimension where thoughts become words, yes it is true, but they remain mute, silent, no words spoken. And the word is not spoken is not yet a fact, it stays there, there with all the potential of its feasibility ... but it is still a fact! This strange suspension helps us, making us 'aware' and making 'take time' on the fate of those words not spoken.

Sometimes I seemed to find this size in the blog, rarely, actually. Just when I thought the 'spoken words' would be read, and therefore act by someone who was not me.

I think the blog is more from the diary, a journal perhaps: the leaf dies . An extraordinary form of communication that does not preclude the exercise, our, for introspection, but nothing more shares with that unique, secretum , full of erasures and corrections, where life (the heart, mind) speaks, and says questions really.

Light Brown Blue Ring Around Eyes

of how the page of a Diary of others could well be your page.

" Sunday, eleven. gerararchico [...] The order within my life is a bit 'changed.' Once 'I preferred to start on an empty stomach with Dostoevsky or Hegel, and lost time when I was nervous, I happened also to mend a sock, if you really could not do otherwise. Now I start with the sock, in the truest sense of the word, and then, slowly, passing through the other daily tasks, I climb to the summit, where he met poets and thinkers. "

" A time, if I like a flower, I wanted to press on the heart, or even eat it too (...) I felt a desire for physical things that I liked, I wanted to have. It 's why I always felt that painful insatiable desire, the longing for something that seemed unreachable to me, then I called nostalgia' creative urge '. I believe they were such strong emotions made me think of being born to be an artist. "

" Friday morning, the eight . Lord, give less thought and more cold water and exercise in the morning. "

" Wednesday morning, half past seven . (...) This hour before breakfast for me as a platform to stand on my day. There is a great peace of mind, even if the neighbors have the radio on, and although Han - albeit very slowly - is snoring behind me. Is there really no pressure around ".

" Wednesday morning, half past nine. Last night, I went to him while cycling, I was in a great and sweet desire of spring. And while I pedaled on the asphalt of dreaming Larissestraat all looking forward to seeing him, suddenly I felt caressed by warm air of spring and I thought, well that's fine. Why do not you could try a big and tender carriage for spring (...)? Yes, because you could have an affair with a spring? And the caress of that air was so tender and so universal that the hands of a man, even her, I seemed coarse by comparison. "

All quotations are from:
Etty Hillesum Diary 1941 - 1943 , Adelphi

With Poppy Field .

Embalming And Pregnant

absolute Beauty. Dedicated to Peppino ...

" If you teach the beauty of the people, it would provide a weapon against the resignation, fear el'omertà. The existence of horrendous buildings arose suddenly, with all their squalor, from speculation, you get used with ease ready, you put the curtains on the windows, the plants on the windowsill, and soon you forget how those places were first, and everything, just because it is so, it seems need to be that way forever and ever. That's why you should educate people to the beauty, because in men and women does not get into the habit more and resignation but will always remain alive curiosity and wonder. "


Peppino Impastato