5 am, Saturday & 1wd. Darkness still ruling outdoors, silence filling these early hours. I’m here. I’m fine. Finding space. And it feels good.
lune d’hiver.
“Votre âme est un paysage choisi
Que vont charmant masques et bergamasques
Jouant du luth et dansant et quasi
Tristes sous leurs déguisements fantasques.
Tout en chantant sur le mode mineur
L’amour vainqueur et la vie opportune
Ils n’ont pas l’air de croire à leur bonheur
Et leur chanson se mêle au clair de lune,
Au calme clair de lune triste et beau,
Qui fait rêver les oiseaux dans les arbres
Et sangloter d’extase les jets d’eau,
Les grands jets d’eau sveltes parmi les marbres.”
there were roots that lasted for entire generations after death, there were seas of silences that were never dried, mountains were built over their ashes, whole lives were raised by their rests. stories written on the sky.
ballad of early hours. old house, silence and slow motion ruling this space. all of those memories mixed between the past and present times, nostalgia for a future written on the wall. patience and resilience, learning to save all of these in safety places of memories. documenting life as it goes.
the morning after, surrounded by silence but Philip Glass in the background. early moves and heavy thoughts, intense flow. piano keeps the rhythm.
bells ringing outdoors, a distance space after the borderline.
re-appreciation of nooks that were called home time ago. stillness of a life far from urban land, perspective of time through an entire life marking a different race, a place with open skies and mystic sense of quietness.
slow movements around. pages that one day were part of unknown books. a lifetime passing. heart is full. wide open.
back at motion, mind feels relieved. these were underestimated views for a long period of time. common events meaning a whole world nowadays. transition from past days to now. thankful for this.
motion //