Saturday, April 14, 2007

Last Time I Go to Holland

My town seen from another town

I mean to the University, after these next two weeks, then I will have just the dissertation. In the mean time.............

Check list:

1- Suitcase= done
2- Books= are there
3- Notebook=also
4- Thousand copies of my essay=everywhere
5- Passport= ok...I need a better picture by the way
6- Video for my presentation= a hundred copies
7- Presentation= is the FIRST time I will make one, I practice and I sound like retarded lol


Entering into panic, self-doubt mixed with tons of negativity.

Mood 2:

The same


I need a vacation


See you all soon!


P.s. 2: Fox if you read this, I will try to write from Holland but I am not sure if I will have the time, if not I will do it when I come back, muah

Friday, April 06, 2007

Clouds and Seagulls

I don't know why in this last month I have been fascinated by clouds and seagulls, I have taken so many pictures but with my small unprofessional camera, well few are good. Perhaps they will look nice over the black background.


It was passed from one bird to another,

the whole gift of the day.

The day went from flute to flute,

went dressed in vegetation,

in flights which opened a tunnel

through the wind would pass

to where birds were breaking open

the dense blue air -

and there, night came in.

When I returned from so many journeys,

I stayed suspended and green

between sun and geography -

I saw how wings worked,

how perfumes are transmitted

by feathery telegraph,

and from above I saw the path,

the springs and the roof tiles,

the fishermen at their trades,

the trousers of the foam;

I saw it all from my green sky.

I had no more alphabet

than the swallows in their courses,

the tiny, shining water

of the small bird on fire

which dances out of the pollen.

Pablo Neruda

He Tells Of The Perfect Beauty

O CLOUD-PALE eyelids, dream-dimmed eyes,

The poets labouring all their days

To build a perfect beauty in rhyme

Are overthrown by a woman's gaze

And by the unlabouring brood of the skies:

And therefore my heart will bow, when dew

Is dropping sleep, until God burn time,

Before the unlabouring stars and you.

William Butler Yeats