ask it the time to ask it to
mouth when saddened
tightens into a grimace, if not ridiculous
weighs
vacuum
soap bubble
when gently touching the surface of things
leave the smell of a new and fresh love
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Metal Sonic Screwdriver
The penetration of art and soul
A criticism that assumes to illustrate the work of art really grinding, corrupts the spoils. The criticism, however, must enter into the work, take ownership of its laws and outline again what it has set, bringing it to fruition.
Similarly describe a man means to crush, corrupt and spoil its uniqueness. E 'must penetrate the soul, make their delivery mechanisms and return the same inward movement, performed externally.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Woodbury Common Chanel Bags
The world can
Life as a story of invention, is subtended by a huge structure made of empty boxes, paths not explored and man can on this basic embroidery endless plots, always using the same few semantic functions. The plot that at any given time you are building is just one story, one of the possible worlds. This operation is only conceivable assuming a total and constant questioning of these semantics. Every choice, every step, every word must be discussed before and after its externalization. I consider this an act of extreme freedom. The encounter / clash with each other and with their world can not create a disturbance in the texture of my own. A disturbance that I have always considered appropriate for analysis and re-discussion of my history, my beliefs, my metal to light were those of the other. And so it is been with you. I threw down two lines to read them alone in the distance, against the light. They were beautiful. And so I kept writing, knowing that I would not have had time to complete the work. But I did anyway, because the beauty of interrupting a meeting would be to deprive the structure of its energy. I do not know what you've seen the question I posed. Are you a plot, a possible world. It is no small thing in the universe can be a world of others. Not a star, a dead planet, a powder, but a world teeming with life. Fight yourself and your uncertainties. Unaccustomed attention as love. Stranger in the competition with each other resulting in cancellation and reinvention of self. But io non cerco la semplice normalità: indago il non-comune, il frantumato e il frantumante. Poichè penso che è nella rottura il punto di partenza per il conseguimento della libertà e il godimento pieno. Io posso essere libero nel momento in cui non solo brucio un trama, ma scompongo l'ordine delle caselle nella struttura, perchè posso decidere come e perchè. Io credo che tu percepisca il disagio e tenti di esorcizzarlo invece che cavarne energia. Mi hai chiesto più volte, in questo tempo che abbiamo condiviso, di definire verso dove stavamo andando, come sarebbe stata l'opera una volta completa. Io non ho risposto. Non esiste una risposta. Io continuerò certamente a scrivere, poichè non sono abituata ad interrompere una trama if it still carries meaning and beauty. I tend to you because I still want to live in this world as possible. You are not the justification of a choice but a choice. 
Life as a story of invention, is subtended by a huge structure made of empty boxes, paths not explored and man can on this basic embroidery endless plots, always using the same few semantic functions. The plot that at any given time you are building is just one story, one of the possible worlds. This operation is only conceivable assuming a total and constant questioning of these semantics. Every choice, every step, every word must be discussed before and after its externalization. I consider this an act of extreme freedom. The encounter / clash with each other and with their world can not create a disturbance in the texture of my own. A disturbance that I have always considered appropriate for analysis and re-discussion of my history, my beliefs, my metal to light were those of the other. And so it is been with you. I threw down two lines to read them alone in the distance, against the light. They were beautiful. And so I kept writing, knowing that I would not have had time to complete the work. But I did anyway, because the beauty of interrupting a meeting would be to deprive the structure of its energy. I do not know what you've seen the question I posed. Are you a plot, a possible world. It is no small thing in the universe can be a world of others. Not a star, a dead planet, a powder, but a world teeming with life. Fight yourself and your uncertainties. Unaccustomed attention as love. Stranger in the competition with each other resulting in cancellation and reinvention of self. But io non cerco la semplice normalità: indago il non-comune, il frantumato e il frantumante. Poichè penso che è nella rottura il punto di partenza per il conseguimento della libertà e il godimento pieno. Io posso essere libero nel momento in cui non solo brucio un trama, ma scompongo l'ordine delle caselle nella struttura, perchè posso decidere come e perchè. Io credo che tu percepisca il disagio e tenti di esorcizzarlo invece che cavarne energia. Mi hai chiesto più volte, in questo tempo che abbiamo condiviso, di definire verso dove stavamo andando, come sarebbe stata l'opera una volta completa. Io non ho risposto. Non esiste una risposta. Io continuerò certamente a scrivere, poichè non sono abituata ad interrompere una trama if it still carries meaning and beauty. I tend to you because I still want to live in this world as possible. You are not the justification of a choice but a choice.
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