We are our memory, we are that chimerical museum of shifting shapes, that pile of broken mirrors.
Jorge Luis Borges, In Praise of Darkness
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@adangerousmindconfess
We are our memory, we are that chimerical museum of shifting shapes, that pile of broken mirrors.
Jorge Luis Borges, In Praise of Darkness

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Μακάριοι όσοι ξέρουν πως ο πόνος δεν είναι στεφάνι δόξας. Ευτυχισμένος όποιος δεν επιμένει πως έχει δίκιο, γιατί κανείς δεν έχει, ή έχουν όλοι. Ευτυχισμένος όποιος συγχωρεί τους άλλους καθώς κι εκείνος που συγχωρεί τον ίδιο τον εαυτό του. Κανείς δεν είναι το αλάτι της γης, μα και κανένας δεν υπάρχει που να μην ήταν σε κάποια στιγμή της ζωής του. Ευλογημένοι όσοι διώκονται για χάρη του δίκιου, γιατί τους νοιάζει περισσότερο το δίκιο απ’ ό,τι η ανθρώπινη μοίρα τους. Οι ανθρώπινες πράξεις δεν αξίζουν ούτε για την κόλαση ούτε για τους ουρανούς. Να μην μεγαλοποιείς τη λατρεία της αλήθειας δεν υπάρχει άνθρωπος που μέσα σε μια μονάχα μέρα, να μην είπε ψέματα φορές πολλές, έχοντας κάθε δίκιο. Εγώ δεν μιλώ για εκδίκηση, ούτε για συγγνώμη, η λησμονιά είναι η μόνη εκδίκηση και η μοναδική συγγνώμη. Μην κρίνεις το δέντρο από τους καρπούς του, ούτε τον άνθρωπο από τα έργα του μπορούσαν να'ναι καλύτερα ή χειρότερα. Τίποτα δεν χτίζεται πάνω στην πέτρα, όλα πάνω στην άμμο χτίζονται, όμως το χρέος μας είναι να χτίζουμε σα να 'τανε η άμμος πέτρα... Ψάχνε, μόνο για νά ’χεις τη χαρά να ψάχνεις και όχι για τη χαρά πως βρίσκεις. Ευτυχισμένοι οι γενναίοι, αυτοί που δέχονται με τον ίδιο τρόπο τη συμφορά ή τις δάφνες. Ευτυχισμένοι όσοι αγαπούν κι όσοι μπορούν να ξεπεράσουν την αγάπη. Ευτυχισμένοι οι ευτυχισμένοι.
Χορχέ Λουί Μπόρχες, Περικοπές ενός απόκρυφου Ευαγγελίου
“Τώρα το ξέρω, το καταλαβαίνω, Κώστια, πως στη δουλειά μας – στο παίξιμο ή στο γράψιμο – κείνο που αξίζει δεν είναι η φήμη, δεν είναι η δόξα, μήτε εκείνα που ονειρευόμαστε, αλλά το να μάθεις πώς να κάνεις υπομονή… Να μάθεις να σηκώνεις το σταυρό σου και να ’χεις πίστη. Εγώ τώρα πιστεύω, κι αυτό με κάνει να πονώ λιγότερο. Κι όταν σκέφτομαι την τέχνη μου, την αποστολή μου, δε φοβάμαι τη ζωή..."
Man Ray and Lee Miller, Neck (Portrait of Lee Miller), c. 1930
"...after I jumped it occurred to me, life is perfect, life is the best. It's full of magic, beauty, opportunity, and television, and surprises, lots of surprises, yeah. And then there's that stuff that everybody longs for, but they only real feel when it's gone. All that just kinda hit me. I guess you don't really see it all clearly when you're - ya know - alive"

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Your tiny hands, your crazy-kitten smile
In haunted attics
On lollipops and crisps
Λευτέρης Βογιατζής: Από τη Sarah Kane στη Λούλα Αναγνωστάκη Από της εκπομπή “Παρασκήνιο” της ΕΡΤ
(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k9M0eYnoJ94)
Ellen Terry as Lady Macbeth
Oil painting by John Singer Sargent, 1889, Tate Britain
(UnknownArtist.)
Very Puccini
“In the summer of 1997, she gave me a copy of her play Cleansed to read; set in a concentration camp built in a former university. I was thrilled to see that it was good, if not better than Blasted. Yes, there were plenty of violent bits for her detractors to criticise, but what was extraordinary about the play was its faith in the overwhelming redemptive power of love. "Brilliant, Sarah," I said, "very Puccini." She smiled. "Yeah, well, I'm in love."
A couple of months later, she directed Buchner's Woyzeck at the Gate. It was brave but disturbing. In an already bleak play she'd removed any possibility of the slightest moment of redemption for any of the characters. I told her it was just about the bleakest thing I'd ever seen. "Yeah, well, I fell out of love," she said.”
Mark Ravenhill
Sarah Kane, playwright: born 3 February 1971; died London 19 February 1999.

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Love After Love / Derek Walcott
The time will come when, with elation you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirror and each will smile at the other's welcome, and say, sit here. Eat. You will love again the stranger who was your self. Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart to itself, to the stranger who has loved you all your life, whom you ignored for another, who knows you by heart. Take down the love letters from the bookshelf, the photographs, the desperate notes, peel your own image from the mirror. Sit. Feast on your life.
“I am grateful to have been loved and to be loved now and to be able to love, because that liberates. Love liberates. It doesn’t just hold—that’s ego. Love liberates. It doesn’t bind. Love says, ‘I love you. I love you if you’re in China. I love you if you’re across town. I love you if you’re in Harlem. I love you. I would like to be near you. I’d like to have your arms around me. I’d like to hear your voice in my ear. But that’s not possible now, so I love you. Go.”
Maya Angelou
Morning glory #skateboarding #berlin (hier: Warschauer Straße)
Αιτείτε, και δοθήσεται υμίν· ζητείτε, και ευρήσετε· κρούετε, και ανοιγήσεται υμίν. πάς γάρ ο αιτών λαμβάνει και ο ζητών ευρίσκει και τώ κρούοντι ανοιγήσεται.(Ματθ. 7, 7-8 )
in trance

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Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing there is a field. I’ll meet you there. When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about.
Rumi
Sarah Kane, born February 3, 1971