Il Salvagocce

@ioenina

@ioenina

@ioenina

@ioenina

@ioenina

Sometimes I find myself so immersed in a strangeness that resembles me, that I feel as though I’m wrapped in a wadding of cotton then I walk into a room full of balloons and soft soap bubbles and I feel like a sharp beak that will never find a place to rest – but nobody asked you to feel at home everywhere.

The words you don’t say remain in circulation, on a merry-go-round whilst you don’t speak the words, they carry on playing in their playground waiting for the game of words to be free to be played the swing is always empty; it’s the only game they never play. words – spoken or unspoken – don’t like to come back, they say.

The more you think about it, the more your gut feeling will believe that you don’t trust him — so don’t complain later if he wanders off into the countryside, to gaze at the windmills that tell him stories of Don Quixote.

[liberamente ispirato alle endless tales di Remy Charlip, 1969]

Seasonal tips by @ioenina / MAY RHUBARB: Be flamboyant rhubarb, unexpected creature, mysterious tongue-twister! (You can’t possibly please everyone; if everyone likes you, it means you haven’t made any choices). BROAD BEAN: A treasure trove of words to be spoken—if you’re lucky, you’ll find them all on the table, on the checkered tablecloth, waiting for you. SPRING ONIONS: They looked like blades of grass—but they were substantial doubts, flavorful exclamations. CHARD: Like a book you don’t expect, with a sturdy spine and languid pages. PEAS: Ellipses a plenty — nothing left unsaid, just necklaces of precious invisible thread. LOQUAT & STRAWBERRY: Tell the difference between the stone of things vs. the surface of things. GREEN BEANS: Omit the end only if it is a green bean.

@ioenina

tutto il resto, parola, storia, narrazione narrata tradotta interpretata, mi pare decada come lo zucchero che giri giri nell'acqua fresca ma lui si deposita in fondo, e non si scioglie mai.

Who will tell the little girl that every forget-me-not she picks will become vast, defining memories - unshakable Colossi of Rhodes and blue they seemed to vanish the moment she picked them.

dove, dove arriva l'impossibile

I don’t want to pick flowers to fill a vase but out of a mad longing for love and I don’t want to draw to fill the emptiness of a box, here but out of a mad longing for truth Let my reality be free to be urgent — the golden rule of truth.

c'è un papavero appollaiato sul mio cuore, disse il papavero