âAveva qualcosa di terrificante nello sguardo: l'innocenza.â
(Luther Blisset)
#dc comics#dc#bruce wayne#batman#dick grayson#dc fanart#tim drake#batfamily#batfam


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âAveva qualcosa di terrificante nello sguardo: l'innocenza.â
(Luther Blisset)

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Innocence ~ Damirae Week 2022 (5)
Day # 5 â Just Once (Royal)
~ âI need you nowâŠâ ~
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Alright at first Damian been holding onto a brave face, but even now in the face of it all⊠he wanted to run away back to Gotham. He was in costume, wearing an ivory trench coat paired with ivory pants, that were a little to tight but at least he was able to move in them. The costumes team added golden embroidery on certain areas making Damian really become the King of Light. He was holding his white feathered mask tightly; it was a simple white domino mask.
Damian sighed heavily and walked towards the thick red curtains of the schoolâs auditorium stage. He stopped next to the student who was in charge of rolling up the curtain, being extremely carful he pushed the heavy red drop just a little to peek at the audience. His heart stopped as right in the center of the spectators was his entire family. His father, brothers, sisters, and even the familyâs butler who was a dear friend to the them; Alfred Pennyworth. Sitting next to Bruce Wayne was Clark Kent and all of his family, Lois was holding up a digital camera, ready to record the whole play.
Lâacte dâĂ©crire exige une parfaite innocence, et lâinnocence est de plus en plus rare dans ce guignol philosophique oĂč lâopinion des autres et la gloire de paraĂźtre sont reines, oĂč tout commence par un manuscrit et finit par un manuscrit. La fragile innocence, lâĂ©phĂ©mĂšre modestie sont Ă la merci de la moindre rĂ©flexion de conscience, et la conscience a tĂŽt fait de les dĂ©niaiser ! Pour sâabstenir de ce regard sur soi qui est initiation Ă la vanitĂ© littĂ©raire, pour refuser cette grande reprĂ©sentation théùtrale qui sâappelle la vie, une spontanĂ©itĂ© Ă lâabri de toute tentation serait nĂ©cessaire, ou, si la spontanĂ©itĂ© fait dĂ©faut, une vigilance de chaque instant. Car il ne suffit pas de renoncer au confort petit-bourgeois dâun cĂ©nacle, encore faut-il ne pas se laisser embrigader dans lâabsence de cĂ©nacle. Ă quoi bon refuser de sculpter notre statue, de nous considĂ©rer comme lâauteur dâune Ćuvre, si câest pour jouer le rĂŽle de philosophe marginal, si câest pour vendre du marginalisme, pour devenir le polichinelle de lâinachevĂ© ? De tous les conformismes, le conformisme du non-conformisme est le plus hypocrite et le plus rĂ©pandu aujourdâhui. Câest cela le diable qui nous Ă©pie, nous surveille, et nous guetteâŠ
Vladimir JankĂ©lĂ©vitch/BĂ©atrice Berlowitz, Quelque part dans lâinachevĂ©, Gallimard, 1978
W. B. Yeats, from âThe Wanderings of Oisinâ
I walk the fine line between furious love and sober wine, It feels better than love when I sing in rhyme and dance with time, Every word I breathe heralds the golden sun and silver moon sign, As I look at the world with eyes of love I become blind, To know is to lose yourself in the light, The mind's eye is your second sight, Gently, gently I fall softly against my capable and trustworthy arms, My masonic heartbeat senses the warning signs that sound safety alarms, I guard the hermetic caduceus with gatekeepers and ethereal charms, My breath of dragon fire rises like a phoenix with the air and falls with the rain, On old pavements, stepping stones and cobblestone memory lanes, Under my umbrella I sing the song of crickets as the moon wanes, Painting dreams that run with the night's colours in the back of your eyelids when you fall fast asleep, You are ushered through the golden gates where all wars are lost and sirens weep, Their tears of grief flow into the rivers of memory and between cracks they seep, The first and final fight their blinded eyes did not witness the see, But everywhere, everywhere, everywhere they will always be, The ones that gave up their breath of immortality and wings of eternity, In the golden deciduous and evergreen trees, the endless blue skies, the crisp morning breeze and the seven primordial seas, For winners are losers that fail to see, That fights lead to blind sight such as loss of rights and to be, Of ignorance that the sacrifice God and his angel's made for all that were and will be, So when you are ready to be, Come find me, I will be the truth to set your demons free, To help you remember the love, hope, beauty and joy you are to me, For you are all living bibles of God's first and final testimony, When he succumbed to his enemies, The next time you walk down the busy crowded streets of eternity, As you learn to stumble and walk in harmony alongside with his enemies, You will fear no violence, evil, hate or enmity, For you wear his crown of solemnity, And with the grace of death his proven innocent in purity, You his champion and herald of Liberty.
Oldliteratisoul

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Lucas my Boooiiiii ! Such a brave sweet child.
Le jour tombait, un humide crĂ©puscule agaçait les nerfs, il regarda la tombe et y ensevelit sa derniĂšre larme de jeune homme, cette larme arrachĂ©e par les saintes Ă©motions dâun cĆur pur, une de ces larmes qui, de la terre oĂč elles tombent, rejaillissent jusque dans les cieux.
Honoré de Balzac (Le PÚre Goriot, 1835)
Short poems from The Colour of Saying.