“oh, how I enjoy the light
of the first morning forever
wisdom, wealth tag on like afterbirth
I will love you forever
but if I don’t and if I do
the difference exists in a fiction
the day has cooled the time will too
when we will call upon the light”
(Source: antonioandrade)
“O contato verdadeiro entre os seres só pode ser estabelecido pela presença muda, por uma aparente não-comunicação, por aquela misteriosa troca sem palavras que se assemelha a uma oração íntima.”
“But what would you think of an anterior state of suicide, a suicide that would make us retrace our steps on the yonder side of existence rather than the side of death. For that would be the only suicide that might make sense to me. I feel no hunger for death; I simply hunger not to be, never to have dropped into this sink of imbecilities, abdications, renunciations, and obtuse contacts which make up the conscious self of Antonin Artaud and even weaker than he is. The conscious self of this wandering invalid, who from time to time keeps trying to exhibit his shadow, which he himself spat on long ago; this self on crutches, limping along; this virtual, impossible self which nevertheless is part of reality. None like him ever felt this weakness, yet his weakness is the most important weakness of all mankind. To be destroyed, not to exist.”
Antonin Artaud, Is Suicide a Solution?
(Source: notesfromaboveground)
Paisagem na Neblina, Theo Angelopoulos (1935-2012)
LANDSCAPE IN THE MIST is a film about the void. It is a film about despair, about the failure of contemporary society. The prodigal father who figures in almost every Angelopoulos film here has evaporated into his mythical essence - leaving his children to become the wanderers in search of him. In the «chaos», two children appear, little Alexandros and his older sister Voula. In order to exorcise their loneliness, they invent a secret universe for themselves, inhabited by their dreams. Every night they go to a train station to watch the departure of a train to Germany, where they have been deceived by their mother (herself an off-screen presence) into believing that their absent father is living. One night they finally dare to get on the train. But their voyage turns out to be hazardous and pointless and disappointing. They confront suffering, physical and moral illness, jealousy, evil and death, if also love - as many ordeals and rites as initiations. Evading the half-hearted pursuit of the police and uncaring relatives, sneak onto trains, hitchhike in vans and lorries, and suffering poverty, rape and exploitation, take a dangerous leap of faith, an eerie plunge into liberation and danger. The familiar Greek landscape - the cafes, the depopulated towns and deserted beaches - are played for a strangely harsh fairytale quality, seen through the eyes of two children whose introduction to the real world borders on the surreal. The film is filled with extraordinary, unforgettable moments that are at once real and hallucinatory and contains intriguing references to other Angelopoulos’ films. The children even encounter the Travelling Players now, thirteen years later, without a stage to act on, their costumes put up for sale. At the end Alexandros tells Voula the same story from Genesis that she told him at the start: «In the beginning there was chaos.» The children do finally reach the border, but of course there is no border with Germany and perhaps the river they cross is actually the Styx and perhaps their whole journey was a search for order in a chaotic world.
(Source: weheartit.com)
“Nonhuman animals don’t seem to “care” about their pain to the same extent that humans do. Caring about pain as opposed to pain itself goes by another name: suffering i.e meta-consciousness of pain. While it is plausible that some nonhuman animals have the capacity for a kind of protosuffering, it seems clear to me that human suffering is of a level of sophistication far beyond that of any nonhuman animal.”
Allison Schulnik, Wolf, 2009
Julia Galdo
