Love, that unique feeling we name everything after these days, that will fade when it touches the material things, belongings, but always attributed to them, increases the amount of purchase when named, in the quest of hearts that will embrace it.
A secret, dark love that shows itself slowly, dark, because nobody accepts it, secret, experienced at the ultimate depths, love that is “everywhere and nowhere”.
Who You Think I Am, Celle que Vous Croyez, Juliette Binoche, Safy Nebbov, Berlin International Film Festival, Camille Laurens’, François Civil, Nicole Garcia, Ibrahim Maalouf, Cortazar, Ella Fitzgerald, Love Comes Tumbling, U2,
What kind of love, passion can we speak of if we are afraid of having a “spiritual bleeding” as in Heinrich Böll’s “The Clown” Maybe we give others that dagger to others, if I feel that I have a heart is not it worth that pain, if I want to feel that I am a human being all the time, if I reject ordered love? If I want to throw away fear of the future that I don’t even know whether it will be? If I am ready to welcome the loneliness they will bring, if I prefer embracing my loneliness to suffocating hell of habits?
New roads have to be found, painful, thorny, roads trodden by bleeding feet and maybe the important thing is the road, just like in Jack Kerouac’s “On The Road.” Finding new roads, yes.
The beautiful things we experienced, the seconds we shared full of love, shiny days most people do not even dare to imagine, worth a few lives, having lived that happiness, what an awesome feeling.
A room, home where all the disturbing things, subconscious nightmares that hurt our feelings of safety are out of the door, our dream life breath. A feeling of warmth overflows from the word “home”, flowers with its warm breath in the hearts of most. As children like playing under the tables, our home is the place where we put life play on stage taking refuge in its embrace by retreating into ourselves.
Thomas Mann, the great German writer of fascinating novels, one of the most important writers of the twentieth century, deals with the artist’s mode of living away from the ordinary in his brilliant novel “Tonio Kröger.”
James Joyce wrote poems first, examples of which we can see in the novel “A Portrait of the Artist As A Young Man” .
Love, which has no end but itself, the soul never stops feeling, a kind of blaze kindled by a heavenly spark, never leaving following one’s instincts.