Back in Amsterdam
I've been arriving for the last two weeks. Everyday a bit closer to reality. Though reality is a weird concept.
No, I'm not depressed. I'm floating. To be honest, I wonder if I can ever be depressed againg. Since I did Essence, a year ago, I feel this permanent layer of soberness between me and my depression, like a cushion, like an air-bag, I can't get through it. Though sometimes it would be great to just let myself go.
I must write again.
And think.
It was a great summer. A weird, full-on summer. I had no holliday. But again, I didn't really need one.
Just check it out: citemor.blogspot.com
I'm just sorry warm weather is over before I could stop missing it.
No, I'm not depressed. I'm floating. To be honest, I wonder if I can ever be depressed againg. Since I did Essence, a year ago, I feel this permanent layer of soberness between me and my depression, like a cushion, like an air-bag, I can't get through it. Though sometimes it would be great to just let myself go.
I must write again.
And think.
It was a great summer. A weird, full-on summer. I had no holliday. But again, I didn't really need one.
Just check it out: citemor.blogspot.com
I'm just sorry warm weather is over before I could stop missing it.
posted by Marta Pisco at 3:10 PM
1 Comments:
my dear Marta my love i have just been reading your blog... it's gorgeous!
moving and tender with the gentleness of your character and the strength of your ideas and opinions!
i agree with Jost! not usual but i do! you should for sure look into writing! you do it so well with no fear or awkwardness and the clarity that i envy so much...
you know how much i relate to your topics and how similar we are, so you can imagine why it feels so special to me...
"The child sees everything in a state of newness; he is always drunk. Nothing more resembles what we call inspiration than the delight with which a child absorbs form and colour. I am prepared to go even further and assert that inspiration has something in common with a convulsion, and that every sublime thought is accompanied by a more or less violent nervous shock which has its repercussion in the very core of the brain. The man of genius has sound nerves, while those of a child are weak. With the one, Reason has take up a considerable position; with the other, Sensibility is almost the hole being. But genius is nothing more than childhood recovered at will - a childhood now equipped for self-expression with manhood's capacities and a power of analysis which enables it to order the mass of raw material which it has involuntarily accumulated. It is by this deep and joyful curiosity that we may explain the fixed and animally ecstatic gaze of a child confronted with something new, whatever it be, wether a face or a landscape, gilding, colours, shimmering stuffs, or the magic of physical beauty..."
CHARLES BAUDELAIRE - The Painter of Modern Life and Other Essays
please promise me you will consider it Marta? write just write!
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