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| Today ‘my’ beloved swallows arrived and have moved into their nest above my study. How wonderful! |
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| And since four swallow families have their summer quarters around our house , ... |
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| and raise their offspring here ... |
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| ... at the end of August there will be plenty of flying activity over Seanhenge Hopefully |
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| It's once again the (International) Day of the Book. Well, and once again I do not care, but just repeat: For me 365 days in any year are days of books, and 366 in leap-years. Anyway, on Shakespeare's 460th birthday the 408th anniversary of either his dead and the death of Cervantes just to wish a very special literary evening. May my voice not put you off the realm poetry. ;-) |
Once upon a time, entering a pub one could meet people talking to eachother. Nowadays: | ||||
| 21:27 Lonesome elderly smombie |
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| 21:27 Four smombies, three of them sitting "together", whilst – hear hear! – a waitress listens to a customer. |
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| 21:38 Two more addicts. |
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| 21:42 How did people survive with but one ringtone? |
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| Oh, and this goes, "of course", also for women ... |
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| Trompe-l'œil: El revers d'una pintura emmarcada (Cornelis_Norbertus_Gijsbrechts - 1668/72) RELATS CONJUNTS |
For quite some time, at least 36 minutes, the group had discussed what a viewer might expect if Gijsbrecht's frame were reversed.
"Anyway, I think a picture dies after a few years like the man who painted
it."
"Hear, hear, Duchamp!" Manzoni smiled. "Gijsbrecht by now is up here for about 350 years, but his "Bagsiden af et indrammet maleri" can still be admired at the National Gallery of Denmark.
"Papperlapapp", intoned Schönberg, "If it is art it is not for all and if it is for all it is no art."
Braque laughed. "Arnold, you know very well that art is meant to disturb."
"Quite, Georges", Picasso nodded, "moreover, art is the lie that enables us to realise the truth."
"Excuse me, Pablo, but that's shit!" stated Conte Meroni Manzoni di Chiosca e Poggiol.
"Didn't you say the same to your son regarding his artwork?" asked Petrus.
"Yes, but only to inspire him."
"That's right." Piero Manzoni smiled. "My father inspired me to fill 90 tin cans with 30 grams of my faeces originally to be valued according to their equivalent weight in gold, thus $37 each in 1961. In August 2016, at an art auction in Milan, one tin sold for €275,000."
"Oh god", sighed Pascal, "imagination – it is that deceitful part in man, that mistress of error and falsity."
"Chauvi!" hissed Nin. "Why mistress and not man of error and falsity?"
"You won't change him after 350 years, Anaïs." Nietzsche stroked his beloved grey horse. "Blaise will never be able to give birth to a dancing star. He has no chaos in his heart."
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| La larga marcha (1996) |
Rafael Chirbes (27 June 1949 – 15 August 2015)
