Friday, 6 September 2013

I have been here before


          I have been here before,
              But when or how I cannot tell:
          I know the grass beyond the door,
              The sweet keen smell,
    The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.

          You have been mine before,—
              How long ago I may not know:
          But just when at that swallow's soar
              Your neck turned so,
    Some veil did fall,—I knew it all of yore.

          Has this been thus before?
              And shall not thus time's eddying flight
          Still with our lives our love restore
              In death's despite,
    And day and night yield one delight once more?

 (Sudden Light, Dante Gabriel Rossetti)

To be blunt and sentimental

I have been here before, I have done this another time, repeated the same gestures, pressed the same keys on the keyboard.  
I have even written these words. The blog that I am starting today has been hunting me for a year now, with an intensity
that almost bothered my day-to-day repeated actions.

And then, when time came, I started thinking of its appearance as one thinks of the things that bring joy. What colors to use, 
what words to write, what shape to give to all the incoming thoughts, all the unprocessed photos and all those travelled 
and travelled once more roads. It then occurred to me that beauty is simple and repetitive, that we all see the same things, 
albeit with different eyes and record them with different cameras. It is this beauty of repetition that has convinced me to start.


  1. i can't wait!!! :-)

    beauty is simple and repetitive, but also everytime like the first time, the dawn of all times (to be sentimental as well :-)
    the wonder never ceases (unless we lose the ability to see and feel, which is the most dreadful thing which can happen).

  2. dar mai pot exista oare intrebari cand ceea ce se deschide in fata noastra este o usa albastra? nu exista oare,in sunetul deschiderii ei,ceva ca un capac ridicandu-se, ceva ca o apa prin care pasim si simtim,atat de aproape,o iubire care ne-a imbratisat si ne va imbratisa din nou? si cum obrajii nostri pastreaza in ei,proaspete,razele,asa cum uneori ele se reflecta in apa, innoind-o.

    astept aceste calatorii asa cum astept sa descopar in fiecare zi viata,din nou si din nou:)

  3. multumesc, dragele mele, pentru tot ce este simplu si repetitiv in tot ce impartim.

    si pentru tot entuziasmul, bineinteles ;-)


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Starea ta naturala (perfecţiunea) nu este nici entuziasmul, nici descurajarea. Starea ta naturală este liniştea. * Iubirea musei nu e pasională, e totală. Musa cunoaşte ceva asemănător adoraţiei, dar mai adânc, mai liniştit. Vă scriu din altă lume... * (Gellu Naum: Calea Şearpelui)

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