Words started to fall and shaping an affable nest in my hands. Pages immersed and become profound as a forest. A deer woke up and cautiously march until reach a niche of my bare skin to kindly caress it.
My Life is made of unexpected consonances that make me smile once in a while. Sometimes, words are stollen from me and, ever and again, restituted. Thank you Flaneur for this precious gift.
“For some nights I slept profoundly; but still every morning I felt the same lassitude, and a languor weighed upon me all day. I felt myself a changed girl. A strange melancholy was stealing over me, a melancholy that I would not have interrupted. Dim thoughts of death began to open, and an idea that I was slowly sinking took gentle, and, somehow, not unwelcome possession of me. If it was sad, the tone of mind which this induced was also sweet. Whatever it might be, my soul acquiesced in it.”
J. Sheridan Le Fanu
14th of August 2016
This week, I’ve finally finished to decor my working station, I don’t even like to call it – a working space, because, for me, this place is more a hideaway, a shelter, a place of recovery than a place to work. Once in a while, I look steadily at it and I feel proud of all of this assemblage. All the flowers and the old things that I have been collecting, finding in the streets mean so much for me… Lately, I doubt so much of myself but the simple act of looking at this place makes me realize that I am capable of something, but for these results I need time… and in nowadays, we seem to have forgotten what truly means: “slow down”. Day after day, I despise more and more crowded places, cities and chaos, I would rather live in a small cute village than in a city, I long for this day so badly, but for now I’ve this improvised shelter.
I think this day deserves too a poem from Emily Brontë:
Moonlight summer moonlight
‘Tis moonlight, summer moonlight,
All soft and still and fair;
The solemn hour of midnight
Breathes sweet thoughts everywhere,
But most where trees are sending
Their breezy boughs on high,
Or stooping low are lending
A shelter from the sky.
And there in those wild bowers
A lovely form is laid;
Green grass and dew-steeped flowers
Wave gently round her head.
Found this book in Lisbon, one year ago perhaps… I was touched by the poetical and melancholic illustrations and the subject of the story.
How do you accept the lost of a friend? The sadness of it?
This book has the answers.
“One morning, the bear was crying. His bird friend had died. The Bear cut a tree from the woods and build up a little box. With berry juice, he painted the box with a beautiful color and covered the bottom of the box with petals. Than, he placed carefully his little fellow inside. The little bird seemed to be making a brief nap. His coral feathers were silky and his beak bird shined like a onyx stone (…)”
A book from Kazumi Yumoto, illustrated by Komako Sakai. Original Title: Kuma to Yamaneko.
My Saturday noon: flipping through a Cabinet of Natural Curiosities book and reading a letter that arrived yesterday from Stefany. I’ve collect plenty of sea shells on my last visit to the beach. The ones on the photo bellow are just a small amount from what I really have picked up…
I love the old book bindings, they look so nice all together. In this pile of books are some of my favorites readings: Wuthering Heights and Pride and Prejudice.
The charm of old books. Found these two in a flea market.
“Do you know, Jane, I have your little pearl necklace at this moment fastened round my bronze scrag under my cravat? I have worn it since the day I lost my only treasure: as memento of her.”
My favorite book ever.
They keep words, sentences, stories and stories helps us understand each other better. My next readings will be “A Very Easy Death” by Simone de Beauvoir and “Middlemarch” by George Eliot. Thank you livraria Flaneur .