Paris, septembre 2013
22.9.13
(y el cerro por donde subo no se acaba - J.Rulfo)
J'adore quand ils disent:
borrón y cuenta nueva
perder las papeles
marear la perdiz
tirar la casa por la ventana
12.9.13
en vrac
Ce sont beaucoup d'heures à penser. Ou uniquement une pensée que persiste et que suit. Peut-être ce n'est pas possible (la résistance de l'amour fou).
Bien sûr qu'il y aura des rencontres mais je ne suis pas certaine que ce soit possible de vivre avec un être aimé jouant à dompter la détermination.
La détermination, encore plus venant d'une femme éloigne les autres.
Mme Woolf:
“So long as you write what you wish to write, that is all that matters; and whether it matters for ages or only for hours, nobody can say. But to sacrifice a hair of the head of your vision, a shade of its colour, in deference to some Headmaster with a silver pot in his hand or to some professor with a measuring-rod up his sleeve, is the most abject treachery, and the sacrifice of wealth and chastity which used to be said to be the greatest of human disasters, a mere flea-bite in comparison.”
― Virginia Woolf, A Room of One's Own
Bien sûr qu'il y aura des rencontres mais je ne suis pas certaine que ce soit possible de vivre avec un être aimé jouant à dompter la détermination.
La détermination, encore plus venant d'une femme éloigne les autres.
Mme Woolf:
“So long as you write what you wish to write, that is all that matters; and whether it matters for ages or only for hours, nobody can say. But to sacrifice a hair of the head of your vision, a shade of its colour, in deference to some Headmaster with a silver pot in his hand or to some professor with a measuring-rod up his sleeve, is the most abject treachery, and the sacrifice of wealth and chastity which used to be said to be the greatest of human disasters, a mere flea-bite in comparison.”
― Virginia Woolf, A Room of One's Own
10.9.13
8.9.13
3 jours: deviner, sans toucher, la douceur d'une peau bronzée
3 dias
o perfume das raparigas nos fins de tarde do fim do Verão.
e adivinhar a doçura de uma pele bronzeada sem tocar.
j'ai pas fini
e isto (d'Eva):
o perfume das raparigas nos fins de tarde do fim do Verão.
e adivinhar a doçura de uma pele bronzeada sem tocar.
j'ai pas fini
e isto (d'Eva):
1.9.13
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