#intesse

[infinitamentemais2]

A falta de interesse na Oração

O obstáculo da falta de interesse na oração Todos os que guardarem o sábado deixando de profaná-lo, e que se apegarem à minha aliança, esses eu trarei ao meu santo monte e lhes darei alegria em minha casa de oração. Isaías 56:6-7 E você, tem interesse na oração? O quarto benefício de nosso relacionamento com Deus é sentir a paz que ele concede. A chave para a paz é a autoridade — a paz é fruto de…

[betasuppe]

Weird that I woke up thinking about Obake & Kei, but I'm not mad about it at all.

Thinking now about a separate end to CTC where before shit goes down, Bake encouraged Kei to go visit her twin sister to get away for a bit & get her out of his hair so that he could get down to business & attempt to destroy San Fransokyo.

So, it goes down like it does in cannon & shit is bad & Obake is presumed dead. Kei returns home to find her villainous life in ruins & broken-hearted that Obake clearly had no interest in involving her in his bigger plans.

Skip to a year later...

Obake survived. He himself didn't understand how he did because he clearly remembered his bunker-base crushing down around him and being gripped by the tight claws of darkness & drowning, and yet... he woke up along the shore, coughing roughly as some strangers pulled him from the wreckage.

He'd lost everything. He had some funds still left to his accounts, but had thoroughly liquidated his every other resource, since he had fully planned on San Fransokyo being no more. No home, no base, no car, NOTHING. Hell, he couldn't even track down Trina or NBB let alone he didn't want to in shame of the disappointment he'd be in his incredible failure of his master plan.

So anyways, all this time later, Obake, as Bob Aken again, is just getting by. Suffering from depleted funds, being deeply depressed, with no plans & no hope, he accidentally passes by Kei in the street & he freezes, though Kei jogs along behind an energetic dark-coated shiba inu on a leash... & she doesn't seem to even realize he existed.

Obake can't help himself but shout her name when the recognition sets in & when she comes to an immediate stop & gapes at him, Obake smiles, feeling things will finally be ok. In his fucked up mind, Kei was his back-up plan to his master plan, after all. This was all meant to be -!

So when she reigns in her doggo, who's growling the whole while, & she stands before her old flame, he smiles, preparing to be pulled into her arms & hugged with all the loving intensity that she always had for him, but instead he's knocked sensless as she socks him hard in the gut with a rough uppercut that pushes the air out of his lungs & nearly makes him lose his footing & crumple down onto his knees.

He likely remained standing out of pure ego, if nothing else.

A few people on the crowded street stop & stare as Kei huffs & puffs but says nothing more, waiting for Obake to apologize or beg for forgiveness or ANYTHING.

When he finally whispers out, "It's good to see you," Kei is at the point of tears, but she manages to fight through her fury & recognize they're not alone. She immediately reacts, grabbing onto the sleeve of his sweatshirt & dragging him off, telling him to shut up & not speak a single fucking word until they were in private... with her dog walking protectively between her owner & the stranger as if WAITING for Obake to do something so the pup could mess him up.

When they're back in her apartment - & Obake notes that it's not her old place just a few blocks away from Good Luck Alley, anymore... it's in the safe, nice part of town with furniture that's surprisingly high quality and just generally much better than what rundown conditions Kei had always called home, & he has to admit he's very impressed -, Kei unleashes her dog & Obake half expects the thing to leap at him. Instead, the pup curls up on a nearby dog bed in the corner & glares daggers his way the whole while.

They talk, with Kei angrily shouting how she had assumed him dead this whole time & how DARE he not let her know he survived - did he even have any idea how much this hurt her to learn about through a news channel, of all the damn things, & the pain she went through realizing she lost him while she was away & unable to help at all. She's pissed & hurt & demands to know why he never told her about this whole "master plan" of his and why she was excluded from it even taking place.

She needs to know if he intentionally wanted her out of the picture? She laughs. His not calling or texting her even a simple "Hey, lol, not dead :P" would've been better than NOTHING after all.

He's silent through it all, nodding & not at all displacing her blame. Obake shoulders it & winces at specific points she makes before going quiet, herself.

Before he can talk about his screw ups, he instead tries his hardest to break his own mold. He asks Kei how she's been doing, since it looks like she's been extremely well. Her new apartment, her new furniture, & just the energy about her - has life been better without him in it?

Kei sighs & tells him that she had to put a stop to her villainy without him & put her entire heart into her music. She'd been doing small tours, selling a huge amount of merch & had become something of a thing in the electronic music scene, especially with her escapades in badassery still following her around town. She's been suffering through it, but she loves it & she's managed switching her whole life around. She's been working on studying her leeches again & using them for helpful research rather than mind control &... it's been weird & different, but she's doing OK, especially with Chocolate Chip Cookie, her newly adopted puppy.

So now, she asks, what is he even doing here?

He struggles to find the words, but puts it very bluntly that he has very little left to his name. After being released from the hospital due to his injuries after the event in question, he roamed around. He'd stay at awful motels with cheap rates so he had a roof over his head. He just shuffled from one place to another, without a purpose or a drive. Just... existing.

Eventually after more silence, Obake quietly admits to himself & Kei both ehat he had tried to ignore the whole time... the reality of his situation was that Obake had hoped he would die in his own failed experiment. He'd fully planned for his own death & had wanted Kei happy & cut out of the picture for her own good, not like his safety net & back up plan like he dreamed it could be, just instead... keeping her out of the mess he'd created.

It makes Kei angrier at first but then the tears start bubbling up in her eyes. She hastily jumps off the couch & pulls him into a hug. Through sobs, she ensures he is aware that he's not at all forgiven, she's just glad he's back & alive.

He hugs her back, his actions disconnected from how he now felt, realizing from Kei's reaction just how badly he fucked up. It's eye opening & the first time he truly recognized he had done wrong.

Kei eventually breaks her hold on him & wipes her tears, asking where he's staying now. He admits it's a terrible dive in a rough neighborhood. She grabs her jacket and her keys, telling him that he'll be staying with her till he's back on his feet. She decides they're going to pick up his few belongings and move him in with her for the time being.

Obake starts telling her "thank you," but she cuts him off before he can finish, letting him know that he still has to make up to hell & back for ditching her in all this. Things aren't magically fixed & she still can't help but dispise him a bit at the moment... but she still cares about him and is going to set him right.

No big evil villain mastermind plans, just her friend / her ex - not even boyfriend lol - crashing on her couch until he can figure himself out.

She knows he needs actual medical attention for his brain trauma & a lot a lot a lot of therapy that she's inclined to sign him up, even if it's against his will, but... he even admits he's broken now. It's a rough step in the right direction, at least.

She hates herself for still adoring him but despite him being the way he is & all, she cares for him deeply & intends to see him out of this darkness, if she can help in doing so at all.

[nachosforfree]

Not to get on my gravity falls soapbox again but it pisses me off so bad when people are like "but Mabel started the apocalypse!!!" It's like No she did not. That was Bill. That very explicitly was Bill. The guy who frequently manipulates people into doing something they don't know will benefit him? He took the rift and broke it. Mabel didn't even fucking break it dude. Like she didn't even know what it was

[xx-clementine-xx]

not much thoughts just pls want Lu Guang to have a breakdown scene where he confesses everything to Cheng xiaoshi

never gonna happen but we can dream~

[ninoelesirene]

A volte il pensiero di chi amiamo è così potente da acquisire una forma autonoma, esterna a noi stessi.

È una presenza muta e gigantesca. Non sempre la interpelliamo e non sempre chiede attenzione, ma ci accompagna e osserva.

Aspetta il nostro risveglio, manifestandosi appena prima dell’attimo in cui ci riscopriamo vivi; durante il giorno danza intorno a noi, mentre intesse un’incessante sinfonia di segni tra le cose del mondo; riappare prima del sonno, quando infila una mano bambina tra il nostro ultimo secondo di veglia e l’oscurità.

[julianmorrow52]

Gli incantesimi si ripercuotono su chi li intesse...

Amica cara.. ritorna presto.

#parigi

#attesa

#tristezza

[carmenvicinanza]

Cecilia Vicuña

La donna di oggi è Cecilia Vicuña, artista visiva, poeta e attivista cilena, nota per le sue performance poetiche che rivendicano la sua identità femminile provando a riscrivere la storia della cultura indigena.

È creatrice di una poetica speciale che interseca arte e coscienza ecologica.

Il suo lavoro porta avanti conoscenze millenarie attualizzate con performance, film, installazioni, sculture, libri e gesti della vita quotidiana.

Ha scritto 25 libri di arte e di poesia, tradotti in sette lingue e anticipato i più recenti dibattiti su ecologia e femminismo decoloniale, immaginando nuove mitologie personali e collettive. Molte delle sue installazioni sono realizzate con materiali trovati e detriti abbandonati che intesse in delicate composizioni, nelle quali il microscopico e il monumentale trovano un fragile equilibrio, la sua arte è precaria, intima e, insieme, potente.

I suoi dipinti si ribellano alla forma, mettendo al centro l’immaginazione di una donna indigena.

Oggi le sue opere fanno parte delle collezioni di importanti musei tra cui il Guggheneim, il MoMa, la Tate, il Museo d’Arte Latinoamericana di Buenos Aires e il Museo Nazionale delle Belle Arti di Santiago del Cile.

È nata a Santiago del Cile il 27 luglio 1948 in una famiglia di artisti e intellettuali. Dal 1966, dopo aver iniziato con tele astratte, ha iniziato a lavorare a un  progetto che ancora oggi porta avanti, le precarios, sculture assemblate con materiali da recupero, esposte agli agenti atmosferici e alle maree.

Nel 1967 ha fondato il suo primo gruppo, Tribu No, che realizzava azioni artistiche collettive nella città di Santiago.

Nel 1968 ha pubblicato il suo primo poema sul periodico messicano El Corno Emplumado.

Dagli anni ’70, il suo lavoro si è confrontato visivamente e poeticamente con i rituali dell’America latina, delle popolazioni aborigene australiane, del Sudafrica e dell’Europa paleolitica. Le sue esibizioni, installazioni site-specific, quipu, sculture, dipinti, disegni e testi legano il filo rosso al sangue mestruale e alla continuità della vita.

Dopo aver esposto per la prima volta al Museo Nazionale delle Belle Arti di Santiago ed essersi laureata in Belle Arti, nel 1972 è partita per Londra per specializzarsi alla Slade School of Fine Art.

Si trovava in Gran Bretagna quando, l’11 settembre 1973, c���è stato il violento colpo di stato militare contro Salvador Allende guidato da Pinochet e ha chiesto asilo politico.

L’anno seguente ha fondato il gruppo Artists for Democracy per raccogliere fondi per la Resistenza cilena e organizzato il Festival of Arts for Democracy in Chile che ha visto partecipare 320 artisti e artiste internazionali tra cui Julio Cortázar, Christo e Sol LeWitt. Durante il Festival erano stati denunciati i soprusi commessi dalla dittatura militare di Pinochet e dalle altre dittature dell’America Latina e la violazione dei diritti umani.

Nel 1975 si è trasferita a insegnare storia dell’arte e poesia latinoamericana all’università di Bogotà, ha lavorato in ambito teatrale e condotto laboratori artistici con la comunità guambiana della Valle del Cauca, esperienza che l’ha portata ad approfondire il suo legame con la cultura indigena.

Quando al Concorso nazionale di poesia Eduardo Coté Lamus le è stato negato il premio a causa del tono erotico e irriverente della sua opera, è partita una serie di azioni artistiche di protesta che le hanno dato grande fama. 

A questo periodo risalgono le Palabrarmas, neologismo che unisce le parole (palabra) con le armi (armas), concretizzate attraverso varie tecniche artistiche che spaziano dal disegno alla performance, dalla scrittura ai film, come risposta poetica alla distorsione del linguaggio e alla violenza delle menzogne. 

Nel 1980 ha realizzato il suo primo documentario, ¿Qué es para usted la poesía? (Cos’è per voi la poesia?), oggi nella collezione del MoMA.

A New York ha collaborato con il periodico Heresies: A Feminist Publication on Art and Politics, leggendario gruppo di artiste e intellettuali femministe.

Nel 1981 ha esposto per la prima volta al MoMA, nella collettiva Latin American Video. 

Tra i viaggi in giro per l’America Latina e gli Stati Uniti, producendo reading, performance poetiche e esposizioni, non ha mai smesso di scrivere libri.

Nel 1995 ha tenuto il primo seminario con la comunità rurale di Caleu, in Cile, per promuovere la riscoperta delle conoscenze ancestrali dando origine a un metodo di educazione decolonizzatrice che ha chiamato Oysi, titolo che ha dato alla sua organizzazione senza scopo di lucro.

Nel 1997 è stata pubblicata la biografia The Precarious. The Art and Poetry of Cecilia Vicuña. L’anno successivo ha realizzato la prima mostra multimediale Cloud-net, dedicata al riscaldamento globale e all’estinzione delle specie e delle civiltà, temi che denuncia e porta avanti, instancabile, in ogni suo lavoro.

Numerose sono state le esposizioni e retrospettive tenute in giro per il mondo e le conseguenti acquisizioni da parte dei più importanti enti museali internazionali.

Nel 2015 è stata nominata Messenger Lecturer per il Dipartimento di Antropologia della Cornell University per contribuire all’«evoluzione della civiltà con lo scopo specifico di elevare lo standard morale della nostra vita politica, commerciale e sociale».

Nel 2017 ha partecipato a documenta 14, una delle più importanti esposizioni d’arte contemporanea nel mondo.

Nel 2018 ha ricevuto il premio Achievement Award assegnato da Cisneros Fontanals Art Foundation ed è stata nominata Sherry Memorial Poet in Residence 2018 per il Programma di poesia e poetica dell’Università di Chicago.

Nel 2019 ha ricevuto il Premio Velázquez di arti plastiche assegnato dal Ministero della cultura e dello sport della Spagna.

Al Centro Cultural España di Santiago del Cile, ha presentato Minga del Cielo Oscuro, convocando personalità del mondo dell’arte, astronomia, archeologia, musica ed etnomusicologia per riflettere sull’oscurità del cielo notturno e sulle molteplici conseguenze ecologiche, neurologiche e sociali della sua scomparsa.

Il 23 aprile 2022 è stata la prima artista cilena a ricevere il Leone d’oro alla carriera alla Biennale di Venezia. Per l’occasione ha realizzato l’installazione site specific NAUfraga, dedicata alla fragilità (fraga) della laguna.

Il 3 maggio 2023 ha ricevuto la Laurea honoris causa dall’Università del Cile.

Per i suoi meriti, la poetica, l’instancabile ricerca e il fervente attivismo, si può considerare tra le più interessanti protagoniste dell’arte contemporanea.

[bananartista]

Risate astrali - Entity 16012

Risate astrali come fate in estasi criptica in un’oasi di alati vorticirifulgono nell’arpa arcana che intesse circensi incanti decifrando spasmi d’armonia

[min-yunki-agustd]

Hi! I need to say thay you're a really good writer! and my question is: you said once that sickfic day 3 of the sicktober (Jk being sick at the airport/plane and getting cared by Joonie) could have a part 2. This request will it be done? I'm about intessed in what will happen after jk's fainting.

Thank you! That means a lot to me! I wasn't going 👀 to but I most definitely will now lol. I almost accidentally left yall on a cliffhanger my bad.

link to part 1: ( warning way too many editing mistakes) https://min-yunki-agustd.tumblr.com/post/697138312051343360/day-3-

Airplane Part 2

sickie: jk

caretaker namjoon

tw: mention of nausea, emeto, etc

word count: almost 1k ����

____________________________________________________

Jungkook's Pov

it's dark. no, I can't open my eyes.

Jungkook is becoming aware that he's not conscious but is struggling to gain consciousness. He tries moving his limbs but they were still. It was like he was in sleep paralysis only his head was extremely foggy and he can't see anything. He slowly begins to come back to reality. Though He's still unable to lift his heavy eyelids he's become more aware of what is happening behind his body. There is yelling. lots of noise. He hears many voices but the closes voices he could hear were the sound of medical professionals. He figured since they sound so official. He couldn't really tell because though there loud the actual words are jumbled up in his brain. A slightly more distant voice but more familiar voice though grumbly and low. Namjoon? he thought in his own head. He focused back on his surroundings. The soft humming sound of the plane was gone. As if the plane ride was over. He began to come back to reality faster when he felt cold metal touch his arms. He could hear namjoon's voice again. he sound like he was saying something comforting. whatever he said helped Jungkook was scared.

NamJoon POV

namjoon watched over the younger telling him "everything is ok Jungkook your going to be alright." namjoons eyes were a little watery. from the moment jk fainted to when the plane landed namjooon held Jungkook in his arms doing the best he could until help could come. He yelled out and flight attendants came bursting in. He kinda expected the other members to come running as so as he yelled but he learned later that they were forced to remain seated by other flight attendants. The flight attendants fanned jk's splayed body They told the pilots and they did an emergency landing. Calling emergency services so that they'd already be there by the time they landed. Namjooon had to keep it together. No matter how many times he yelled his name jungkook would not wake up or even move for that matter. It felt like ages before they reached the ground and when they did and emergency services came to help, namjoon gave him all the information he could. explaining his parlor complexion, his slightly unusual behavior, and he's going back and forth to the bathroom being ill. Right after He was lifted up and placed on the gurney. Namjoon quickly announced ' HE"S WaKing UP" coming out a little louder than he thought it would. Jungkook's once limp body regain a little life when his eyes squeezed tight and fluttered open. Halfway opened against the blinding lights. the paramedics are plugging him up to things checking his pulse and strapping him onto the gurney.

JK Pov

He was finally out of the dark place he was stuck in. The moment of happiness for finally being away was washed away when the pain came back instantly. He whinnied and squirmed in place. His head felt like tenth thousand pounds weighs. He was dizzy and tho he felt an emptiness in the pit of his stomach he felt nausea rise in his throat. His stomach threatened to lose the bout of stomach acid that plagued his throat before he passed out. In summary, he felt awful now that he was awake. The pain in his stomach made him thrash a bit and fight the restraints that held him safely in the chair. shifted a bit. The pain and making him irrational. That was until he felt a gentle warm hand rest against his arm. It calmed him a bit knowing namjoon was with him.

No pov

The paramedics rolled him off to the ambulance. They had replaced the plane steps with a machine that rises and lowers. Namjoon was allowed to stay with jungkook. Before leaving completely namjoon told the others to tell the manager what was going on and namjoon said that as soon as he could he'd give the name of the hospital so that the rest of the members can come. Namjoon knows they'll probably realize the lie when they see Jungkook's file but namjoon doesn't care that's a concern for hybe. On the way to the hospital was having trouble with his stomach and had to be given a bag. Before he could even tell anybody a splash of clear sick burst from his throat and then lips. Making a mess of his face and his hand when he slapped it against his face. In an attempt to contain the sick. He kept his head in the bag for the rest of the ride after that incident. It was an uncomfortable situation for his stomach but as long as joon was there he felt like he was ok. They made it to the hospital safely. Jungkook was immediately taken to a room and given ivy fluids to regain all the nutrients and hydration he'd lost. He was given serval tests to see what was wrong but after three tests he was told to rest. The members managed to come as soon as namjoon sent off the text of the hospital's name. Jungkook wasn't quite like himself but he looked better than before. During their stay at the hospital (Jungkook and namjoon) namjoon did everything he could for jk. When he needs another pillow, namjoon would call the nurse. When jk needs meds Joon made sure he got them, Namjoon even filled outJungkook's paperwork. When things were a bit more settled and jungkook finally felt like getting rest namjoon brought over a chair and gently played with the younger hair knowing that this movement would sure put him to sleep faster.

Once jungkook was snoring namjoon for a second to himself to relax, it was late and he hadn't even realized how tired he was getting. He walked across the hospital room and turned off the lights. He sat back down in his chair and began to fall asleep himself...

___________________________________________________________

To Be Continued...

If this fic repeats it self please let me know inn the comments my computer was being weird.

[linyarguilera]

Hey, sim, eu também tenho promoção de fim de ano para você! Se você escreve em português, sinta-se a vontade para enviar-me seu e-book em PDF, e após ler com muito carinho eu faço uma resenha aqui para você gratuitamente, avaliando o que eu achei de mais positivo na sua criação, afinal de contas é importante analizar o núcleo do átomo onde se encontram os prótons. Caso se intesse envie no e-mail: celinyarguilerarede27@outlook.com E não se esqueça de me enviar o seu @ (user) do Instagram para que eu possa lhe marcar na publicação. Obrigada pela atenção! 🥰 #book #livro https://www.instagram.com/p/Cl9OlUHO0tL/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[alessandrofogo]

Hang a crocodile outside for the unbelievers solo show at Cassina Projects, Milan, IT 21/02 - 15/04/2023

ENG:

The title evokes a Catholic custom dating back to the 15th century, that of hanging a stuffed crocodile inside spaces devoted to the Marian cult. Held high up, chained and hanging upside down from the ceiling, crocodiles were said to be rendered harmless in this way, depleted of the evil they were symbolically associated with in medieval bestiaries as much as in biblical iconography.

Sourcing the myths around the Marian cult and the multifarious forms of female idols through history, Fogo has woven together his own narratives where ancient archetypes and contemporary references dovetail as he flirts with mystical symbology and suspended narratives. Emblematic of the artist’s lexicon, the large-scale canvas which features a siren and a stuffed crocodile. Their coexistence despite the unrelated, rather at odds, natures, emphasizes the symbolic charge while offsetting preconceived notions and discouraging any moral judgement.

For the occasion, an architectural intervention has been conceived of to fraction the gallery space carving a more intimate, chapel-like area reminiscent of a crypt. Against a deep sage green, the elusive figures and motifs camouflaging within the artist’s enigmatic canvasses inhabit this dimly-lit chamber where temporal dimensions overlap.

Mining the ambiguous yet familiar territory of the plausible, Fogo conjures up somewhat hermetic compositions porous to invisible and dream-like worlds. Visionary and allegorical, his paintings unravel a non-linear notion of time and space and evoke an enduring, almost voyeuristic nostalgia which is further dramatized by the skilful detailing of the scenes.

Fogo’s works retain a metaphysical, at times almost tactile quality. Crepuscular tones and the intense use of shadows and unnatural light foreground the subliminal over the rational. Arching from cerulean, livid blues to metallic greens and deep reds, his palette of contrasting tints softly fades into pastel-like, muffled nuances. Historical references, everyday objects and collective symbols dot the compositions, their non- hierarchical display touching on the disorienting coexistence of universal scope and individual dimension in the iffy present. ITA: Il titolo della mostra evoca una particolare usanza cattolica risalente al XV secolo, quella di appendere un coccodrillo impagliato all'interno di spazi dedicati al culto Mariano. Sospesi per aria, incatenati al soffitto ed appesi a testa in giù, questi coccodrilli venivano in tal modo resi innocui, privati del male a cui erano simbolicamente associati nei bestiari medievali così come nell'iconografia biblica. Muovendo dai miti legati al culto Mariano e dalle molteplici rappresentazioni degli idoli femminili nel corso della storia, Fogo intesse una sua sceneggiatura intrisa di simbologia mistica e narrazioni sospese in cui archetipi antichi e riferimenti contemporanei si intrecciano. Emblematico di questo linguaggio, è il dipinto di grandi dimensioni che raffigura una sirena ed un coccodrillo impagliato. La loro coesistenza sul piano pittorico, nonostante le rispettive nature risultino distanti ed evidentemente opposte, ne enfatizza la carica simbolica vanificando preconcetti e scoraggiando qualsiasi giudizio morale. Per l'occasione, è stato concepito un intervento architettonico inedito che frammenta lo spazio della galleria ricreando un'atmosfera più intima in un’area che ricorda le sembianze sacrali di una cappella o di una cripta. Immerse in uno sfondo di profondo verde salvia, le figure enigmatiche ed i motivi sfuggenti che si mimetizzano sulle tele sembrano abitare questa camera in penombra in una dimensione temporale indefinita, dove le chiavi di lettura ed i riferimenti si sovrappongono. Esplorando il territorio ambiguo ma familiare del verosimile, Fogo dà vita a composizioni ermetiche che si aprono a mondi invisibili ed onirici. Visionari ed allegorici, i suoi dipinti rivelano una concezione non lineare di spazio-tempo ed evocano una nostalgia persistente, quasi voyeuristica, drammatizzata ulteriormente dai preziosi dettagli delle scene. Le opere di Fogo conservano una qualità metafisica che alle volte si restituisce in maniera quasi tattile. I toni crepuscolari e l'uso intenso ed innaturale di luci ed ombre pongono in primo piano il subliminale rispetto al razionale. Passando da blu lividi e cerulei fino a verdi metallici e rossi profondi, la sua palette di tinte contrastanti sfuma dolcemente in morbide tonalità pastello. Riferimenti storici, oggetti di uso quotidiano e simboli collettivi costellano le sue composizioni disegnando un universo privo di gerarchie culturali che ci rimanda alla disorientante coesistenza tra una dimensione di portata universale ed una più intima ed individuale nell’incerto presente.

[poesiayotrasletras]

ALBINO CROVETTO | Genova 1960

Par Oktawiusz — Travail personnel, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=36183193 Genova, con i suoi vicoli, è il canovaccio su cui Albino Crovetto intesse la sua poesia. Un’urbanità fatta di piante che si arrampicano su muri scrostati, di asfalto che si screpola sotto i passi, di un grigio che sfuma nel nero e si mescola al mare. Lo sguardo del poeta è una lente…

[paoloferrario]

VALERIO ONIDA, La Costituzione, Nuova edizione a cura di Marta Cartabia, Il Mulino, 2024

il Mulino – Volumi – VALERIO ONIDA, La Costituzione https://www.mulino.it/isbn/9788815386762 In poche pagine, Valerio Onida ci racconta da dove viene la Costituzione italiana. Il suo linguaggio, i diritti che afferma, la Repubblica che costruisce e le relazioni internazionali che intesse, sono il risultato di un cammino storico che continua anche nel presente. Nel 75º anniversario dell’entrata…

[ochoislas]

LA NOCHE HERMOSA Devetachi, 24 de agosto de 1916

Qué canto se alzó esta noche que urdió con cristalino eco del alma las estrellas

Qué fiesta surgía de alma en esponsales

Fui restaño de sombra

Ya muerdo como un niño la teta del espacio

Ya estoy ebrio de universo

*

LA NOTTE BELLA Devetachi il 24 agosto 1916

Quale canto s'è levato stanotte che intesse di cristallina eco del cuore le stelle

Quale festa sorgiva di cuore a nozze

Sono stato uno stagno di buio

Ora mordo come un bambino la mammella lo spazio

Ora sono ubriaco d'universo

Giuseppe Ungaretti

di-versión©ochoislas

[naoristerling]

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[nenays]

Tem intesse em alguém daqui?

Não muito, mas tenho ☝🏻