I like life well enough to want to live it awake, and so, in the very midst of my riches, I maintain the sensation of a state of precariousness, by which means I aggravate, or at any rate intensify, my life. I will not say I like danger, but I like life to be hazardous, and I want it to demand at every moment the whole of my courage, my happiness, my health.
Finally, I’m back after a week of absence. The great surprise is that the blog waited and as I see right now the ‘follow-count’ is precisely at 999, so today I will have this happy moment of making another step in the blog world, the maturity of the thousand. I shouldn’t care so much about the numbers, yet somehow I need them to keep track. There os no place for celebrating I’m heading for 10 000 from now on, work ahead. I have no idea what direction is this blog going but it seems that it goes somewhere. The goal is the same as ever, to understand art better, to maintain contact with it, to expirience it more often.
Thank you for the support in visits, likes and comments. Most of all to the commenters, who supply insightful feedback. I loved some of the ideas posted here, I really did. Special thanks to the most active readers: Bella, jumeirajames, The Global Perambulator, hitandrun1964 and Mike. See you in the next post.
Have fun today and come back tomorrow for quotes ^^
Happy. Just in my swim shorts, barefooted, wild-haired, in the red fire dark, singing, swigging wine, spitting, jumping, running—that’s the way to live. All alone and free in the soft sands of the beach by the sigh of the sea out there.
It doesn’t really matter, I’ll go where you feel
Hunt for the breeze, get a midnight meal
I point in the windows, you point out the parks
Rip off your sleeves and I’ll ditch my socks
We’ll dance to the songs from the cars as they pass
click more for the full coverage…do it, really! it’s beautiful!
‘Should the book every appear(..) people will writhe with laughter after just one page, they will leap for joy, they will be comforted, they will read on, biting their fists to suppress their cries of joy, it can’t be helped, and when they sit down by the windows and read still further they’ll begin to throw confetti to the pedestrians on the street…’