Feb 26 Silly... carine roth
I discovered that images also make music.
Serious.
My heart is aching.
Habit, but
it has to be said, it's heavy a heavy heart,
like excess weight, strange strange strange.
Everything is so incomplete.
Stupefaction without surprise.
The worst.
Notes thrown in the air,
Carried on an unfinished treble staff. Clumsy ballet.
Movement, bodies in the air, breath,
A melody that soars... and falls again.
I know, that's how it is and everything's fine
And yet, if I may say so? If you can say, as they say...
The size of our souls...
The size of our dreams,
quiet crazy sweet freedom
The size of our fears and thoughts,
almost too easy...
So be it.
Tonight, I'm dancing with the images, they too make music, a fucking melody,
On the walls.
Pretty...
Music "to make bears dance"... as Baudelaire put it.
I move a couple of things, I know it still doesn't make a symphony,
but at least a little harmony.
Never mind, we'll work it out, no matter how bad it gets.
(RIP j.Wayne)
What do you want me to say...