Pragal, Almada, on a Saturday morning. 9 AM feels like the middle of the night when your average bedtime is 6 AM.
Comments closedTag: winter
Just finished reading this and somehow I found that the dull atmosphere in the city today was quite fitting.
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It always surprises me more to see things like a tanker in the middle of nowhere after a long trip than seeing a pink rabbit hopping on a electric blue lawn. And this surely makes the world more interesting. Not that I see many pink rabbits mindlessly hopping, anyway. In case you’re wondering.
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Statues and their uncanny lifelikeness. The winter cruelty embraces a small womanly figure sitting all huddled, somewhere. She will still be sitting there when Summer comes, no more asleep in the snow, but basking in the warmth of the Faroese sunrays.
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The Northern seas in winter, frozen, glum and wild, still retain a little of the romantically warm vibes of more approachable waters. The sun of the North, ashamed of its weaknesses, brings comfort to the few winter passengers aboard the Faroese Norröna.
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When the child was a child,
It was the time for these questions:
Why am I me, and why not you?
Why am I here, and why not there?
From Song of Childhood
by Peter Handke
When the child was a child,
It played with enthusiasm,
And, now, has just as much excitement as then,
But only when it concerns its work.
From Song of Childhood
by Peter Handke