A room of one's own

Chapeau, Monsieur Dujardin!

2012-01-26T22:22:00.006+01:00

Aux arbres

2012-01-18T23:32:00.004+01:00

Arbres de la forêt, vous connaissez mon âme!
Au gré des envieux, la foule loue et blâme ;
Vous me connaissez, vous! - vous m'avez vu souvent,
Seul dans vos profondeurs, regardant et rêvant.
Vous le savez, la pierre où court un scarabée,
Une humble goutte d'eau de fleur en fleur tombée,
Un nuage, un oiseau, m'occupent tout un jour.
La contemplation m'emplit le coeur d'amour.
Vous m'avez vu cent fois, dans la vallée obscure,
Avec ces mots que dit l'esprit à la nature,
Questionner tout bas vos rameaux palpitants,
Et du même regard poursuivre en même temps,
Pensif, le front baissé, l'oeil dans l'herbe profonde,
L'étude d'un atome et l'étude du monde.
Attentif à vos bruits qui parlent tous un peu,
Arbres, vous m'avez vu fuir l'homme et chercher Dieu!
Feuilles qui tressaillez à la pointe des branches,
Nids dont le vent au loin sème les plumes blanches,
Clairières, vallons verts, déserts sombres et doux,
Vous savez que je suis calme et pur comme vous.
Comme au ciel vos parfums, mon culte à Dieu s'élance,
Et je suis plein d'oubli comme vous de silence!
La haine sur mon nom répand en vain son fiel ;
Toujours, - je vous atteste, ô bois aimés du ciel! -
J'ai chassé loin de moi toute pensée amère,
Et mon coeur est encor tel que le fit ma mère!

Arbres de ces grands bois qui frissonnez toujours,
Je vous aime, et vous, lierre au seuil des autres sourds,
Ravins où l'on entend filtrer les sources vives,
Buissons que les oiseaux pillent, joyeux convives!
Quand je suis parmi vous, arbres de ces grands bois,
Dans tout ce qui m'entoure et me cache à la fois,
Dans votre solitude où je rentre en moi-même,
Je sens quelqu'un de grand qui m'écoute et qui m'aime!
Aussi, taillis sacrés où Dieu même apparaît,
Arbres religieux, chênes, mousses, forêt,
Forêt! c'est dans votre ombre et dans votre mystère,
C'est sous votre branchage auguste et solitaire,
Que je veux abriter mon sépulcre ignoré,
Et que je veux dormir quand je m'endormirai.

Victor HUGO (1802-1885)

Golden Globes: 2012 nominations

2012-01-15T13:31:00.003+01:00

THE POWER OF A FLOWER

2012-01-08T08:30:00.002+01:00

Happy New Year!

2011-12-31T17:30:00.002+01:00

Christmas with the Tolls

2011-12-25T22:20:00.011+01:00

HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!

2011-12-25T10:00:00.003+01:00

White Christmas

2011-12-22T19:19:00.002+01:00

Chez Vivien!

2011-11-19T23:55:00.003+01:00

La Belle et la Bête

2011-11-14T22:00:00.005+01:00

Sahra Wagenknecht and Oskar Lafontaine

11.11.11

2011-11-11T23:45:00.004+01:00

Red is the ultimate cure for sadness

2011-11-02T15:05:00.005+01:00

Unfortunately, I don't like red, I just love BLUE!

Dull November

2011-11-01T10:20:00.004+01:00

"Dull November brings the blast,
Then the leaves are whirling fast."

Sara Coleridge

Halloween

2011-10-31T09:35:00.002+01:00

2011-10-29T18:45:00.002+02:00

Jolly Flatboatmen in Port von George Caleb Bingham, 1857

2011-10-27T19:00:00.001+02:00

Liszt Ferenc

2011-10-22T10:00:00.002+02:00

Liszt Ferenc (németül Franz Liszt) (Doborján, 1811. október 22. – Bayreuth, 1886. július 31.) a 19. század egyik legjelentősebb romantikus zeneszerzője, minden idők egyik legnagyobb zongoraművésze.

Soleil couchant

2011-10-21T16:28:00.020+02:00

2011-10-02T21:01:00.002+02:00

2011-09-30T23:30:00.003+02:00

2011-09-22T10:18:00.002+02:00

Because life is better with a splash of blue

2011-09-14T11:00:00.002+02:00

Midsummer day

2011-09-13T00:55:00.004+02:00

Hearts Dance

2011-09-12T09:45:00.003+02:00

Nothing but silence

2011-09-11T11:11:00.009+02:00

longing for silence

2011-09-09T18:18:00.007+02:00

longing for life

2011-09-09T18:18:00.005+02:00

Ah! Sun-Flower by William Blake

2011-09-03T18:55:00.007+02:00

Ah Sun-flower! weary of time.
Who countest the steps of the Sun;
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the travellers journey is done.

Where the Youth pined away with desire,
And the pale Virgin shrouded in snow:
Arise from their graves and aspire.
Where my Sun-flower wishes to go.

2011-08-31T18:30:00.002+02:00

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

2011-08-28T11:55:00.004+02:00

WHAT I LIKE IS SUMMER

2011-08-21T11:00:00.007+02:00

Bridget Riley

2011-08-17T12:12:00.004+02:00

Afternoon in Benrath

2011-08-15T20:55:00.003+02:00

FC Gelsenkirchen-Schalke 04

2011-08-11T21:22:00.002+02:00

Baptism of Ema and Lurée

2011-08-06T23:56:00.003+02:00

Je voulais que Paris soit très belle"

2011-08-04T02:00:00.008+02:00

2011-07-30T19:30:00.001+02:00

2011-07-24T21:35:00.002+02:00

Gerresheim

2011-07-23T18:45:00.002+02:00

2011-07-22T23:00:00.004+02:00

IN the year 1878 I took my degree of Doctor of Medicine of the University of London, and proceeded to Netley to go through the course prescribed for surgeons in the army. Having completed my studies there, I was duly attached to the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers as Assistant Surgeon. The regiment was stationed in India at the time, and before I could join it, the second Afghan war had broken out. On landing at Bombay, I learned that my corps had advanced through the passes, and was already deep in the enemy's country. I followed, however, with many other officers who were in the same situation as myself, and succeeded in reaching Candahar in safety, where I found my regiment, and at once entered upon my new duties.

Intelligence is not to make no mistakes, but quickly to see how to make them good

2011-07-19T00:33:00.004+02:00

Happy Birthday, Luísa Renée

2011-07-18T11:01:00.002+02:00

Last Day in Vienna

2011-07-16T21:30:00.004+02:00

Vienna is different

2011-07-14T22:00:00.003+02:00

Secret Garden III

2011-07-14T21:51:00.006+02:00

2011-07-12T11:11:00.004+02:00

Tristane Banon contre DSK

2011-07-08T22:30:00.003+02:00

Mondial de foot féminin : les Bleues jouent un match de prestige face à l'Allemagne

2011-07-05T20:30:00.003+02:00

A Tree in a Field

2011-07-04T18:28:00.003+02:00

2011-07-01T11:33:00.004+02:00

Mario Schifano

Germany – Canada 2:1

2011-06-26T19:54:00.002+02:00

2011-06-21T00:33:00.002+02:00

Art makes free

2011-06-16T18:55:00.009+02:00

EconoMonitor : Nouriel Roubini's Global EconoMonitor » The Eurozone Heads for Break Up

2011-06-14T17:52:00.000+02:00

EconoMonitor : Nouriel Roubini's Global EconoMonitor » The Eurozone Heads for Break Up

2011-06-02T21:45:00.001+02:00

Bob Dylan was born today in Duluth, Minnesota, in 1941

2011-05-24T11:11:00.006+02:00

1975 in Madison Square Garden in New York (Bild: Keystone)

Come you masters of war
You that build the big guns
You that build the death planes
You that build all the bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks.

You that never done nothin'
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it's your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly.

Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain.

You fasten all the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion'
As young people's blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud.

You've thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain't worth the blood
That runs in your veins.

How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I'm young
You might say I'm unlearned
But there's one thing I know
Though I'm younger than you
That even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do.

Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul.

And I hope that you die
And your death'll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I'll watch while you're lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I'll stand over your grave
'Til I'm sure that you're dead.

Happy birthday! ~ Joyeux anniversaire!

2011-05-23T21:30:00.003+02:00

2011-05-22T21:26:00.005+02:00

2011-05-19T22:22:00.004+02:00

Lovely Gui

2011-05-15T21:12:00.006+02:00

Win it once, Lena. For old times' sake.

2011-05-14T17:17:00.003+02:00

GET INSPIRED AND MAKE THINGS

2011-05-11T20:15:00.005+02:00

Happy Mother's day

2011-05-08T19:10:00.003+02:00

Porto's Queima das Fitas Parade

2011-05-07T20:43:00.003+02:00

TALK TALK

2011-05-06T20:00:00.005+02:00

She was running late, always running late, a failing of hers, she knew it, but then she couldn't find her purse and once she did manage to locate it (underneath her blue corduroy jacket on the coat tree in the front hall), she couldn't find her keys. They should have been in her purse, but they weren't, and so she'd made a circuit of the apartment — two circuits, three — before she thought to look through the pockets of the jeans she'd worn the day before, but where were they ? No time for toast. Forget the toast, forget food. She was out of orange juice. Out of butter and cream cheese. The newspaper on the front mat was just another obstacle. Piss-warm — was that an acceptable term? Yes — piss-warm coffee in a stained mug, a quick check of lipstick and hair in the rearview mirror, and then she was putting the car in gear and backing out onto the street.
She may have been peripherally aware of a van flitting by in the opposite direction, the piebald dog sniffing at a stain on the edge of the pavement, someone's lawn sprinkler holding the light in a shimmer of translucent beads, but the persistent beat of adrenaline — or nerves, or whatever it was — wouldn't allow her to focus. Plus, the sun was in her eyes, and where were her sunglasses? She thought she remembered seeing them on the bureau, in a snarl of jewelry — or was it the kitchen table, next to the bananas, and she'd considered taking a banana with her, fast food, potassium, roughage, but then she figured she wouldn't because with Dr. Stroud it was better to have nothing at all in your stomach. Air. Air alone would sustain her.
To rush , to hurry , to fret : Old English and Latinate roots, the same sad connotative stab of meaning. She wasn't thinking clearly. She was stressed, stressed out, running late. And when she got to the four-way stop at the end of the block she felt momentarily blessed because there was no one there to stop for, yet even as she made a feint of slowing and shifted from neutral to second with a quick deft plunge of clutch and accelerator, she spotted the patrol car parked just up the street in the bruised shadow of an SUV.
There was a moment of suspended time, the cop frozen at the wheel of his car, she giving him a helpless exculpatory look, and then she was past him and cursing herself as she watched him pull a lazy U-turn behind her and activate the flashing lights. All at once she saw the world complete, the palms with their pineapple trunks and peeling skirts, the armored spines of the yucca plants climbing the hill, yellow rock, red rock, a gunmetal pickup slowing to gape at her where she'd pulled over on a tan strip of dirt, and below her, a descending expanse of tiled rooftops and the distant blue wallop of the Pacific, no hurry now, no hurry at all. She watched the cop — the patrolman — in her side mirror as he sliced open the door, hitched up his belt (they all did that, as if the belt with its Mace and handcuffs and the hard black-handled revolver were all the badge they needed) and walked stiffly to her car.
She had her license and registration ready and held them out to him in offering, in supplication, but he didn't take them, not yet. He was saying something, lips flapping as if he were chewing a wad of gristle, but what was it? It wasn't License and registration , but what else could it be? Is that the sun in the sky? What's the square root of a hundred forty-four? Do you know why I pulled you over? Yes. That was it. And she did know. She'd run a stop sign. Because she was in a hurry — a hurry to get to the dentist's, of all places — and she was running late.
“I know,” she said, “I know, but... but I did shift down...”
He was young, this patrolman, no older than she, a coeval, a contemporary, somebody she might have danced alongside of — or with — at Velvet Jones or one of the other clubs on lower State. His eyes were too big for his head and they bulged out like a Boston terrier's — and what was that called? Exophthalmia . The word came to her and she felt a quick glow of satisfaction despite the circumstances. But the cop, the patrolman. There was a softness to his jaw, that when combined with the eyes — liquid and weepy — gave him an unfinished look, as if he weren't her age at all but an adolescent, a big-headed child all dressed up spick-and-span in his uniform and playing at authority. She saw his face change when she spoke, but she was used to that.
He said something then, and this time she read him correctly, handing him the laminated license and the thin wafer of the registration slip, and she couldn't help asking him what was the matter, though she knew her face would give her away. A question always flared her eyebrows as if she were being accusatory or angry, and she'd tried to work on that but with mixed success. He backed away from the car and said something further — probably that he was going to go back to his own vehicle and run a standard check on her license before writing out the standard ticket for running the standard stop sign — and this time she kept her mouth shut.
For the first few minutes she wasn't aware of the time passing. All she could think was what this was going to cost her, points on her license, the insurance — was it last year or the year before that she'd got her speeding ticket? — and that now she was definitely going to be late. For the dentist. All this for the dentist. And if she was late for the dentist and the procedure that was to take two hours minimum, as she'd been advised in writing to assure that there would be no misunderstanding, then she would be late for her class too and no one to cover for her. She thought of the problem of the telephone — she supposed she could use the dentist's receptionist as an intermediary, but what a hassle. Hassle . And what was the derivation of that? she wondered. She made a note to herself to look it up in her Dictionary of American Slang when she got home. But what was taking him so long? She had an urge to look over her shoulder, fix the glowing sun-blistered windshield with a withering stare, but she resisted the impulse and lowered her left shoulder to peer instead through the side mirror.
Nothing. There was a form there, the patrolman's form, a bulked-up shadow, head bent. She glanced at the clock on the dash. Ten minutes had passed since he'd left her. She wondered if he was a slow learner, dyslexic, the sort of person who would have trouble recollecting the particular statute of the motor vehicle code she stood in violation of, who would fumble with the nub of his pencil, pressing extra hard for the duplicate. A dope, a dummy, a half-wit. A Neanderthal . She tried out the word on her tongue, beating out the syllables — Ne-an-der-thal — and watched in the mirror as her lips pursed and drew back and pursed again.
She was thinking of her dentist, an inveterate talker, with eyebrows that seemed to crawl across his inverted face as he hung over her, oblivious to the fact that she couldn't respond except with grunts and deep-throated cries as the cotton wads throttled her tongue and the vacuum tube tugged at her lip, when the door of the police car caught the light as it swung open again and the patrolman emerged. Right away she could see that something was wrong. His body language was different, radically different, the stiffness gone out of his legs, his shoulders hunched forward and his feet stalking the gravel with exaggerated care. She watched till his face loomed up in the mirror — his mouth drawn tight, his eyes narrowed and deflated — and then turned to face him.
That was when she had her first shock.
He was standing three paces back from the driver's door and he had his weapon drawn and pointed at her and he was saying something about her hands — barking, his face discomposed, furious — and he had to repeat himself, more furious each time, until she understood: Put your hands where I can see them.

Theatres of Europe

2011-05-05T08:55:00.009+02:00

Now when Laertes and the others had done dinner, Ulysses
began by saying, “Some of you go out and see if they are not
getting close up to us”.

So one of Dolius’s sons went as he was bid.
Standing on the threshold he could see them all quite near,
and said to Ulysses, “Here they are!”

Homer~Odyssey

Le plus grand ennui c'est d'exister sans vivre Victor Hugo

2011-05-04T20:20:00.004+02:00

JOHN MALKOVICH IN RECKLINGHAUSEN

2011-05-03T18:00:00.006+02:00

The man held responsible for the terrorist attacks in New York on September 11 2001, Osama Bin Laden, was killed in a US operation in Pakistan.

2011-05-02T11:35:00.002+02:00

1er mai

2011-05-01T19:20:00.003+02:00

Tout conjugue le verbe aimer. Voici les roses.
Je ne suis pas en train de parler d'autres choses.
Premier mai ! l'amour gai, triste, brûlant, jaloux,
Fait soupirer les bois, les nids, les fleurs, les loups ;
L'arbre où j'ai, l'autre automne, écrit une devise,
La redit pour son compte et croit qu'il l'improvise ;
Les vieux antres pensifs, dont rit le geai moqueur,
Clignent leurs gros sourcils et font la bouche en coeur ;
L'atmosphère, embaumée et tendre, semble pleine
Des déclarations qu'au Printemps fait la plaine,
Et que l'herbe amoureuse adresse au ciel charmant.
A chaque pas du jour dans le bleu firmament,
La campagne éperdue, et toujours plus éprise,
Prodigue les senteurs, et dans la tiède brise
Envoie au renouveau ses baisers odorants ;
Tous ses bouquets, azurs, carmins, pourpres, safrans,
Dont l'haleine s'envole en murmurant : « Je t'aime ! »
Sur le ravin, l'étang, le pré, le sillon même,
Font des taches partout de toutes les couleurs ;
Et, donnant les parfums, elle a gardé les fleurs ;
Comme si ses soupirs et ses tendres missives
Au mois de mai, qui rit dans les branches lascives,
Et tous les billets doux de son amour bavard,
Avaient laissé leur trace aux pages du buvard !

Les oiseaux dans les bois, molles voix étouffées,
Chantent des triolets et des rondeaux aux fées ;
Tout semble confier à l'ombre un doux secret ;
Tout aime, et tout l'avoue à voix basse ; on dirait
Qu'au nord, au sud brûlant, au couchant, à l'aurore,
La haie en fleur, le lierre et la source sonore,
Les monts, les champs, les lacs et les chênes mouvants,
Répètent un quatrain fait par les quatre vents.

Victor Hugo — Saint-Germain, 1er mai 1838

«La foi, c'est le souvenir de Dieu.»

2011-04-30T21:21:00.008+02:00

I wish William and Catherine — The Duke and The Duchess of Cambridge — all the very best in their future life together.

2011-04-29T13:30:00.005+02:00

Théodore de Banville — Le Saut du Tremplin (Odes Funambulesques) de 1857

2011-04-28T11:00:00.007+02:00

Clown admirable, en vérité !
Je crois que la postérité,
Dont sans cesse l’horizon bouge,
Le reverra, sa plaie au flanc.
Il était barbouillé de blanc,
De jaune, de vert et de rouge.

Même jusqu’à Madagascar
Son nom était parvenu, car
C’était selon tous les principes
Qu’après les cercles de papier,
Sans jamais les estropier
Il traversait le rond des pipes.

De la pesanteur affranchi,
Sans y voir clair il eût franchi
Les escaliers du Piranèse.
La lumière qui le frappait
Faisait resplendir son toupet
Comme un brasier dans la fournaise.

Il s’élevait à des hauteurs
Telles, que les autres sauteurs
Se consumaient en luttes vaines.
Ils le trouvaient décourageant,
Et murmuraient : « Quel vif-argent
Ce démon a-t-il dans les veines ? »

Tout le peuple criait : « Bravo ! »
Mais lui, par un effort nouveau,
Semblait roidir sa jambe nue,
Et, sans que l’on sût avec qui,
Cet émule de la Saqui
Parlait bas en langue inconnue.

C’était avec son cher tremplin.
Il lui disait : « Théâtre, plein
D’inspiration fantastique,
Tremplin qui tressailles d’émoi
Quand je prends un élan, fais-moi
Bondir plus haut, planche élastique !

« Frêle machine aux reins puissants,
Fais-moi bondir, moi qui me sens
Plus agile que les panthères,
Si haut que je ne puisse voir,
Avec leur cruel habit noir
Ces épiciers et ces notaires !

« Par quelque prodige pompeux
Fais-moi monter, si tu le peux,
Jusqu’à ces sommets où, sans règles,
Embrouillant les cheveux vermeils
Des planètes et des soleils,
Se croisent la foudre et les aigles.

« Jusqu’à ces éthers pleins de bruit,
Où, mêlant dans l’affreuse nuit
Leurs haleines exténuées,
Les autans ivres de courroux
Dorment, échevelés et fous,
Sur les seins pâles des nuées.

« Plus haut encor, jusqu’au ciel pur !
Jusqu’à ce lapis dont l’azur
Couvre notre prison mouvante !
Jusqu’à ces rouges Orients
Où marchent des Dieux flamboyants,
Fous de colère et d’épouvante.

« Plus loin ! plus haut ! je vois encor
Des boursiers à lunettes d’or,
Des critiques, des demoiselles
Et des réalistes en feu.
Plus haut ! plus loin ! de l’air ! du bleu !
Des ailes ! des ailes ! des ailes ! »

Enfin, de son vil échafaud,
Le clown sauta si haut, si haut
Qu’il creva le plafond de toiles
Au son du cor et du tambour,
Et le coeur dévoré d’amour,
Alla rouler dans les étoiles.

Les Morts

2011-04-25T23:23:00.005+02:00

En ces heures de soir où sous la brume épaisse
Le ciel voilé s´efface et lentement s´endort,
Je marche recueilli, mais sans vaine tristesse,
Sur la terre pleine de morts.

Je fais sonner mon pas pour qu´encor ils l´entendent
Et qu´ils songent, en leur sommeil morne et secret,
A ceux dont la ferveur et la force plus grandes
Refont le monde qu´ils ont fait.

Ils ne demandent pas qu´une douleur oisive
Se traine avec des pleurs autour de leurs cercueils.

Émile Verhaeren

Joyeuses Pâques à tous

2011-04-24T00:27:00.002+02:00

Challenge

2011-04-23T15:15:00.003+02:00

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."

Mark Twain

Good Friday is also recognized as Great Friday or Holy Friday. The Easter is eminent 3 days after the Good Friday.

2011-04-22T19:02:00.004+02:00

feuilles

2011-04-18T20:32:00.004+02:00

Il pleure dans mon coeur

2011-04-17T18:31:00.003+02:00

Il pleure dans mon coeur
Comme il pleut sur la ville ;
Quelle est cette langueur
Qui pénètre mon coeur ?

Ô bruit doux de la pluie
Par terre et sur les toits !
Pour un coeur qui s'ennuie,

Ô le chant de la pluie !

Il pleure sans raison
Dans ce coeur qui s'écoeure.
Quoi ! nulle trahison ?...
Ce deuil est sans raison.

C'est bien la pire peine
De ne savoir pourquoi
Sans amour et sans haine
Mon coeur a tant de peine!

Paul Verlaine

Thought and Language — L.S. Vygotsky

2011-04-14T17:17:00.004+02:00

We are our language, but our real language, our real identity, lies in inner speech, that ceaseless stream and generation of meaning that constitutes the inner mind.

FOLLOW ME!

2011-04-13T13:10:00.002+02:00

Baumis' vivid garden

2011-04-11T21:21:00.003+02:00

Lazy Sunday Afternoon

2011-04-10T20:22:00.006+02:00

I Like that!

2011-04-02T17:17:00.004+02:00

Katie Melua - The Closest Thing to Crazy

2011-03-29T11:11:00.003+02:00

How can i think im standing strong,
Yet feel the air beneath my feet?
How can happiness feel so wrong?
How can misery feel so sweet?

How can you let me watch you sleep,
Then break my dreams the way you do?
How can i have got in so deep?
Why did i fall in love with you?

Chrous
This is the closest thing to crazy
I have ever been
Feelin 22, acting 17,
This is the nearest thing to crazy
I have ever known,
I was never crazy on my own

And now i know
That theres a link between the two
Being close to craziness
And being close to you.

How can you make me fall apart
Then break my fall with loving lies?
Its so easy to break a heart;
Its so easy to close your eyes.

How can you treat me like a child?
Yet like a child i yearn for you.
How can anyone feel so wild?
How can anyone feel so blue?

Chrous
This is the closest thing to crazy
I have ever been
Feelin 22, acting 17,
This is the nearest thing to crazy
I have ever known,
I was never crazy on my own
And now i know
That theres a link between the two
Being close to craziness
And being close to you.
And being close to you
And being close to you.

Spring is in the air...

2011-03-21T17:02:00.001+01:00

You will meet a Tall Dark Stranger

2011-02-17T20:45:00.003+01:00

My cat's name is Casimir!

2011-02-12T19:19:00.003+01:00

Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak stepped down following 18 days of anti-government protests in Cairo's Tahir Square.

2011-02-11T18:00:00.001+01:00

Open Letter from Jafar Panahi | Berlinale | The Festival | Festival Profile | Berlinale Topics

2011-02-10T21:25:00.001+01:00

Berlinale The Festival Festival Profile Berlinale Topics

The world of a filmmaker is marked by the interplay between reality and dreams. The filmmaker uses reality as his inspiration, paints it with the color of his imagination, and creates a film that is a projection of his hopes and dreams.
The reality is I have been kept from making films for the past five years and am now officially sentenced to be deprived of this right for another twenty years. But I know I will keep on turning my dreams into films in my imagination. I admit as a socially conscious filmmaker that I won’t be able to portray the daily problems and concerns of my people, but I won’t deny myself dreaming that after twenty years all the problems will be gone and I’ll be making films about the peace and prosperity in my country when I get a chance to do so again.
The reality is they have deprived me of thinking and writing for twenty years, but they can not keep me from dreaming that in twenty years inquisition and intimidation will be replaced by freedom and free thinking.
They have deprived me of seeing the world for twenty years. I hope that when I am free, I will be able to travel in a world without any geographic, ethnic, and ideological barriers, where people live together freely and peacefully regardless of their beliefs and convictions.
They have condemned me to twenty years of silence. Yet in my dreams, I scream for a time when we can tolerate each other, respect each other’s opinions, and live for each other.
Ultimately, the reality of my verdict is that I must spend six years in jail. I’ll live for the next six years hoping that my dreams will become reality. I wish my fellow filmmakers in every corner of the world would create such great films that by the time I leave the prison I will be inspired to continue to live in the world they have dreamed of in their films.
So from now on, and for the next twenty years, I’m forced to be silent. I’m forced not to be able to see, I’m forced not to be able to think, I’m forced not to be able to make films.
I submit to the reality of the captivity and the captors. I will look for the manifestation of my dreams in your films, hoping to find in them what I have been deprived of.

Forest Walk

2011-02-03T20:00:00.004+01:00

Last day on January!

2011-01-31T19:30:00.004+01:00

Write your own story!

2011-01-27T17:17:00.002+01:00

Once upon a time...

Today in 1882, Virginia Woolf, was born in London

2011-01-25T14:14:00.006+01:00

The song is called "Pink Frost" by The Chills

2011-01-19T00:00:00.003+01:00

I want to stop my crying
I want to stop my crying
But she's lying there dying
How can I live when you see what I've done?
How can I live when you see what I've done?
What can I do if she dies?
What can I do if she dies?
What can I do if she's lost?
Just the thought fills my heart with Pink Frost
I thought I was dreaming -
so I didn't heed her screaming
I'm so scared
I'm so scared
She won't move and I'm holding her head
She won't move and I'm holding her head
She's lost...Bye Bye Bye
She's lost...Bye Bye Bye
She's lost...Bye Bye Bye
Pink frost...Bye Bye Bye
I'm really not lying
I'm so scared
I'll have to stop my crying
Now she's dead
What can I do if she dies?
What can I do if she dies?
What can I do if she's lost?
Just the thought fills my heart with Pink Frost
(Oh no!)

It's up to you to find beauty in the ugliest days.

2011-01-16T03:23:00.009+01:00

Sunday in Unterrath

2011-01-09T20:02:00.005+01:00

Who I Am Makes A Difference!

2011-01-03T19:44:00.000+01:00

German Christmas

2010-12-24T15:18:00.005+01:00

Deep Winter

2010-12-20T17:40:00.004+01:00