the blue door of my childhood, still half-open
young girl behind the blue door of waiting
the blue door of silence
where no one else can gain entry
since the entrance was assigned only to me
and I failed
as everyone else did
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This last photo is so breathtakingly beautiful. It reminded me of the blue people in the desert..how we're all at sea..and yet, what difference does it make to say "all" or "everyone else"? There is only one boat, in one sea, in one sky and one soul there that matters.
ReplyDeleteDistinctions! (a wise clown once taught me)
And the text, meaningless without the voice, as if to say: words will never get us there, since we "always remember the colours"
Thought you might like this, Roxana:
"I'll live, in a dream, in a stranger's house
Where perhaps I have died
Where the mirrors keep something mysterious".
oh you like this door of silence... sometimes it is so hard to listen to the silence of the one who is behind the blue horizon. but I am struggling to learn this. today, however, no struggle: just floating on a white cloud. in a white cloud, immersed in it, a dream in a dream.
ReplyDeletehow did you know I would like this poem, though? :-)
i used to live in a house isolated enough that if you'd sent a letter addressed to 'the house with the blue door/windows'it would've got there.
ReplyDeletei didn;t knowit when i did it but found out later that tradirionally a door would be painted blue to stop ghosts
Yes, I like it, as long as it is half-open, even though the stars assign a different fate.
ReplyDeleteHow did I know? Now, that would be telling :)
I don't like your words, though, "a dream within a dream". How very odd!
In any case, one can never trust clouds, they always disappear just when you're getting used to them.
On a certain day in the blue-moon month of September
Beneath a young plum tree, quietly
I held her there, my quiet, pale beloved
In my arms just like a graceful dream.
And over us in the beautiful summer sky
There was a cloud on which my gaze rested
It was very white and so immensely high
And when I looked up, it had disappeared.
--Brecht.
swiss: really? we don't have this saying here. but I guess we don't have blue doors around, I mean traditionally. we only use garlic to keep those vampires away :-)
ReplyDeleteanonymous: yes, never trust clouds. or people with green eyes, as we say here :-) and I don't like Brecht, but these lines are wonderful. thank you.
ReplyDeletethe blue door of silence, to shut a blue room of silence?
ReplyDelete(a pity it's summer now - so i guess i really can't quote these lines:
Mit wechselndem Schlüssel
schliesst du das Haus auf, darin
der Schnee des Verschwiegenen treibt.
[...]
Wechselt dein Schlüssel, wechselt das Wort,
das treiben darf mit den Flocken.
Je nach dem Wind , der dich fortstösst,
ball um das Wort sich der Schnee"
ffflaneur: maybe not to shut it completely, just leave it half-open :-)
ReplyDeleteof course you can quote them any time, the snow always gathers around the word, not only in winter...