Tuesday, 16 November 2010

lovers are always the victims of torches and chance (even - or especially those on a Paris bridge)








In the back of your car
Where the light from the stars
Caught our eyes in a moment of blue
It was then that I knew
All my feelings were true
And what lovers like us have to do

I looked at the time
And the time ran so fast
Like an arrow that flies to the heart
And I thought that a lifetime
Would not be enough time
To delight in this pleasure so dark






Photobucket





Lovers are mortal
Their hearts are the size of night clouds
Lovers are mortal
Their actions are jealous and proud
Lovers are losers
And who knows the bruises they bear
For lovers are mortal
As frail as the breath that they share

In the shadows of doorways
Where lovers are always
The victims of torches and chance
I would hold you so near
'til the scent of your hair
Sent me reeling my mind in a trance






Photobucket





Oh I still can recall
The soft music of rain falling
Silver and cool in the night
And it washed through our love
Like a river in flood
Like an ocean of tears shining bright

And I like to believe
That the memories we weave
Are the bittersweet echoes of dreams
In the evening their call strays
From yesterdays hallways
Like the faraway chimes on the breeze

Lovers are mortal
Their hearts are the size of night clouds
Lovers are mortal
Their actions are jealous and proud
Lovers are losers
And who knows the bruises they bear
For lovers are mortal
As frail as the breath that they share





25 comments:

  1. I love this dreamy painterly-picture sequence, so many narratives I could imagine...

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  2. Those days we thought would never end...

    Those days were made of wine and wind...

    But the wind has blown them clear away...

    Now we only sit and wish...

    That we had shared but one last kiss...

    -- from the Lost Poems of Martin Case

    It is wonderful to see that the floating bridge can install itself in cities all over the world, Paris, Rome, Tokyo, London, Rio, and I don't know where; bidding young lovers to come walk its length and to linger a while in its shadowy spells...

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  3. I don't know how you do it, roxana...you always manage to somehow surpass yourself! This first image is so, so incredible. mesmerizing.

    Keep well,

    b.

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  4. Sublime...Pas envie de déranger cet instant magique...
    Bises

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  5. u know, r, the 1 st reminds me of dracula (does that make me sound completely loopy?)

    really is an amazing pic.

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  6. I have felt this so deeply, without the torches or the lover,
    but only wishes in the dark.

    to see the two from above unobserved, to feel immense but unobserved as the couple,

    wow
    Di

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  7. She pressed against his shoulder, and he, thinking that somehow the gilt hands on his pocket watch would suddenly stop, slowed his breath. Later, they glanced at each other, but it would be more accurate to say that they glanced through each other, as one sees a vitreous image in a lily pond. Is it you that I see? Or is it me? You can no more possess a reflection than you can possess a semidark shadow or, for that matter, an astonished lover. It's odd how the most obvious things seem to elude us. She looked at him now, with a feather-light smile, and said, "Where will you be in twenty years?" He didn't think of her as being ephemeral, but later, having the kind of epiphany one has on mornings when the snow blankets the ground with an opalescent sheen, realized it smugly. She knew that this was a good sign, for only a long and crooked and tortuous path led to that place, the one, for lack of a better term, we call home.

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  8. Sometimes being in love is like being in a fog, a mystical dream, shrouded in a private bubble, but yes, the flame can burn too brightly and chance can be kind or cruel. It is always a beautiful trip to ride the emotions your images inspire. Always provocative. The first one blew me away...

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  9. diese Bilder sind wirklich sehr schön und doch, beobachtet man genau die junge Frau, so scheint das Glück bereits getrübt...und ich denke mir: die Liebe der Jugend ist äusserlich, die Liebe des Erfahrenen aber geht ganz nach innen... ob ich da wohl falsch liege?!
    und so fällt mir ein Gedicht ein, dazu passend, von einem Dichter, den ich sehr sehr schätze:

    When we two parted
    In silence and tears,
    Half broken-hearted
    To sever for years,
    Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
    Colder thy kiss;
    Truly that hour foretold
    Sorrow to this.

    The dew of the morning
    Sunk chill on my brow -
    It felt like the warning
    Of what I feel now.
    Thy vows are all broken,
    And light is thy fame;
    I hear thy name spoken,
    And share in its shame.

    They name thee before me,
    A knell to mine ear;
    A shudder comes o'er me -
    Why wert thou so dear?
    They know not I knew thee,
    Who knew thee too well: -
    Long, long shall I rue thee,
    Too deeply to tell.

    In secret we met -
    In silence I grieve
    That thy heart could forget,
    Thy spirit deceive.
    If I should meet thee
    After long years,
    How should I greet thee? -
    With silence and tears

    (Lord Byron)

    Dir die besten und liebsten Wünsche, Roxana!

    Renée

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  10. Such amazing work, Roxana. I'm stunned every time I visit your page. Would you mind if I posted a couple of your images on my site sometime? I would, of course, link everything back to you.

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  11. Nous sommes des univers passagers dans l'univers qui s'éternise.
    Régis Jauffret


    tes photos dans leur simplicité mette le coeur a nu..elles sont très belles..

    je t'embrasse tendrement :o)

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  12. Extraordinary images, powerful, full of atmosphere, it's like it grabs you and puts you in there

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  13. Dear Roxana,
    souls....souls....and more souls. Every image it's full of souls, made by intens souls, guiding the final result of your work.
    I could say amazing, superb, etc...but usually I don't have the write words when I see your pictures.
    I see so much pain....transformed in something sublime, extra, over....
    I see you as a wild and extraordinary artist.

    Kisses to your sould and eyes***

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  14. acest pod al iubitilor,mirabila mea,in rest umbre,si posibilitati,cum se casca el la tot pasul,inghitind si transformand fiecare vorba,gest si sarut al iubitilor,cum se naste spatiul si infinitul in fiecare lucru trait impreuna,apoi singuri,totusi impreuna,totusi iubiti,totusi intalniti

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  15. This posting prompted me to do a mental recall of the lovers I've had. I knew from a past counting coup the exact number...and on this recount, I couldn't quite match the amount with the faces and names I could conjure up from my past. Eventually, the missing few came back to me, including one whom I had cried over and pined for and anguished about for many months. All but forgotten, the ashes of those flames scattered on the winds of time. I am happy that I am no longer "carrying a torch" for anyone and hope to never do so again. There has to be some slight benefit to aging after all.

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  16. Ont ne refait pas le monde; lumière sur des jeux qui resteras longtemps comme ces moments ou tout est beau ; seul au monde.

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  17. Love was made here on this webpage!

    I must never allow myself to forget these kinds of feelings...

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  18. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=409W8TzFT8Q

    Ein Film, den ich nahezu auswendig kann. Danke für die Erinnerungen.

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  19. chère magnifique tellement gentille nouvelle amie Roxana.
    bonjour.

    Here we have another beautiful masterpeice, I love the way your photo captures the fleeting ephemeral state of love which probably is part of the reason that it is so exalting and the darkness lies in the depths of the soul that it must reach

    but where would we be without it, love from a distance or a forbiden love that may never be realized or a consummated love or memories of love its part of the music of life, it is the wine of life...

    Ive been in love with both men and women and it has been a beautiful song of life for me and pleasure must be painful........

    Here is more beautiful space here chère Roxana for interpretation...

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  20. and also maybe that is part of the reason why love and everything is painful we try to hang onto what must be fleeting.

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  21. et aussi chère Roxanan, j'aime beaucoup ici la métaphore de tenir un oiseau a la main, c'est comme tenir l'amour de l'amant.

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  22. thank you all dear ones - i will answer more tomorrow, i know i've been too slow lately :-)

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