The seed

“Long sleeps the summer in the seed”.

(Alfred Tennyson, In Memoriam)

Self-portrait (the shadows)

“Is the earth coloured red?
As I land like a flower on the meadow


I will return from the shadows
And I’ll bleed in your bed
Turn it red
Like the ground outside your window”…

(Aurora, It happened quiet)

Self-portrait (or Reborn)

“How couldst thou become new if thou have not first become ashes?”

(Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra)

Remain. Stay.

“I lie back. It seems as if the whole world were flowing and curving — on the earth the trees, in the sky the clouds. I look up,(…) into the sky. The clouds lose tufts of whiteness as the breeze dishevels them. If that blue could stay for ever; if that hole could remain for ever; if this moment could stay for ever.”

(Virginia Woolf, The Waves)

A thousand pieces

…You fell apart
Like a stone can be broken into sand
A thousand pieces
Spread across a crying land
And you can’t remember that day
But you know it happened quiet
So quiet
Words falling out through the window
All that remains is a silent call…

(Aurora, It happened quiet)

My dear Harbour III

“Well I’ll be damned
Here comes your ghost again
But that’s not unusual
It’s just that the moon is full
And you happened to call”…

(Joan Baez, Diamonds And Rust)

Walk from one window to another

“Getting closer to death… How fortunate that memory that disappears with death and only consciousness remains… Death is a window through which one observed the world, and which has been slammed shut, or lowered eyelids and sleep, or a walk from one window to another…. Death is becoming more and more simple, more and more natural…. (…) To live well means to die well. Try to die well… the whole difference between a man and an animal is that a man knows he will die, but an animal doesn’t… Death is the only place one can really go away to…”

(Tolstoy, Diaries, 1902-1910)

Light will win II (One year after)

“You can’t think of the global and close your eyes to the details.”

(Volodymyr Zelenskiy)

-my sea is blue and yellow-

Winter me (or reborn)

‘Where is the out-going freedom, the instrumental freedom from, freedom that is not this enormous possession of one’s own heart which is death?’

(Susan Sontag, Reborn)

-I wish you all a Creative New Year-

Whom I ride

“And in me too the wave rises. It swells; it arches its back. I am aware once more of a new desire, something rising beneath me like the proud horse whose rider first spurs and then pulls him back. What enemy do we now perceive advancing against us, you whom I ride now, as we stand pawing this stretch of pavement? It is death. Death is the enemy. It is death against whom I ride with my spear couched and my hair flying back like a young man’s, like Percival’s, when he galloped in India. I strike spurs into my horse. Against you I will fling myself, unvanquished and unyielding, O Death!”

(Virginia Woolf, The Waves)

– I wish you all a lovely Happy Holiday Season!

…and thank you so much for being here…