On your mark

The Ferrari mechanics who are going to get so much crap

Lesson in life: Never, never underestimate the dark Spanish horse.

My name is speed

Tonight at Noon by Adrian Henri

»Stumbled upon when searching for Damien Hirst's butterflies.

Tonight at noon
Supermarkets will advertise threepence extra on everything
Tonight at noon
Children from happy families will be sent to live in a home
Elephants will tell each other human jokes
America will declare peace on Russia
World War I generals will sell poppies on the street on November 11th
The first daffodils of autumn will appear
When the leaves fall upwards to the trees

Tonight at noon
Pigeons will hunt cats through city backyards
Hitler will tell us to fight on the beaches and on the landing fields
A tunnel full of water will be built under Liverpool
Pigs will be sighted flying in formation over Woolton
And Nelson will not only get his eye back but his arm as well
White Americans will demonstrate for equal rights
In front of the Black house
And the monster has just created Dr. Frankenstein

Girls in bikinis are moonbathing
Folksongs are being sung by real folk
Art galleries are closed to people over 21
Poets get their poems in the Top 20
There're jobs for everybody and nobody wants them
In back alleys everywhere teenage lovers are kissing in broad daylight
In forgotten graveyards everywhere the dead will quietly bury the living
and
You will tell me you love me
Tonight at noon.

Devastating.

But (and?) such a beauty.

Hands

I am fascinated by her hands.

And she is fascinated by my camera, which can immediately playback her hands.

Oh, and that charming rosary.

Recalling crepuscular Venice

In some prologue, I remembering writing the phrase "crystal and crepuscular Venice". Twilight and Venice are for me practically synonymous words. Twilight for us has lost its light and is fearful of nighfall, while the twilight of of Venice is delicate and eternal, without a before or an after.

-Jorge Louis Borges, "Atlas"

The riddles are three, life is one

In the dark night flies a many-hued phantom.
It soars and spreads its wings
above the gloomy human crowd.
The whole world calls to it,
the whole world implores it.
At dawn the phantom vanishes
to be reborn in every heart.
And every night it is born anew
and every day it dies!

»Riddles of Turandot