Friday, November 19, 2010


It's great to live by the spirit, to testify day by day for eternity, only what's spiritual in people's minds. But sometimes I'm fed up with my spiritual existence. Instead of forever hovering above I'd like to feel a weight grow in me to end the infinity and to tie me to earth. I'd like, at each step, each gust of wind, to be able to say "Now." Now and now" and no longer "forever" and "for eternity." To sit at an empty place at a card table and be greeted, even by a nod. Every time we participated, it was a pretense. Wrestling with one, allowing a hip to be put out in pretense, catching a fish in pretense, in pretense sitting at tables, drinking and eating in pretense. Having lambs roasted and wine served in the tents out there in the desert, only in pretense. No, I don't have to beget a child or plant a tree but it would be rather nice coming home after a long day to feed the cat, like Philip Marlowe, to have a fever and blackended fingers from the newspaper, to be excited not only by the mind but, at last, by a meal, by the line of a neck by an ear. To lie! Through one's teeth. As you're walking, to feel your bones moving along. At last to guess, instead of always knowing. To be able to say "ah" and "oh" and "hey" instead of "yea" and "amen."  

Catherine Hessling, La fille de l’eau, Jean Renoir, 1924.
text:  Wings of Desire
image via: shinyslingback reblogged ratak-monodosico


Lydia said...

Astonishingly beautiful post! I am awestruck by the image (I see that you have it at the bottom of your page so I can see it again and again). And the words...unbelievable. And wouldn't you know that I bought Wings of Desire some months ago and that my husband and I almost watched it last week when he was off work but didn't, and this does it!... I will watch it this week for sure.

Lydia said...

pssssst. me again. Go HERE to the "word garden" of a most special poet, and you will see why I left a comment linking to your post.