Friday, 30 November 2012 @07:39
"The married man dreamt last night
of a house that someone’d left him,
the sort of house you have in dreams,
a thousand rooms, one corridor. He wandered
round alone, he told me, smiled
his quiet, inward smile. And found
a secret garden, high walled, locked, odd
velvet green. There, a window looked
towards the ocean. He flexed his pale hands,
I had, he said, the key. His wife touched
their girl asleep, a lush and heavy animal,
and watched him, knowingly, satisfied".
That window towards the ocean, ours and ours only. If you’d only come.
Kate Clanchy, a British poet. I like that window looking towards the ocean. And what dreams tell us, even if we don't want to listen.
Friday, 23 November 2012 @08:25
"The perfume I dream of should smell of old books, of my grandmother’s wax floor polish, of rainy afternoons, sexy lingerie and suspended desires… And apple pie".
The perfume of suspended desires, of deferred desires, desires left hanging: only imagined, in my new book, will become a real perfume tonight, in Firenze, in Aquaflor’s perfume shop. How magic.
Friday, 16 November 2012 @08:14
"It’s never too late to have a happy childhood"
Do love your inner child.
Somebody remembers "Still life with woodpecker", bestseller in the 80's? This is where the quote comes from. But it's also a reminder to cherish our inner child. Not the whims, but the power to be still surprised by life; the ability to look for, and give, love.
Friday, 9 November 2012 @19:58
"You can’t start the next chapter of your life if you keep re-reading the last one".
There are sentences and words that belong to no one and to everybody, words that you find in the web as you find shiny pebbles or tiny shells on the shore, you pick them up and bring them home; words you find embroidered on cushions, written on walls or on Facebook walls, words that become immediately yours. As today's words for my Buongiorno.
Friday, 2 November 2012 @08:24
"My advice on how to make a home is not to have anything, just a few shelves for books, some pillows to sit on…"
What does it take to make a home? Not much. Gae Aulenti, one of the first and few Italian women architects, who just died in Milano, was right: we don’t need much. I only need my favourite cup and a soft warm blanket.
Thursday, 1 November 2012 @19:16
"I love waves, dusk, transparency and twilight, the soft mist of waiting, whatever invites me to be other than dust".
Roughly translating some verses by Roberto Lamantea, an italian poet; today, the day when we remember who is not with us any more, the day where we thread softly on the light and twilight line between death and life.
Yes, I write. Yes, I believe in the magic of words. That’s why you’ll find me here, every Friday: Lisa “globish”!
I believe in the magic of words, and I believe Piazza Unità in Trieste, where I was born, is the most romantic square in the world. (And yes, it’s in Italy, proudly facing the sea). I love roses in every form. And, of course, I do love my blog, expecially now that I can carry it around on my iPhone.