Friday, 5 October 2012 @09:11
"Each tree, each part of a tree, has its own particular destiny, its own special yearning to be fulfilled."
Listen to your dreams. Follow their shimmering track. It’s the only way to become something else.
George Nakashima was not a poet: or, better, a poet of wood and furniture, a woodworker. Japanese, but born in America, after a brief stint in India, where he built a perfect ashram in the 30's, he came back to the States and built his own house and workshop in the woods of Pennsylvania. If you touch his tables, chairs and beds you can still feell knots and burls, mirroring and reflecting the forest outside. A lesson, a reminder to listen to our inner voice.
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.