http://synesthesialitjournal.wordpress.com/2014/05/27/volume-21/ Synesthesia Literary Journal. The editors are dedicated to presenting extraordinary literature — haiku to novels — spotlighting new and established writers and artists. Transcending trends, we offer … Sigue leyendo
i am nothing more than pieces of inside, there is no outside, no more outside, neither a margin nor an awaken vertex, there is no silhouette, not even a sleepy … Sigue leyendo
Now, Katherine, what do you mean by health? And what do you want it for? Answer: By health I mean the power to live a full, adult, living, breathing life … Sigue leyendo
When I was listening to professor M this afternoon, I clearly understood all the different perspectives he was talking about. On the one hand, comparative literature in a restrictive and … Sigue leyendo
Such a cultivated mind doesn’t really attract me. I admire it, I appreciate all “less soins et les peines” that have gone to produce it -but I leaves me cold. … Sigue leyendo
This idea struck me: the army is the body: I am the brain. Thinking is my fighting. __ This idea was meant to be more impressive. It bobbed up … Sigue leyendo
Roger died on Sunday. […] I was glad we went to the service on Thursday. It was a very hot summers day. And all very simple & dignified. Music. Not … Sigue leyendo
For many years she walks the downs knowing something- it , she says – is there and is always going to be there. Beauty, peace, wordlessness. She might be afraid, exhausted, deceived or … Sigue leyendo
To begin with another question (just read the last pages) why am I sitting here at 10.30 on a Sunday morning, rather stiff in the back, rather sore of the … Sigue leyendo
Here I will give myself the pleasure -shall I?- of copying a sentence or two from Morgan’s unsolicited letter on The Waves: “I expect I shall write to you again … Sigue leyendo
The other/private life Poor Tom- a true poet, I think; what they will call in a hundred years a man of genius: & this is his life. I stand for … Sigue leyendo
For those who are obsessed with Reality here is an excellent thought/spontaneous aphorism by Virginia Woolf Excitements about what are called real things are always unutterably transitory. The Diary of … Sigue leyendo
Under this intrusive sun dewy adjectives seek to grow into solid nouns.
Afraid of November: death and roasted chestnuts knives, cuts and embers.
I hear with perspicuity your whispery voice stand out in the mist.
You naughty sea come here, massage my feet, have a cup of love with me.
Green autumn leave you’re stronger than the wind hold on to the tree.
I prefer sleepless nights Rather than last night. Why was I dreaming that? The fears were all Under my hat And they woke up and danced In front of my … Sigue leyendo
Read, re-read, re-re-read and do not listen to it. Re-re-re-read it until you can’t read it anymore, but you can, it’s a miracle! And it makes you sick you can … Sigue leyendo
In Blogging Woolf Among all the entries of the second volume of Virginia Woolf’s Diary I would like to comment briefly on the 16 January 1923 record, as I consider it to be quite … Sigue leyendo
– I am the one that goes to work every morning and takes the bus or the subway, or perhaps simply walks on high heels, in a narrow skirt. I … Sigue leyendo
I recognize it again, there it is the feeling of emptiness. I can not find Life I can not grasp it, I can not see it; it is neither hidden … Sigue leyendo
One more night, once again Antony & The Johnsons have conquered our souls and something else that we weren’t aware of its existence. Lou Reed once said “When I first … Sigue leyendo
From this half moon of glass I thought I was observing the world from up above but there’s another world, that world, which observes me up there, beyond the other … Sigue leyendo
You were sleeping but I kissed you. I could not just watch you. You were sleeping and you kissed me You could not be dead if I was alive. We … Sigue leyendo