No pictures, just music.
---
snow falling at night
warm breath and a close embrace
i just want to live
---
gentle rain falling
a million things reflected
by the caress of the notes
---
Dark clouds, breeze gently
Blowing cliff top grass - now chill
Oh, where is my love?
---
another day done
walking home from the station
a sunset lit world
memories replay
words, laughter, smiling faces
small consolations
at last the sun dips
past the temple to home
a light at the door
13 comments:
snow falling at night
warm breath and a close embrace
i just want to live
iy, the piece reminded me of the closing shot of In Bruges ...
Charlie Chaplan would
put this to visual use
magnificently
gentle rain falling
a million things reflected
by the caress of the notes
on the 6th day , 6th month
this musical piece is played
yes, you guessed - 6 times.
hey nobody,
good to see you around.
wondering how it feels to be free of all those daily stories that led to contraction.
do you feel expanded?
do you feel grateful?
do you feel alive?
just wondering?
another day done
walking home from the station
a sunset lit world
memories replay
words, laughter, smiling faces
small consolations
at last the sun dips
past the temple to home
a light at the door
Hey folks, just quickly since I have to catch a train to Sydney (to try and wiggle out of probate - it's own variety of bureaucratic hell).
Hey John, I won't tell what this piece is yet but it's from a movie I've never seen. I've been trying to download it for a month with no success. I'll name it later.
But even before I knew it was from a movie, every time I heard it I had a clip play in my head that I'd love to direct. I'll be interested to see if the movie is anything like the one that I imagined.
And attention the Schutte! Believe it or not, the ideal person I'd cast as the man walking home would be Na's dad, ha ha. The walk home would be from Kichijoji station, through the main street there, and up to the house. And sure enough this means that Na is now duty bound to write us a haiku. It doesn't have to be about her dad of course...
Hey Su, weirdly enough it almost feels as if none of it ever happened. It's a curious feeling. And in some ways I feel guilty that I didn't do more to make him happy. But then again it was all so hateful, and then there's everything I wrote which I go back and read and none of that was incorrect, so, you know, whatever. Otherwise, in the major respects nothing has changed. I'm not free. I am dependent on others (certainly their hospitality) which, I don't know about others, but I find to be very restricting.
And I've still a way to go. Believe it or not I don't have a licence yet. I figure I'm being taught the lesson of what happens to those who choose to withdraw from being registered with the government. And then there's probate. Groan. Hopefully I should be able to avoid it. Licence, probate, sell the car, buy a van, and then I'm free. Hooray.
FB
Dark clouds, breeze gently
Blowing cliff top grass - now chill
Oh, where is my love?
At first I was trying to work the name Catherine Cookson into it because it had that olden feeling about it but then I realised I had never read any Catherine Cookson. I was trying to work out what it was that provoked those feelings and then it reminded me loosely of the end bit of the French Lieutenant's Woman.
Walking home – dark streets
3am, a reverie
A moment; a hope?
Nobs, you mentioned you had a fast internet connection so I thought maybe there had been some luck with the job?
good luck with the probate thing. don't know what it is but is sounds like the kind of thing that one calls on other forces for a bit of help. like lighting a candle. i swear the inner catholic in me is having a field day with all the candle lighting.
you say you regret that you were not 'nicer' but you look back and it is what it is. one acts as one acts and that is it in a nutshell.
went to aang saw a link to some physicist and then linked to his site and the page flooded with words.
more and more words. probably brilliant but i remembered this beautiful piece you shared and guess what - i left the page of words - listening, and looking out onto an orange honeysuckle bush with a male weaver hanging off low from a branch.
he is building it high up. much higher than usual.
i see you in a blue van as you head to freedom : ) in these most astonishing times.
quiet contemplation
awake but still quite confused
rejoiced, one more beat
Hey FB, and no, that gig went by the wayside. It'll just be me wandering about now.
And Su, a weaver bird! Fantastic. That would really be something - to watch a weaverbird build his nest. We have nothing like that in Oz.
just chkn in :)
hugz noby!
*
Kikz! I was just thinking about you. Still about I see. I was just thinking I should drop you a line and see how you all are. Um, it might take a little while since I've been writing a piece for the church blog and it has me distracted.
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