Marinkel *'s blog/

made this for me... merci ! :)

wouldn't this be great lettering for my very own icecream parlor? or an aquarium. which reminds me, i wanna take some pictures of squid... ahah, the mind of a woman is so random !

tgif !

xoxo

i am dreaming of my perfect love
he sits across from me
stirring his teacup
i hear the storm raging
and i get up
tulips in a porcelain vase
the red canape
there are puppet strings dangling from the rafters
my eye speaks knowingly
you look up from your paper
and green envelopes the nights

thanks to friend iain i discovered antony & the johnsons today. i recognized his voice instantly from a song by cocorosie called "all the beautiful boys". he will surely make you cry. if you are in that kind of mood like me today...

found this video in my mailbox this morning. someone had sent it to me on facebook. and since it is so befitting of my oceanic theme lately i want to share it here. also am still working on loving and letting go...

i've been talking too much.
while i only wanted to talk to you.
so i do.
i hear you.
then i realize it is you in me.
it is me.
and the voice of god.
coming through.

a stranger said,
i don't talk about it
but keep it in my heart.
i will rejoice or shed tears.
but it will be mine.

i have a daughter
her name is aurora
she lives behind mine eye
sometimes she whispers
sweet sorrows
she is made of the blue
no one ever sees

she speaks to the king thus

be still
go within
listen
as the rose's thorn enters your flesh
listen to the raindrops
as your heart blossoms withers and dies
offering the sweetest of perfumes
a cloud in your head
go into the garden grove
lie on your grave
listen
be still

i have a daughter
her name is aurora
made of the green sparkling laughter
shaping your heart
anew

i want to reach the desert before you do
arabian horseplay on barebacks
find myself
marbles rolling in the sand
sounding the clockwerk of another life
winding
bullets entering my body
when i take the wrong corner
i will survive this too
your head so resembles another
speaks so desperately
come with me, you whisper
this world spins me dizzy
in childplay marble seconds
i run ahead of you
every day you must laugh laugh laugh

what i want is

i love the wisdom of iris
she trusts
she dances
she lives
she gives freedom
you may enter
you may leave
she gives love
where ever you are
on your journey

i am not yet perfect, iris
but i am learning

kerstin's shell

my cousin kerstin painted this shell just recently, independent of me creating my pictures with shells, finding shells on the shores of sicily. i first thought it to be a wing maybe because we had often discussed angels. and because i believe her to be one. she has been there for me this last year, taking me in when i needed a place to rest, and giving me strength when the world seemed just too much.

i was happy to see her finally using a great big canvas, something she had been wanting to do for so long. and the colors reveal such warmth and passion. a shell filled with fire and the secrets of life. familiar synchronicities...

here she is a year ago...

my love he went down to the watershed. he has gone there to let the boats float across the glittering surface in the evening sun. his eyes burn with tears of what has passed and of what they will miss as life flows by. spirits appear from among the waves and they take his hand. he resists not but goes willingly.

malicious spirits these who turn him to stone. breathe a different kind of life into him.

they lie him down on a bed of roses. skin falls off him, slips down in sheets of yellowish grey. still i see the shapes of a life we once dreamed. they fall to the floor. all there is left is the bed, billowing cushions so inviting. for one fine sunday morning with the sun that is returning for the ones who see things fall. who wait until they rise again.

how could i ever regret anything? seeing the sun go down in your eyes. let the night envelope us. embrasse us. fall to our knees and land softly. no greater thing to achieve from here.

Bertolt Brecht

Die Liebenden   Sieh jene Kraniche in großem Bogen! Die Wolken, welche ihnen beigegeben Zogen mit ihnen schon, als sie entflogen Aus einem Leben in ein andres Leben In gleicher Höhe und mit gleicher Eile Scheinen sie alle beide nur daneben. Daß so der Kranich mit der Wolke teile Den schönen Himmel, den sie kurz befliegen Daß also keines länger hier verweile Und keines andres sehe als das Wiegen Des andern in dem Wind, den beide spüren Die jetzt im Fluge beieinander liegen So mag der Wind sie in das Nichts entführen Wenn sie nur nicht vergehen und sich bleiben Solange kann sie beide nichts berühren Solange kann man sie von jedem Ort vertreiben Wo Regen drohen oder Schüsse schallen. So unter Sonn und Monds wenig verschiedenen Scheiben Fliegen sie hin, einander ganz verfallen. Wohin ihr? Nirgendhin. Von wem davon? Von allen. Ihr fragt, wie lange sind sie schon beisammen? Seit kurzem. Und wann werden sie sich trennen? Bald. So scheint die Liebe Liebenden ein Halt.

Bertolt Brecht (1898-1956)

the lovers

see the cranes in a great bow
the clouds which part for them
traveled with them already, when they escaped
from one life to the next
at the same height and with the same haste
they seem both of them only next to
so that the crane may share with the cloud
the beautiful sky which they both fly in
so that neither stay longer
and neither may see something other than the swaying
of the other in the wind which they both feel
who now lie near one another in flight
thus the wind may carry them away to nothingness
only if they do not pass away and stay for one another
thus long nothing may touch them
thus long one may chase them away from any place
where rains threaten or shots resound
thus under sun and moon's few various panes
they flie on, altogether smitten
where to, you? nowhere. from whom away? from all.
you ask, how long have they been together? shortly.
and when will they part? soon.
thus seems love a hold for lovers.

i create
to piece back together
all of our losses
it is a remembrance
of how things were
slightly altered
a fallen apple
in the grass
turning into blossoms
growing wings

all things new are but a memory
chiming returns

my favorite song at the moment...

when in paris you can travel the planet in a night. we started in the red light district (it's where most stories begin ... ) and decided to walk in the middle of the avenue on this first spring feverish evening. the sycamores are beginning to turn green making it my favorite color. then we entered the lands of india and all of its strangely shaped fruits. i found my favorite kind of incense called sandalwood, making the sweetest smell on earth float out of my window at this moment. we trotted on meeting smiling people from all parts of the world on the way. next stop was vietnam where we received all the wrong things and then all the right things to eat along with a can of kronenbourg. lovingly slammed on the table with neither glass nor smile, making us laugh in turn.

we felt sleepy then and thankfully paris was just outside the door so we returned to the pavement in search of the perfect cup of coffee and to satisfy a nagging sweettooth. walking down the wrong street in a district littered with old artisan workshops and iron-roofed wherehouses, we stepped into the underwood café, a former typewriter shop with books pasted onto the ceiling and a naked woman riding the moon called selen. had we completely left the planet now? it appeared so after i made a deal with the barman to have a picture show, we were served the most heavenly dessert my tongue had ever had the pleasure to melt. my show thus shall be called "art and dessert" or something to that effect.

returning to the night outside, she revealed the oracle. i see you living in .... or ..., she said, i don't know why, your face has this look for that. i smiled knowingly. my face can never hide anything to those who pay attention. words are not necessary, but i yell them into the night anyway.

next to last stop was the dance hall from argentinia, playing salsa and english pop. we spoke about the languages we speak, we learn in an instant because we are so desperate to talk. i tell her, i am more desperate to listen and what i learn is to ask the questions. so let me hear your story. the one most important meeting i have had in my life was gulliver skiing down the sanddunes of eureka. i love you all, you traveling fools.

our story ends on the saddles of bicycles, riding through the mild night with no stars nor moons but dark faces and light eyes. as we say goodnight an ugly whore starts talking to us. we have come full circle and we now know it is time to go home, slip under the covers and leap into the land of dreams.