June 2012
16 posts
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كل ما حلمتُ به خذلني، وكأن قدميّ الصغيرتين مخلوقتان للإنزلاق
ــــــــ شمس مؤقتة، سوزان عليوان
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Rachmaninov Vocalise - Luka Sulic
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I want to grab handfuls of music out of the air and stuff them into my mouth.
ــــــــ A Home at the End of the World, Michael Cunningham
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.هناكَ أغنيةٌ مختبئةٌ في كل شيء
There is hidden music in everything.
ــــــــ خاتم، رجاء عالم
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Perhaps death is not the hardest thing in a painter’s life… [L]ooking at the stars always makes me dream, as simply as I dream over the black dots representing towns and villages on a map.Why, I ask myself, shouldn’t the shining dots of the sky be as accessible as the black dots on the map of France? Just as we take the train to get to Tarascon or Rouen, we take death to reach a star.
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Those were the years, in the late 1950s, when serious literature was teaching the few serious readers that communication between any two individuals is impossible, that we are all isolated and that this isolation is no accident but due to the “human condition” itself.
ــــــــ The Beautiful Room Is Empty, Edmund White
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Hüzün — a Turkish word that expresses a communal sense of melancholy
“The hüzün of Istanbul is not just the mood evoked by its music and its poetry, it is a way of looking at life that implicates us all, not only a spiritual state but a state of mind that is ultimately as life-affirming as it is negating.”
found in Istanbul: Memories and the City by Orhan Pamuk
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