Thursday, 7 November 2013

my staircase

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  1. how strange. i dreamed of your house just last night. i told james of it this morning. it was such an experience. you weren't there. only your daughter was, turning happily in the light that fell in through the slatted wall and windows. but there was a presence that remained almost like a scent which was you.

    and today photos of your stairs...


    1. oh how can this be true???

      amazed, smiling at the wonder of all this, of all the infinite possibilities of this world :-)

  2. nu le-am recunoscut,desi simteam ceva familiar :)

    este intotdeauna un fel de magie,ma gandesc tot timpul la ea,cand urcam scarile spre ceea ce cunoastem deja si totusi ne asteapta in fiecare zi altfel,poate privirea se schimba,poate privitorul,poate universul in sine,cert este ca iubesc aceste ganduri pe care le am de cate ori trebuie sa ajung acasa. si iata ca am gasit intreaga lor poezie aici,acum...

    1. :-)

      cred ca aveam una si cu usa noastra intredeschisa, se vedea feriga de sub arcada, dar nu am mai gasit-o :-)

  3. another awesome masterpeice that leads me to consider passageways of life.
    I went back last summer to the italian neighborhood at our city center where I grew up until I was ten years old with my samsung in hand.I returned to our old wooden house which was then 100 years old and people in the neighborhood were signing a petitition not to have it torn down.It was ironic I signed this in the wine making store down the street.It didn't really matter to me in that time frame. I had entered this area from another world back to the beginning.I guess I still wanted to preserve the magic of the veranda in the summertime as a child when my wonder at my grandmother's flower garden was beginning to blossom into awareness.where the blue bells rang a tune in my heart and the lilac trees scented my pathways and we had magical tea parties on the veranda.
    and the occupant allowed me in.It was terribly neglected. it truly did look like a slum house.I looked in the doorway and saw the staircase with the banister very similar image to yours here but yours is beautiful and well kept and I snapped a few photos.
    but my life until then rushed by me and I sometimes feel this way-not very often and perhaps it is in those moments a sign of morbid alienation but I feel- does it really matter what occured along the pathway of my life.well life is good to me and there hasnt been a lot of suffering which I guess would matter. but I have this idea and feeling that it doesn't really matter what pathway my life took out of zillions of possibilities it is all the same and all that counts is the feeling of existence. perhaps this is a return to a primal state of being as in the animal kingdom where only existence matters. I don't feels too cold and alienating to be a zen state of existence because that state is ready to receive but this state simply strives for existence.

    thankyou my friend.
    have a beautiful day.

  4. anyway my friend, I became so lost in my own meanderings that I would like to say how beautiful and stately your house appears and thanks for sharing it with us.
    I too easily can image your little daughter dancing joyfully in your light and the light of the sunday.

    1. i love this, that you have become "lost" in your own meanderings, it is a truly touching story and i am grateful you shared it with us here. you know, Bachelard says we all carry the house of our childhood within us, all our life. maybe it is true, i don't know. my parents still live in that house, so for me nothing is lost (yet). this staircase is that of the block of flats where we have the appartment, i am glad that you find it beautiful as it isn't, i think, just an ordinary communist block staircase. but maybe the light reflections make every place beautiful!

      bises, chere amie, et un grand merci!

  5. thanks for your beautiful comment. I agree with all my heart and soul.

  6. The third picture is intriguing: there''s something going on in the bottom left, reflections of doors or some such trickery. The third one also has aompositional starkness, almost 'fascist' if that makes sense. The symmetries coagulate into sigils. The first one wisps light at the bottom right, as though flickeringly. The middle, the middle is embarkation and nostos. (-;