Cities & Signs II.

Travelers return form the city of Zirma with distinct memories, a blind black man shouting in the crowd, a lunatic teetering on a skyscraper's cornice, a girl walking with a puma on a leash. Actually many of the blind men who tap their canes on Zirma's cobblestones are black; in every skyscraper there is someone going mad; all lunatics spend hours on cornices; there is no puma that some girl does not raise, as a whim. The city is redundant: it repeats itself so that something will stick in the mind.
I too am returning from Zirma: my memory includes dirigibles flying in all directions, at window level; streets of shopswhere tattoos are drawn on sailors' skin; underground trains crammed with obese women suffering from the humidity. My traveling companions, on the other hand, swear they saw only one dirigible hovering among the city's spires, only one tattoo artist arranging needles and inks and pierced patterns on his bench, only one fat woman herself on a train's platform. Memory is redundant: it repeats signs so that the city can begin to exist.

-Italo Calvino, Invisible Cities.

Blue.

It had been a long time since I'd seen the dawn. At one end of the skya line of blue appeared, and like blue ink on a piece of paper it spread slowly across the horizon. If you gathered together all of the shades of blue in the world and picked the bluest, the epitome of blue, this was the colour you would choose. I rested my elbows on the table and looked at that scene, my mind blank. When the sun showed itself over the horizon, that blue was swallowed up by ordinary sunlight. A single cloud floated above the cemetery, a pure white cloud, its edges distinct. A cloud so sharply edged you could write on it. A new day had begun. But what this day would bring, I had no idea.

-Haruki Murakami, South of the Border, West of the Sun.

White.

Some days are there to admit you're lost. You've lost something. It's not where you used to keep it.

Somethings you just have to leave behind, you might not know it, but you're making room for something else. Maybe bigger but maybe it will just be different.

I recall my past with a smile, I've got the gift of storing the good and smoothing down the bad. Like tea and its hint of bitterness.

I like to listen and I like to giggle.

C'est tout, I.

A Quote from the (beautiful) Suburbs.

I used to think I was not like them but I'm beginning to have my doubts.
-AF.

Quote #9-

"I have woven a parachute out of everything broken."

-William Stafford.

That One Poem.

Daydream delusion, limousine eyelash / Oh baby with your pretty face / Drop a tear in my wineglass / Look at those big eyes / See what you mean to me / Sweet-cakes and milkshakes / I'm a delusion angel / I'm a fantasy parade / I want you to know what I think / Don't want you to guess anymore / You have no idea where I came from / We have no idea where we're going / Lodged in life / Like branches in a river/ Flowing downstream / Caught in the current / I carry you / You'll carry me / That's how it could be / Don't you know me? / Don't you know me by now? -Street Poet from Before Sunrise.

Imaginary Plans.