Quedan 3 días.
uno de los paisajes que se pueden ver en la pel·lícula "The Road"
«He lay listening to the water drip in the woods. Bedrock, this. The cold and the silence. The ashes of the late world carried on the bleak and temporal winds to and fro in the void. Carried forth and scattered and carried forth again. Everything uncoupled from its shoring. Unsupported in the ashen air. Sustained by a breath, trembling and brief. If only my heart were stone.»
The Road- Cormac McCarthy
Este es el Super Kamiokande. Un observatorio de neutrinos en Japón.
Texto en la entrada del SMK, Museu de arte moderno de Copenhagen, sobre la exhibición del pintor Vilhelm Hammershøi
first the all but empty space / first only closed doors and averted figures / deserted streets, abandoned buildings / winter forest, white and silent; a naked woman, faceless / a young girl sweeps a floor, a man is reading / the light is alive / it shimmers in the gray regions / a lot of fuzzy murk, a radiant white hand / the light central / the light / the light // this space is a sphere of tension; it’s electric; it’s mathematics / and more than that, but what? / the woman bows her head – ashamed of her naked body? / or delighting in her beauty? / does the girl sweep the floor with sorrow written on her back / or is she resting / slumped inside herself? / and her neck, exposed – does it signal a devotion / her face cannot harbor? / closed doors, but they’re open a crack: the space has possibilities: open a door! / we are in a chinese box! / and on a february day you may meet a man / he is walking down strandgade / he observes you closely / the shadows in the wrinkles of your coat / your sharply-illumined cheekbone / a special presence you yourself cannot see / this space is the poetic space / this man is the poet / and you meet him in london, paris / in bruges and rome / shifting light / new scenes / and suddenly you are flung into a forest practically on fire / the fire is the sunset behind the trees / the blurry contours are a softness not even the poem itself can contain / it spills over / the poetic space is a sphere of tension // the poet turns his back to you / or: he scrutinizes you / he steps back / he places you askew in the image / the space expands / the space is trimmed / now it resembles a photograph / now it doesn’t / the poet is discrete / the poet is insistent / he offers you a shiver down your spine / or: a longing, to see your loneliness / he offers you recognition of something / calm, silence, something very subdued / cool that isn’t cold: / here five persons placed close to each other / their eyes seeking elsewhere / no contact / but also: companionship / and here a couple at a table/ one of them is the poet himself / he has entered the poem / but in here too he turns and faces his subject / he turns his back to you // and meanwhile the poet stands beside you, observing himself / a neck, exposed // and always the gray tones, the intense darkness / always: the light // the light // smoldering, glowing / stark and bright /dense and fuzzy / it’s alive // it spills over // it’s the poetic space // a sphere of tension // and you stand, gazing at it /gazing at it // and then you step inside / you step inside the poem now / into the painting
Y, así, para acabar unos videos de Youtube:
Para acabar, lluvia.
Antes de la tormenta, la tormenta y después de la tormenta.