Take an Apple

The return from the paradise

The return from the Maldives has been very traumatic. I turned into a human-snapper!  Buahahabuahaha!!!!!!

Maldive

Aspettando airtaxi bianchi come i cadaveri dopo una nottata insonne, ma enormemente felici

There is no limit to your love

"...Oggi c'è la corsa sfrenata al godimento acchiappaticcio. Si cercano sempre nuovi stratagemmi, in verità, nessuno sa più come deliziarsi. I buongustai sono rimasti in pochi. Si va troppo in fretta, la fruizione dei piaceri è rapida, compulssiva, e in definitiva triste. Se il dolore neccessita di un suo tempo, il piacere ne richiede almeno il doppio..." da Manola di M. Mazzantini

Ode to Myself

"1 
I CELEBRATE myself, and sing myself, 
And what I assume you shall assume, 
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

I loafe and invite my soul, 
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.

My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air, 
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their 
parents the same, 
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin, 
Hoping to cease not till death.

Creeds and schools in abeyance, 
Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten, 
I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard, 
Nature without check with original energy.

2 
Houses and rooms are full of perfumes, the shelves are crowded with 
perfumes, 
I breathe the fragrance myself and know it and like it, 
The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.

The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the 
distillation, it is odorless, 
It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it, 
I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked, 
I am mad for it to be in contact with me.

The smoke of my own breath, 
Echoes, ripples, buzz'd whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch and 
vine, 
My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing 
of blood and air through my lungs, 
The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore and 
dark-color'd sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn,

The sound of the belch'd words of my voice loos'd to the eddies of 
the wind, 
A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms, 
The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs wag, 
The delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields 
and hill-sides, 
The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song of me rising 
from bed and meeting the sun.

Have you reckon'd a thousand acres much? have you reckon'd the 
earth much? 
Have you practis'd so long to learn to read? 
Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?

Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of 
all poems, 
You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are millions 
of suns left,) 
You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look 
through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in 
books, 
You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me, 
You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self..." Song of Myself by Walt Whitman

Angel DeVille: Life on Mars

Angel DeVille: Life on Mars: "Fine d'ottobre. Gli ultimi giorni di mare. Sembra incredibile, un altro pianeta. Siamo da soli... su Marte. Mi carico il cuore e la m..."

Life on Mars

Fine d'ottobre. Gli ultimi giorni di mare. Sembra incredibile, un altro pianeta. Siamo da soli... su Marte. Mi carico il cuore e la mente di ultimi raggi caldi del sole. Cercherò di farmeli bastare per tutto l'inverno.