Postări
But, when nothing subsists of an old past, after the death of people, after the destruction of things, alone, frailer but more enduring, more immaterial, more persistent, more faithful, smell and taste still remain for a long time, like souls, remembering, waiting, hoping, on the ruin of all the rest, bearing without giving way, on their almost impalpable droplet, the immense edifice of memory. / Proust
At no other time does the earth let itself be inhaled in one smell, the ripe earth; in a smell that is in no way inferior to the smell of the sea, bitter where it borders on taste, and more honeysweet where you feel it touching the first sounds. Containing depth within itself, darkness, something of the grave almost. / Rainer Maria Rilke, 'Letters on Cézanne'
O veste care a venit ca un trăznet peste noi toți: Adi nu mai este. După ce șocul și durerea vor trece, va rămâne poezia; poeziile de dragoste atât de frumoase. Vor rămâne amintirile și frumusețea. Adi recitând - și o melodie care, deși nu era în playlistul lui, e posibil să descrie raiul, așa cum îl vedeasimțea el. Rămâi cu bine Adi, ne vom întâlni cu toții în acel loc. Înmormântarea va avea loc azi, cimitirul Bellu, aleea Artiștilor.
'It’s said that when you deeply wound an INFJ, they don’t "hate" you, they "nothing" you. If the door has been slammed on you, it’s because the INFJ saw no other way of stopping the emotional pain you were causing them. They tend to be patient and forgiving of others’ shortcomings, but even INFJs have their breaking point. When an unhealthy relationship becomes draining and damaging, the INFJ must remove it to save their sanity. Usually the door is slammed only as a last resort.'
Life, now, was unfolding before me, constantly and visibly, like the flowers of summer that drop fanlike petals on eternal soil. Overall, I was happiest to be alone; for it was then I was most aware of what I possessed. Free to look out over the rooftops of the city. Happy to be alone in the company of friends, the company of lovers and strangers. Everything, I decided, in this life, was pure pleasure. / Roman Payne, 'Rooftop Soliloquy'
'They say a good love is one that sits you down, gives you a drink of water, and pats you on top of the head. But I say a good love is one that casts you into the wind, sets you ablaze, makes you burn through the skies and ignite the night like a phoenix; the kind that cuts you loose like a wildfire and you can't stop running simply because you keep on burning everything that you touch! I say that's a good love; one that burns and flies, and you run with it!'
