non saprei tracciare la rotta sulla carta

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Chiese a Marco Kublai: “Tu che esplori intorno e vedi i segni, saprai dirmi verso quale futuro ci spingono i venti propizi”.
Per questi porti non saprei tracciare la rotta sulla carta né fissare la data dell’approdo. Alle volte mi basta uno scorcio che s’apre nel bel mezzo d’un paesaggio incongruo un affiorare di luci nella nebbia, il dialogo di due passanti che s’incontrano nel viavai, per pensare che da lì metterò assieme pezzo a pezzo la città perfetta, fatta di frammenti mescolati col resto, d’istanti separati da intervalli, di segnali che uno manda e non sa chi li raccoglie. Se ti dico che la città cui tende il mio viaggio è discontinua nello spazio e nel tempo, ora più rada ora più densa, tu non devi credere che si possa smettere di cercarla. Forse mentre noi parliamo sta affiorando sparsa entro i confini del tuo impero; puoi rintracciarla, ma a quel modo che t’ho detto”.

Italo Calvino, Le città invisibili
© CC BY-NC-SA

j’espère que pour l’amour dynamique

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J’ai eu un point de référence qui me tenait ailleurs, à savoir que la magie à l’intérieur de l’art que j’avais rencontré comme un enfant. Je méprise mon propre passé et celle des autres. Je méprise la résignation, la patience, l’héroïsme professionnel et tous les sentiments obligatoires. Je déteste aussi les arts décoratifs, le folklore, la publicité, la voix des speakers de la radio, l’aérodynamique, les Boy Scouts, l’odeur de naphta, les nouvelles et ivrognes. J’aime l’humour subversif, des taches de rousseur, les genoux des femmes et des cheveux longs, les rires des enfants qui jouent, et une fille courir dans la rue. J’espère que pour l’amour dynamique, l’impossible, la chimère. Je crains savoir précisément mes propres limites.

René Magritte
© CC BY-NC-SA

and it’s only the beginning

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I’m all these words, all these strangers, this dust of words, with no ground for their settling, no sky for their dispersing, coming together to say, fleeing one another to say, that I am they, all of them, those that merge, those that part, those that never meet, and nothing else, yes, something else, that I’m something quite different, a quite different thing, a wordless thing in an empty place, a hard shut dry cold black place, where nothing stirs, nothing speaks, and that I listen, and that I seek, like a caged beast born of caged beasts born of caged beasts born of caged beasts born in a cage and dead in a cage, born and then dead, born in a cage and then dead in a cage, in a word like a beast, in one of their words, like such a beast, and that I seek, like such a beast, with my little strength, such a beast, with nothing of its species left but fear and fury, no, the fury is past, nothing but fear, nothing of all its due but fear centupled, fear of its shadow, no, blind from birth, of sound then, if you like, we’ll have that, one must have something, it’s a pity, but there it is, fear of sound, fear of sounds, the sounds of beasts, the sounds of men, sounds in the daytime and sounds at night, that’s enough, fear of sounds all sounds, more or less, more or less fear, all sounds, there’s only one, continuous, day and night, what is it, it’s steps coming and going, it’s voices speaking for a moment, it’s bodies groping their way, it’s the air, it’s things, it’s the air among the things, that’s enough, that I seek, like it, no, not like it, like me, in my own way, what am I saying, after my fashion, that I seek, what do I seek now, what it is, it must be that, it can only be that, what it is, what it can be, what what can be, what I seek, no, what I hear, I hear them, now it comes back to me, they say I seek what it is I hear, I hear them, now it comes back to me, what it can possibly be, and where it can possibly come from, since all is silent here, and the walls thick, and how I manage, without feeling an ear on me, or a head, or a body, or a soul, how I manage, to do what, how I manage, it’s not clear, dear dear, you say it’s not clear, something is wanting to make it clear, I’ll seek, what is wanting, to make everything clear, I’m always seeking something, it’s tiring in the end, and it’s only the beginning.

Samuel Beckett, The Unnamable
© CC BY-NC-SA

as if were in Heaven

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Higgins: The great secret, Eliza, is not having bad manners or good manners or any other particular sort of manners, but having the same manner for all human souls: in short, behaving as if were in Heaven, where there are no third-class carriages, and one soul is as good as another.

George Bernard Shaw, Pygmalion
© CC BY-NC-SA