a dream within a dream

Nikon D80 | 1/640 seconds | f 4.8 | ISO 125 | 38 mm
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 Take this kiss upon the brow!
 And, in parting from you now,
 Thus much let me avow
 You are not wrong, who deem
 That my days have been a dream:
 Yet if hope has flown away
 In a night, or in a day,
 In a vision or in none,
 Is it therefore the less gone
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
  I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep
While I weep while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is  all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

A Dream Within a Dream. 1849. Edgar Allan Poe

on the road

It was a lazy friday morning when I decided to bale out work and to go in an already to short weekend escapade. It was then when I took this shoot, after two hours of jolty railway road. I must confess that it wasn’t a matter of great precision, but rather a case of luck. Either way… looking at it, my mind flew away at Jack’s Kerouac novel – On the road – even if it has nothing to do with jazz or with the american culture in general. On the other hand, I share the same fascination with the idea of humanity and I wonder , just like him, what is the dynamics of my eclectic group of friends, so different characters, so turn apart by values, but still brought together by common passions.

Further more, even if my age has nothing to do with the so called “beat generation” I must admit that I find my self filled up with the same disillusion. Reading about Kerouac’s novel, some years ago, I stumbled upon an article of Clellon Holmes, a friend of the novelist, who said, among other things, one great truth “the absence of personal and social values is not a revelation shaking the ground beneath them (… or us), but a problem demanding a day-to-day solution. How to live seems to them (… us again) much more crucial than why”. Nevertheless, that’s why for me, as for Kerouac, “the only people are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles”.

.. after all this thoughts from just one simple shoot, I think I easily qualify for the category “mad ones”…

santa claus is coming... by train

… I close my eyes for just one moment and I imagine that Santa Claus exists and he’s scouring the world all year long in order to check on us… have you been good or have you been bad? Sometimes I almost can hear his mawkish voice asking me… And so, in order to give my mother satisfaction – for she always believed that I was a precocious child – I thought to give Santa a short insight view of my 2008 Christmas list… there it goes (in random order):
- in first place… some brief ones (and in the same time the ones that doesn’t stay in his power): faith, health, happiness, good friends, long life for the loved ones
- second… some of my whims :)
*a big raffia sack, filled with smaller sacks with all the tea assortments he can “borrow” from carturesti book(and more)shop
*an ice cream machine
*a daydreaming day every week
*good music in every teahouse or café in Bucharest
*all the books I want from amazon.com
… mmm, and the list remains open to tomorrow’s wishes
aaa… and Santa, if I don’t ask too much… it doesn’t hurt to have a free pas to neverland :)

p.s. is it so obvious that I crave for my childhood? Lately, it’s just like a leitmotif of my thoughts, of my acts, of my writings, of every breath I take and give away and… it drives me insane, it’s insane indeed to linger upon memories that doesn’t come around anymore… be careful at your inner, deep hidden, child… I should know best