Tuesday, 19 September 2017

Život mi je kao Malerova simfonija, nikada se ne vraća nazad. U ovom osećanju vremena, koje je definicija melanholije, svest o konačnosti, nema utočišta, osim zaborava...


Ja sam umiruće lice u ogledalu, zaleđena slika jednog vremena koje daje iluziju pokreta, kristal snega što klizi po klupku inja, a niko ne uviđa složenost njegovih prepletanja. Ja sam ta zgusnuta kap vode na prozorskom staklu moje sobe, tečni biser koji se kotrlja i ne zna ništa o pari što ga je iznedrila, ni o atomima iz kojih je još sačinjena, ali koji će uskoro služiti drugim molekulima, drugim telima, oblacima koji pritiskaju ovaj grad.
U životu ima ozleda koje, kao lepra, razjedaju dušu u samoći. Ne postoje slučajnosti u životu, sve je povezano i ima svoj sled događaja. Kao da se vreme zatvorilo sa sećanjem na minule dane. Sva je večnost popijena iz tužnog pehara....

1 comment:

Giga said...

Life never comes back, so it's always best to survive. Regards.

You are the pattern in the weaving of my existence. You are the secret code that unlocks all that is mine. You are the manner in which I dance, flying from cloud to cloud…You are the answer to all my questions, always unexpected, which raises me from one world to another.You are my sailing boat on the ocean of infinite tranquility and bliss. My most beautiful ark. Your soul has no limits, and it is in my eyes that You are endless…
And thus when I am not asking You anything then, in fact, I am asking You; And when I do not see You – I do indeed see you. And when You are silent You are speaking inside of me; and when you are asleep you are awake inside of me.....
You'll never be able to escape from your heart. So, it's better to listen to what it has to say. That way you'll never have to fear an unanticipated blow...

Anton Chekhov, Ivanov

Once I worked hard and thought a lot but I never got tired; now I do nothing and think of nothing, but I'm tired in body and spirit.With a heavy head, with a slothful spirit, exhausted, overstretched, broken, without faith, without love, without a goal, I roam like a shadow among men and I don't know who I am, why I'm alive, what I want. And I now think that love is nonsense, that embraces are cloying, that there's no sense in work, that song and passionate speeches are vulgar and outmoded. And everywhere I take with me depression, chill boredom, dissatisfaction, revulsion from life... I am destroyed, irretrievably!

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