31 Jan 2008


Virginia Wolf hours. Writing with wooden stello. Dripped ink. Stained index. Rough paper scratching her pinky. Intimate sound and connection established. Between paper, thoughts, ink, and self. Finger, stylo and soul. Intense feelings. Vivid emotions. Deep connection. Never attained before except through this fatal combination. Resembling the death moments when sight is iron. Words and expression as vast and dense as a sea of black and blue ink. Mingled together. Evenly that you can trace neither the black nor the blue. Never stopped long enough to wonder about these trivials. Yet, indulged in the ink. Allowing yourself to be stained with the colour that you no more see but just taste its unique pigment fine mingling. The colour of your own reality. Blue. Black. Who cares. Red if I may say, like Pamuk's. But when in the making, it retrograde like Mars. Giving space to the new arrivals. Mercury and Saturn. Intermingling. Thoughts and ideas. With hard work and solid, untwisted intention. When these combinations are consumated, we will invite you Mr.Mars. Not too late. Not too early. Just in time for the right mix to cook well.


Blogger Christian said...

To much introvention leads to disection leaving pieces that are less than the whole.

When are you coming?

2/01/2008 04:42:00 am  
Anonymous Alina said...

I always felt Pamuk's tend to get closer to black while red, white and other colors are just an excuse to make the road to black interesting and extremely sad.

2/02/2008 07:07:00 pm  
Blogger haal said...

Chris, Are you married yet? Long time! I was thinking about you lately. How are you? Well, I will come in the summer.

This is interesting. Can you please elaborate a bit. I read the book but had a strange feeling..maybe because I was RED during that time. read it during the most turblant time of my life...WEll, one of the.. I may say

2/02/2008 09:14:00 pm  
Anonymous Alina said...

I feel all the books I've read end with this bleak loneliness feeling. Living, but not enjoying, deciding to enjoy when it's too late, surviving, but incomplete, as if all the things happening in a character's life end up by crippling him/her. So I perceive his view on these characters life as a pretty dark one. BTW, I've read the New Life, My Name is Red and The White Castle.

2/06/2008 03:39:00 pm  

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