the scream
at the end of the garden
'where art thou my brother!"
the dream i
in the middle of the garden
"where art thou my sister
we wrestle
with truth
on who we may be
yet the rattle
of our souls
and the memory
of the dream
in the middle of the garden
as we scream
at the end of the garden
"where art thou my brother"
"where art thou my sister"?????????????????????
Thokozani Mthiyane, fb
Monday, 25
Avendre Recycling - please check
Sunday, 24
During primary school stealing was a pastime. Willfully we were strolling direction to small groceries in our neighbourhood. Deceiving poor sales women we after compared our prey - who had stolen the biggest amount of lollipos. One day on my way home from school a saleswoman at Warning's caught me and announced she would give the word to my parents. The entire afternoon I was very afraid awaiting dinner to be scolded. Looking guilty I sat down at table, keeping silent. But nothing happened. My parents just looked at me, quizzically, because I acted oddly. To my surprise no questions, nothing - probably I owned up to my mother later in bed before sleeping.
Saturday, 23
There are people who live an expensive life style, but they always complain about economically difficult times, their problems to maintain and that I am supposed to help them - voluntary of course. They don't care about me and that my life isn't easy at all. They just expect me to follow them.
Friday, 22
Watched interesting movie La danza de la realidad in Stadtkino.
Her child an extension of herself. It's cry, it's baby laughter seems to belong to the mother like an invisible cord unifies them.
Wednesday, 20
R.I.P. - B.K.S. Iyengar 14. 12. 1918 - 20. 08. 2014
« Through his body, through his discipline, through his thoughts, through his art, through his purity, and in the best sense of the word through his simplicity, he has achieved a completeness of body and soul, a completeness of balance, completeness of relationship with his fellow men, which leaves nothing to be desired. »
Yehudi Menuhin
Monday, 18
Just the thought that losing my mind...
Global Footprint Network: August 19 is Earth Overshoot Day
Sunday, 17
State of matter
Boring, when there is no coherence, someone told me. To cut in pieces as in patchwork to me appears juicy - I love collages. The eyes and ears if it is music or words compose a whole on behalf of the mind. What appears to be incoherent aggregates to an understanding some may appreciate some not.
Thursday, 14
Sitting on my canapé I stare at the heater in front of me. Dull and sleepy. Nights are a waking up every two hours. First I've found it interesting enjoying a lot of dreams, action in the night, up and down. I even can provide my dreams consciously like navigating through a self determined dream world. Now I am tired of it. Addtionally weather is chilly, may that be the reason why I stare at the heater. Let me go for a hot coffee with milk to bring back the spirits.
Wednesday, 13
I talk. I like talking. Then it happens people tell me they are not intellectual - like me. But they actually want to stop my line. Okay, I listen. Because I know it is not about not being intellectual, but about their perspective which is different from mine and they are not able to frame it. What they want to say is: I know what I want, what I need and whatever you are talking about you will not convince me. It is me who is the master. The problem is then, mostly, the conversation comes to an end. Silence. A status quo and at that moment I feel my words fly around fading in nothingness.
Tuesday, 12
some call it butterflies -
i call it longing for love;
getting connected
to someone, feeling high
while the thought of
separation makes you lost
and lonely. only
in death
there will be endless
togetherness.
Monday, 11
when hope prevails life is bearable.
is despair a main state of mind
death is close.
Wednesday, 6
Traveling to Film Festival Locarno.
Today will watch the opening movie: Lucy
Notes I've found in my notebook:
fatal desire - obtrusive lyrics
self-fattening goals
tears are a symbol for some in pain
if only i had eyes to look without fear
I could hear his voice in the silence of my mind.
Our most vulnerable times are the immediate moments after victories or great successes.
Tuesday, 5
In the context of birthday congratulations somebody said something that is still running through my head. He said I should behave according to my age. He couldn't assume an expressive style that is distinctive of myself, but imposed a cold and calculating haughtiness in his oppinion appropriate to older people's mentality - no, I am not that lousy, sorry. Sensitivity I will never trash.
People who are bored of life are the most dangerous - I remember someone saying "hopefully there will be war soon, so something is going on". Those who are bored and think themselves safe they are terrible, they stop at nothing just to get an adrenalin rush. They dump everybody out of a lust for vaunt. And the problem is, when you address them their heart is jumping, because they feel they won. You support their self-perception by just talking to them. Dictators are kinda that. The only way to get rid of them is ignoring or planning a coup d'état.
Monday, 4
Sea of Love
Sunday, 3
To my relief I dreamed of you afterwards. And it wasn't a bad dream at all even you made me feel down and frustrated. That is how the mind goes, you never know what happens subconsciously.
The aperture controls the amount of light that comes through the lens, but it also determines what areas of the image will be in focus. This is referred to as depth of field and is an extremely valuable creative tool. The smaller the opening (the larger the number, such as f/16), the greater the sharpness of objects from near to far. Canon EOS 70 D, From Snapshots to Great Shots, Nicole S. Young, Peachpit Press, 2014
These, my words aren't notes
or posts on a wall that are easily
to delete or hide, just how
the mood goes, no, they are
like carved into a rock, sluggishly
waiting to be read. Then, again
they move further to pass out of
one's mind into the decomposition
of oblivion.
Saturday, 2
Even you are miles miles away -
ear to ear, voice to voice, our heads
next to each other like in a selfie.
That is a serious connection -
talking on the phone.
My voice in your head, your's in mine.
Friday, 1
Here some is fiction, some is real.
It's not always me, when it's called I.
My friends and family members
might found out it's not them
or contrary discover things
they haven't known before.
It is still a diary - with some fictional
ingredients. A diary must not necessarily
stick to a happened reality.
After ten years they have tiled the floor of
our shared laundry room in the basement.
What a nice surprise this morning.
