What I believe
Δημοσιεύθηκε: 9 Απριλίου, 2013 Filed under: choses vécues, ikaria, stories, Uncategorized | Tags: aegean, agrimi, death, for-ikaria, Greece, ikarian-enigma, island in the aegean sea, ικαρία, literature, my-beta-island, my-feet, my-idea, nature, no-inhibitions, photography, poetry, religion, rubble, thoughts, truths, wasteland, what-it-takes 8 Σχόλια
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Photo taken in Ikaria
featuring on Instagram.
Poetry by J.G. Ballard
What I believe
I believe in the power of the imagination to remake the world, to release the truth within us, to hold back the night, to transcend death, to charm motorways, to ingratiate ourselves with birds, to enlist the confidences of madmen.
I believe in my own obsessions, in the beauty of the car crash, in the peace of the submerged forest, in the excitements of the deserted holiday beach, in the elegance of automobile graveyards, in the mystery of multi-storey car parks, in the poetry of abandoned hotels.
. . .
I believe in the death of tomorrow, in the exhaustion of time, in our search for a new time within the smiles . . .
. . .
I believe in madness, in the truth of the inexplicable, in the common sense of stones, in the lunacy of flowers, in the disease stored up for the human race by the Apollo astronauts.
I believe in nothing.
I believe in Max Ernst, Delvaux, Dali, Titian, Goya, Leonardo, Vermeer, Chirico, Magritte, Redon, Duerer, Tanguy, the Facteur Cheval, the Watts Towers, Boecklin, Francis Bacon, and all the invisible artists within the psychiatric institutions of the planet.
I believe in the impossibility of existence, in the humour of mountains, in the absurdity of electromagnetism, in the farce of geometry, in the cruelty of arithmetic, in the murderous intent of logic.
I believe in adolescent women, in their corruption by their own leg stances, in the purity of their dishevelled bodies, in the traces of their pudenda left in the bathrooms of shabby motels.
I believe in flight, in the beauty of the wing, and in the beauty of everything that has ever flown, in the stone thrown by a small child that carries with it the wisdom of statesmen and midwives.
I believe in the gentleness of the surgeon’s knife, in the limitless geometry of the cinema screen, in the hidden universe within supermarkets, in the loneliness of the sun, in the garrulousness of planets, in the repetitiveness or ourselves, in the inexistence of the universe and the boredom of the atom.
. . .
I believe in the non-existence of the past, in the death of the future, and the infinite possibilities of the present.
I believe in the derangement of the senses: in Rimbaud, William Burroughs, Huysmans, Genet, Celine, Swift, Defoe, Carroll, Coleridge, Kafka.
. . .
I believe in the next five minutes.
I believe in the history of my feet.
I believe in migraines, the boredom of afternoons, the fear of calendars, the treachery of clocks.
I believe in anxiety, psychosis and despair.
I believe in the perversions, in the infatuations with trees, princesses, prime ministers, derelict filling stations (more beautiful than the Taj Mahal), clouds and birds.
I believe in the death of the emotions and the triumph of the imagination.
. . .
I believe in anxiety, psychosis and despair.
I believe in the perversions, in the infatuations with trees, princesses, prime ministers, derelict filling stations (more beautiful than the Taj Mahal), clouds and birds.
I believe in the death of the emotions and the triumph of the imagination.
I believe all reasons.
I believe all hallucinations.
I believe all anger.
I believe all mythologies, memories, lies, fantasies, evasions.
I believe in the mystery and melancholy of a hand, in the kindness of trees, in the wisdom of light.
J.G. B.
The full poem without my arbitrary omissions can be found at 
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Eleni's Blog in Ikaria 
Thank you, sister, thanks for the dedication
because it is not always like this.
To believe is what I needed. Life is sometimes too hard in the
monasteryisland and as the light gets stronger and stronger some things get harder and harder for a girl like me to take in.So I will try to believe. I will print the poem and pin it
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Πως κόλησε τώρα αυτό το έντεχνο trash, μόνο εσείς διαβόλισσες ξέρετε!
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[…] θες να το μάθεις, βρίσκεται στο “What I believe” της […]
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Ταιριαζουμε
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I believe in the images and writings of El and Nana.
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Thank you ❤
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Δεν έχω λόγια για το…
«Bare backs in Ikaria»
Θα μπορούσε να είνα έκθεση σε γκαλερί τέχνης!
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