Reblog : Περίπου το 30 π.Χ.



  Δόξα! Δόξα!
Σήμερα Πρωτη του Καλοκαιριου και ενω οι λέξεις-κλειδια που οδηγουν στα μπλογκ μας μαρτυρουν ότι παρα πολλοί ανθρωποι ψαχνουν πληροφοριες για καμπινγκ στην Ικαρία, εφετος η αγαπημενη μου Νανα δεν νοιαζεται για «τις αναγκες του κοινου ενοψη του Αυγουστου» (♦). Φευγει πιο περα, μακρια. Δινει το στιγμα της, δημοσιευοντας το…  


Περίπου το 30 π.Χ.

. «Εδώ λοιπόν που λέτε είχαμε εκλογές και κυκλοφόρησε κόσμος και αν και δεν δυσαρεστήθηκα με τα αποτελέσματα, δεν την γλύτωσα και μελαγχόλησα όπως πάντα το παθαίνω με την πολλή πολιτικούρα. Ευτυχώς όμως γελάσαμε με το … (διαβαστε περισσοτερα)

Με τετοιο πνευμα, τρελη διαθεση και πολλη δουλεια…

ΚΑΛΟ ΚΑΛΟΚΑΙΡΙ!!!


(♦)Παρολα αυτα, αγαπημενοι αναγνωστες, επειδη δεν θελουμε να γινουν ποτε ξανα

http://worldwideeyes.files.wordpress.com/2010/07/freecamping_stiker.gif?w=315&h=221 αυτα τα πραγματα
η προταση μας για να κανετε καμπινγκ στην Ικαρια βρισκεται στο

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Paper Island


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Why some islands are not just islands?

Why can some islands be both real and fictional?

Why do some islands attain a second life in literature?

What do some islands seem to attract big ideas, illusions and dreams?

Why are some islands, more often than others, chosen as sceneries of tales of escape?

Why do some islands appear in novels, satires, utopias and moral tales, more than other islands?

Why some islands, besides being made of rocks and soil like all islands, can also be, as I am calling them, paper islands?

First pages of Jesuit Johann Bissel's satirical novel of 1637 with engraved allegoric title and engraved utopian map of Icaria with imaginary names of cities, rivers, etc.

I say, the more an island is an island, the more it makes you dream

Because democracy is no good in dreaming, we can say it loudly :

  Some islands are more islands than other islands

«The élan that draws humans toward islands extends the double movement that produces islands in themselves. Dreaming of islands – whether with joy or in fear, it doesn’t matter – is dreaming of pulling away, of being already seperate, far from any continent, of being lost and alone – or it is dreaming of starting from scratch, recreating, beginning anew. Some islands drifted away from the continent, but the island is also that toward which one drifts; other islands originated in the ocean, but the island is also the origin, radical and absolute.»

Gilles Deleuzes 

I have found the words of this contemporary French philosopher through a comment by a learned person in Kristin’s blog or Mararoa’s blog which unfortunately I am unable to spot now. That comment linked to a chapter of the glorious wikispace «Dream Islands» which I think, sustains and explains my humble thoughts herebefore. That chapter is entitled:

Scope of Islands

Island as a ‘catch-all’ concept

After Deleuzes’s quote it goes:

«Islands burn into the minds of children from an early age. They emerge in the first literature where they are prominent in Homer’s Odyssey, and Plato’s island of Atlantis is perhaps the most famous mythical island of all time. The seclusion and autonomy that an island suggests has nourished the literary imagination for millennia, but the island setting as a site for the spiritual, emotional, or psychological transformation of human character has remained a constant in Western literature. The Greeks were the first to develop the island-book as such, but Roman writers showed much less interest in insular themes. On the fringes of Europe, Island stories were generously developed in the ‘imrama’, which were medieval Irish accounts of mythical Atlantic island voyages of chiefs and saints.
From Homer to Charles Kingsley the island narrative..

The other chapters of Dream Islands are very enlightening too. Notably :

An antidote

«Islands are no longer bound up so immediately with a self-sufficient agrarian life, its rituals and the cultivation of social solidarity. They instead begin to function as an antidote to the increasing division of labor and social stratification of the mainland. For modern islanders their environment functions as a vehicle for the display of individual temperament, talent, and interest, which runs against the grain of a standardized mainland global consumer culture. Islands therefore become loci of the impress of distinctive personality, interest, and emotion in sensuous production. In particular, they often function as a font of individual artistic production compared with the old rituals and epics, such as the poems of Homer, primeval biblical history and the Icelandic sagas, which linked everyone to common ways of life.

An important resource for modern islanders is nature. What we seek on islands is what we love in nature. Friedrich Shiller described…»

Classification of islands

«A dream island is a distinctive and desirable place to be, which is defined within a physical, cultural, administrative, biological, mental, or virtual boundary. It is likely that most people’s dream islands would fall within the physical, administrative and biological categories.»

(Don’t miss the link to «Cultural Islands» )

 Islands – poetry and art

«Paradise or Purgatory, Heaven or Hell, islands leave no one indifferent – and least of all the world’s artists, poets and writers, musicians and scholars, as reflected in the sampling the following links : Writings and Art

Unfortunately the link to the last chapter «Islands as Utopias» is no more valid. Instead, I am giving you a link to the standard Wikipedia :

List of fictional islands

That was all on the subject and I think it wasn’t too little. Read about one of the oldest ideas in the world and be inspired. But some day leave the paper behind and follow the dream to find out what truth there is to it. Defy the distance and sail through the shoals and the booming high surf.

A real island may be waiting for you thereafter and therein.

Ikaria, October 26, 2013

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What I believe


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[Ikaria, isole Egeo orientale, Grecia]

permafrost.click's buddy icon by Silvia  (‘permafrost.click’) taken in Ikaria, featuring in her set (abandoned)
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.

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The full poem without my arbitrary omissions can be found at https://i2.wp.com/static.mediapart.fr/sites/all/themes/mediapart/mediapart_v4/images/mediapart.png

 


Το Πέλαγος του Βοριά



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Ikaria 157 - The Sea

.Τ ο  π έ λ α γ ο ς  τ ο υ  β ο ρ ι ά

 

Εκείνο που οι Αμερικάνοι

όταν έρχονται, ονομάζουν

καμιά φορά Ωκεανό

γιατί δεν φαίνεται

τίποτα στον ορίζοντα

σαν να είναι η άκρη

κάποιας ηπείρου,

αφού βρέξει και έχουν πλυθεί

οι αιθέρες και έχει απλωθεί

σιγαλιά, τότε πότε-πότε

μου δίνει

και βλέπω

διάφορα.

Παραδείγματος χάριν:

Πρώτα, τα δελφίνια,

κι ύστερα μια ψαρόβαρκα

που κάθε μέρα ψαρεύει

επίμονα στο ίδιο σημείο.

Στο βάθος, μακριά στο κανάλι

περνούν φορτηγά φορτωμένα ίσως

τσιμέντο, σιτάρι, αυτοκίνητα,

εκτυπωτές. Και γιγαντιαία

πετρελαιοφόρα.

Αργότερα λίγο πριν σουρουπώσει,

μπορεί να δω σαν φάντασμα να περνάει

καμιά πυραυλάκατος,

ή ένα -πιο ειρηνικό-

μικρό ιστιοπλοϊκό

που θέλω να πιστεύω

πως θα ‘ναι κανείς

Νορβηγός που κάνει

το γύρο του κόσμου,

ή ακόμα ίσως μια φίλη μου

που βαρέθηκε “να κάνει

αθροίσεις σε χοντρά

λογιστικά βιβλία”.

Όταν νυχτώνει περνούνε περίλαμπρα

τα κρουαζιερόπλοια: Μασσαλία,

Νάπολη, Μύκονος, Έφεσος.

Ίσως την ίδια ώρα, απ’ την άλλη μεριά

ξεκινούν να περάσουν απέναντι

στα μουλωχτά γυναικόπαιδα

μετανάστες τους προμαχώνες

του Κάστρου Ευρώπη.

Κι επιτέλους κάποια ώρα

διασχίζει το μαύρο τελάρο

κάτι πιο γνώριμο, το καράβι

απ’ τον Πειραιά, εκείνο που

φέρνει τον καφέ μου και τα τσιγάρα μου.

Φωτοβολίδες, ανεμοστρόβιλοι, παράξενες αναλαμπές,

σύννεφα σαν αρχάγγελοι, μια φορά μου φάνηκε πως

είδα ένα φυσητήρα (διάβασα κι έμαθα πως πράγματι

συχνάζουν), μεγάλα πουλιά, γερανοί, πελαργοί,

αγριόκυκνοι.

Μια μέρα ονειρεύομαι πως θα φανεί εκείνο

το μαύρο πειρατικό με τα πενήντα κανόνια

που γράφει ο Μπρεχτ στο τραγούδι του Βάιλ,

ίσως ακόμα την ίδια την Pirate Jenny,

θριαμβεύουσα.

Γιατί στο πέλαγο μπορεί να δει κανείς

otinanai

Γιατί στο πέλαγο…

ta panta rei

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Εδω Ελενη.

Καθως βρισκομαι στην Ικαρια σημερα ειχα διαθεση να παρουσιασω στο μπλογκ μου το παραπανω ποιητικο κειμενο που εγραψε αγαπημενος φιλος γι αυτα που βλεπουμε με τα ματια του σωματος και της ψυχης οταν απο τα βουνα του νησιου μας αγναντευουμε το πελαγος.

Το Πελαγος του Βορια” ανηκει στη σειρα otinanaiπου ο φιλος μου δημοσιευει σχεδον καθε μηνα στο ikariamag, το διαδικτυακο περιοδικο της Ικαριας που μας ενημερωνει και μας κραταει συντροφια.

Ελεύθερες Πτήσεις : otinanai

Για να το εικονογραφησει, διαλεξε μια φωτογραφια που εβγαλα εγω καποτε σε μια χειμωνιατικη πεζοπορια στα βουνα και μου εκανε μεγάλη χαρα και τιμη λεγοντας μου πως του εδωσε εμπνευση.

Χαρα και τιμη οχι ομως εκπληξη. Μοιραζομαστε την ιδια αγαπη για τους ανοιχτους πελαγισιους οριζοντες, την ίδια φαντασια και περιεργεια για τα θεαματα και τα θαυματα που κρυβουν και φανερωνουν. Αληθεια, αυτο το κομματι θα μπορουσαμε να το ειχαμε γραψει μαζι.

Πφφφ… κολακευομαι…

Στην πραγματικοτητα ειναι ολο δικο του.

Γι αυτο, αναδημοσιευοντας στο μπλογκ μου, αντισταθηκα στον πειρασμο και δεν προσθεσα αλλες φωτογραφιες εκτος απο τις αρχικες, δηλαδη εκτος απο τη δικη μου στην αρχη και της Πελαγιας απο τη Σαμοθρακη στο τελος.

.Καλο Χειμωνα

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I shall foot it (TUGTII #2)


The Unofficial Guide to Ikaria Island #2

Rock Litany

Ikaria 224, («Rock Litany») originally uploaded by isl_gr.

Comments

Eleni Ikanou in Ikaria

«I shall foot it
Down the roadway in the dusk,
Where shapes of hunger wander
And the fugitives of pain go by.
I shall foot it
In the silence of the morning,
See the night slur into dawn,
Hear the slow great winds arise
Where tall trees flank the way
And shoulder toward the sky.

Ikaria 303 - Mother carrying baby on her back

The broken boulders by the road
Shall not commemorate my ruin.
Regret shall be the gravel under foot.
I shall watch for
Slim birds swift of wing
That go where wind and ranks of thunder
Drive the wild processionals of rain.

The dust of the traveled road
Shall touch my hands and face.»

~ Carl Sandburg, 1878-1967 ~
Additional photos by Chr. Malachias

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http://0.gravatar.com/avatar/a9f7823e81235a78c0403b4be7b53709?s=96&d=identicon&r=G Powered by egotoagrimi

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Freedom in Xylosirtis
 
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Καλως Ηρθατε στην Αντιμυκονο 😊


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«We try to make a world of our own» by Nana Agrimi | Flickr


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Καλώς Ήρθατε στην ΑντιΜύκονο
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island summer by Karina Logotheti on FlickrΝέα Νήσος Αναδύθηκε
Ανατολικά της Μυκόνου.
Καλώς ήρθατε
στην Αντιμύκονο.
Μη την αντιστρέψετε.

crab | film by Karina Logotheti on FlickrΓιατί θα καταστρέψετε
Μια όμορφη αντιδιαστολή.
Απαραίτητη και πολύ βολική.

Melina | film by Karina Logotheti on FlickrΓιατί όπου υπάρχει μια
Μύκονος, πρέπει να
Υπάρχει μια Αντιμύκονος.
Δεν θα σπάσουμε
τον καθρέφτη
Δεν θα βγούμε απ’το όνειρο

koritsia ston ilio | film by Karina Logotheti on FlickrΣτην πραγματικότητα όπου
Όλα είναι Ένα
(Το οποίο είναι
πράγμα αβάσταχτο,
τρομερό).
Δεν θα βγούμε.
Όχι ακόμα τουλάχιστον.

Alex | film by Karina Logotheti on FlickrΚαλώς ήρθατε
στην Αντιμύκονο,
Το καινούργιο νησί
που αναδύθηκε φέτος
Ανατολικά της Μυκόνου.

lightlovenature on InstagramΓια τη δική σας ευκολία
Θερμή παράκληση
από τις αρχές:
Περπατάτε στα νύχια.
Όλα είναι Όνειρο.


☁ ☁ ☁ ☁ ☁



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Αυτο ηταν ενα αυτοσχεδιο ποιημα που εγραψα και στα Ελληνικα και στα Αγγλικα απο μια ιδεα που γεννηθηκε στο μυαλο μου καθως κοιτουσα μια φωτογραφια μιας φιλης μου απο την Ικαρια το καλοκαιρι. Στολισα το αρθρο με διαφορες αλλες εικονες που νομιζω οτι ταιριαζουν στο νοημα. 😊
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Welcome to AntiMykonos
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Simple old room in IkariaEastward of Mykonos
A New Island has emerged.
Welcome to Antimykonos
Do not reverse, please.

βάθρα | film by Karina Logotheti on FlickrBecause you will destroy
A beautiful contradistinction,
Requisite and very
convenient,

LUZ by Maria Zaferina on InstagramBecause where there is
Mykonos
There must be Antimykonos.
We aren’t breaking
the mirror,
We aren’t getting out
of the dream

νους υγιης σε σωμα ελευθερο (Ικαρια 1)Into the reality where
All is One (which
Is thing unbearable,
terrible). We are
Not getting out of it
-not yet at least.

νους υγιης σε σωμα ελευθερο (Ικαρια 2)Welcome to Antimykonos,
The New Island
that emerged
Eastward of Mykonos
this year.

For your own convenience,
Kind request by the
authorities:
Walk on the tips
of your toes,
All is a Dream.


☁ ☁ ☁ ☁ ☁



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That was an improvised poem that I wrote in both Greek and English from an idea that came to my mind as I was looking at a friend’s photo from Ikaria in the summer. I adorned the article with several other pictures that I thought they fit to the meaning. 😊
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Here, Let Me Stand


Ikaria 231
Εδώ ας σταθώ. Κι ας δω κ’ εγώ την φύσι λίγο.


Comments

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mountain ash2005 says:

What a beautiful shot of a peaceful morning….

view profile

simonsterg Pro User says:

coO0ool!
Is that mist rolling down the side of Kerkis?
How does it seem so close?

view profile

isl_gr Pro User says:

(added notes)
the poem where the Greek title is from goes on and says something like «… in the morning hour everything looks beautiful and BIG.»

«όλα ωραία και μεγάλα…»

‘mountain ash’ did you recognize the poem and the poet?
Alexandria? sweet gay guy? eeh?

view profile

simonsterg Pro User says:

…aha! (seeing notes) – now I feel foolish – I had wondered if you had suddenly found a telephoto…

view profile

mountain ash2005 says:

I don’t know the poem El, but I have seen early mornings like these – mainly when I am leaving the island, so they are always poignant and very beautiful. And everything seems big, and it is impossible to believe that this is being left behind…. (I will try and find the poem now!)

view profile

Tragopodaros says:

I am lost for words at this one; it has all of Ikaria for me….

view profile

cheeseontaoist says:

Excellent picture, it dwarfs all my pictures of the same subject….

view profile

angeloska says:

@ you have a sure foot ! How high up you stood there (to repeat a comment on Ikaria 233) ? Why does everything look so beautifully distorted?

@ » Εδώ ας σταθώ κι ας δω κ’ εγώ τη φύσι λίγο.

Θάλασσας του πρωϊού κι ανέφελου ουρανού

λαμπρά μαβιά και κίτρινη όχθη. Όλα

ωραία και μεγάλα φωτισμένα.

Εδώ ας σταθώ. Κι ας γελασθώ πως βλέπω αυτά

(τα είδ’ αλήθεια μια στιγμή σαν πρωτοστάθηκα)

κι όχι κ’ εδώ τες φαντασίες μου,

τες αναμνήσεις μου, τα ινδάλματα της ηδονής.»

Sooo cool El … From all the people ONLY YOU could call the poet K.P. Kavafis a «sweet gay guy» !!!

view profile

mountain ash2005 says:

Morning Sea

Let me stop here. Let me, too, look at nature awhile.

The brilliant blue of the morning sea, of the cloudless sky,

the shore yellow; all lovely,

all bathed in light

Let me stand here. And let me pretend I see all this

(I actually did see it for a minute when I first stopped)

and not my usual day-dreams here too,

my memories, those sensual images.

Constantine P. Cavafy

I didn’t connect to Kavafis the other evening, but I should have picked it up from your comment El. Anyway, I found a translation….perhaps not an accurate one, but it still fits your picture perfectly.

view profile

isl_gr Pro User says:

@ simonsterg : I tell you the islands are like a mountain range sunk. Didi you know? They say that the caves of the prehistoric man are now under the sea.
@ trag : it’s because your land base is in Armenistis and this is a ‘bye-bye’ picture as ‘mountain ash’ pointed out.
@cheeseontaoist : can’t beat a Lomo ! I just found myself in the right spot the right time.
@ angeloska : 1) sure have a sure foot ! What would I be doing in Ikaria if I didn’t… 2) And I’d call Seferis «fat moody guy», ok? What’s your problem?
@ mountain ash : This is one of my most very best poems ever. Kavafis was a 100% urban poet. This is the only verses he wrote about nature, that it was like a vision to him and still the most real even if it lasted for a few secs. (the translation is somehow ‘puritan’ -there should be a better one)
@ everybody : THANKS A LOT

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Tragopodaros says:

No, its much more than that for me – you have captured the heights and depths and mysteries (hidden in the folds) of the island.

view profile

Tragopodaros says:

Yes, «puritan» is an interesting term to use about a translation, but actually, Ashy, it is possibly TOO accurate. O Trag will now be inspired to do his own…at…some…point.

view profile

simonsterg Pro User says:

Now I know that cavemen strolled between Atheras and Kerkis, stopping off briefly to sketch a mamoth in the valley, I feel better.
But this is a side salad because…
►►►
live translation of poetry is happening on this page!
►►►
will it be loud and brash or louche and limpid??
►►►
watch this space!

view profile

Tragopodaros says:

And keep watching, as patiently as the poet.
Posted 14 months ago.

view profile

isl_gr Pro User says:

see if you can give a close translation to the «indalmata tis idonis» (idols/visions/models of physical/sensual pleasure ?) and I’ll be down on my knees.
I *really discovered nature* an early morning long ago as I was out and escaping from a lover’s bed who I had idealized too much.

I like to think that *sweet gay guy* had probably found himself in the same situation with a boyfriend down in Alexandria in the 1910s. He left the room and *wow* what did he see? dawn in the gulf of Alexandria !

view profile

mountain ash2005 says:

so it signifies a different kind of leaving too – but also new beginnings. We’ve all been there….

view profile

Tragopodaros says:

Here, let me stand. Let me stand here awhile
and see for myself this natural world.
The morning sea, a cloudless sky,
the glistening blue, the yellow strand.

All so perfect, vast and bright.

Let me fool myself I see all this
(for in truth, I saw it all at once)
and not those things imagined, here:
my memories, the baubles of indulgence.

view profile

simonsterg Pro User says:

░░░░░░░░░
loud applause
░♪░░░░♪░░
Posted 14 months ago.

view profile

mountain ash2005 says:

Bravo Trago!! I knew you would rise to the challenge….. You don’t disappoint, & your version far outstrips the other.
Posted 14 months ago.

view profile

simonsterg Pro User says:

… and you posted it in the small hours… did ‘baubles of indulgence’ come in a flash or were there lots of screwed up balls of paper and empty beer bottles on the desk? Whichever, Atheras and Kerkis bow down and underwater Mammoths trumpet!
(but will girl s be satisfied??)
Posted 14 months ago.

view profile

angeloska says:

from me too, Bravo Trago !
Posted 14 months ago.

view profile

Tragopodaros says:

We’ll just wait for El, then.
Posted 14 months ago.

view profile

isl_gr Pro User says:

pls make some room here friends; this is a shot taken a month ago with Trag in my mind and loaded tonight again specially for Trag. Take it *da man* and drive it to the clouds :-)) x El

Ikaria 234

P.S. *da man* or *ye da man* is an abbreviation of a friendly *you there man* (like the Greek, ρε συ). I learned it from the Africans in Athens and Pireus. Like they, so do I use it for my equals and friends to show them my affection, respect and admiration w/o sounding like a pompous *malakas*
Posted 14 months ago.

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Tragopodaros says:

Okay, thanks El that is the best gift you could give….wish I had taken this shot.

Thanks all. I did the whole thing inside half and hour, but had to wait until the wee hours to get enough peace. The baubles bit was about ten minutes and yes a few crossings out, but no screwed-up paper.

I feel like I have hijacked El’s page now…
Posted 14 months ago.

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mountain ash2005 says:

Not hijacked, just complimented.
Posted 14 months ago.

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angeloska says:

complimented indeed – because El doesn’t like garbidge and wrecked cars unless they are piled or parked orderly, or I don’t know how, like in:
www.flickr.com/photos/isl_gr/96890349/
Posted 14 months ago.

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isl_gr Pro User says:

no, no, it’s ok. It’s just that I didn’t have a boy brother. But I can understand the art in *broken dolls on piles of rags* very well.
Posted 14 months ago.

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Peppetta says:

Mount Atheras: the cloud maker.
I rimember in a perfect blue sky day the clouds appear on the top of the highest peak, coming from nowhere.
A kind of magic?
Posted 13 months ago.

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isl_gr Pro User says:

*the early bird catches the worm*
(missed you Pep; I was looking through your favorite pics just yeasterday. Very Good taste and not too much *glamour photography* -though an Italian -lol)
Posted 13 months ago.

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Peppetta says:

I misssssed you too El
thank you dear but …what a shame! there are too much naked women pictures in my favorites!
Posted 13 months ago.

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isl_gr Pro User says:

Oh, I didn’t mind ‘Pep’. I’m not going to make a scene on you here ((in front of all the people). Let’s just stand and watch the nature, as the poet suggests, shall we?
Posted 13 months ago.

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Peppetta says:

I LIKE nature!

Comments

(2 total) Post a Comment

after a yellow goat pested land, you give us sapphires! your favorite gems and colors -:))

Tuesday July 31, 2007 – 11:44pm (EEST) Remove Comment

Ωραία τα ζαφείρια, αλλά πειράζει που ο Καβάφης κι εγώ δεν τα πάμε καλά;

Wednesday August 1, 2007 – 06:37pm (EEST)