secret, fragile skies: a moveable feast

Monday, September 14, 2009

a moveable feast

If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.

Ernest Hemingway
: flickr

5 comments:

Lydia said...: Ooh, perfect shot for the excerpt. What a great book!; September 15, 2009 4:08 AM
you are the light of the world said...: hi,
Similar interests, mutual respect and strong attachment with each other are what friends share between each other. These are just the general traits of a friendship.To experience what is friendship, one must have true friends, who are indeed rare treasure.

I have added you to my blogroll, hope you can do the same thing for me so that we can have constant communication.; September 15, 2009 7:42 AM
The Clever Pup said...: i like this photo very much. I attempted to paint the woman on the left. Not well, as is witnessed on the sidebar on my blog.

Great book by the way.; September 15, 2009 7:55 PM
Bee said...: I guess that everyone who reads that book is forever in love with an idea of Paris. That beautiful photographs sums up everything that was elegant and possible in that brief time between the world wars.; September 17, 2009 2:29 PM
T. Clear said...: ...or as a young woman! I read A Movable Feast in Paris at age 22. Not much since then has been as marvelous!; September 17, 2009 8:29 PM

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The universe is no narrow thing and the order within it is not constrained by any latitude in its conception to repeat what exists in one part in any other part. Even in this world more things exist without our knowledge than with it and the order in creation which you see is that which you have put there, like a string in a maze, so that you shall not lose your way. For existence has its own order and that no man's mind can compass, that mind itself being but a fact among others.
— Cormac McCarthy

(sign at a railroad crossing in Kenya)

In a poem, one line may hide another line,
As at a crossing, one train may hide another train.
That is, if you are waiting to cross
The tracks, wait to do it for one moment at
Least after the first train is gone. And so when you read
Wait until you have read the next line--
Then it is safe to go on reading.
In a family one sister may conceal another,
So, when you are courting, it's best to have them all in view
Otherwise in coming to find one you may love another.
One father or one brother may hide the man,
If you are a woman, whom you have been waiting to love.
So always standing in front of something the other
As words stand in front of objects, feelings, and ideas.
One wish may hide another. And one person's reputation may hide
The reputation of another. One dog may conceal another
On a lawn, so if you escape the first one you're not necessarily safe;
One lilac may hide another and then a lot of lilacs and on the Appia
Antica one tomb
May hide a number of other tombs. In love, one reproach may hide another,
One small complaint may hide a great one.
One injustice may hide another--one colonial may hide another,
One blaring red uniform another, and another, a whole column. One bath
may hide another bath
As when, after bathing, one walks out into the rain.
One idea may hide another: Life is simple
Hide Life is incredibly complex, as in the prose of Gertrude Stein
One sentence hides another and is another as well. And in the laboratory
One invention may hide another invention,
One evening may hide another, one shadow, a nest of shadows.
One dark red, or one blue, or one purple--this is a painting
By someone after Matisse. One waits at the tracks until they pass,
These hidden doubles or, sometimes, likenesses. One identical twin
May hide the other. And there may be even more in there! The obstetrician
Gazes at the Valley of the Var. We used to live there, my wife and I, but
One life hid another life. And now she is gone and I am here.
A vivacious mother hides a gawky daughter. The daughter hides
Her own vivacious daughter in turn. They are in
A railway station and the daughter is holding a bag
Bigger than her mother's bag and successfully hides it.
In offering to pick up the daughter's bag one finds oneself confronted by
the mother's
And has to carry that one, too. So one hitchhiker
May deliberately hide another and one cup of coffee
Another, too, until one is over-excited. One love may hide another love
or the same love
As when "I love you" suddenly rings false and one discovers
The better love lingering behind, as when "I'm full of doubts"
Hides "I'm certain about something and it is that"
And one dream may hide another as is well known, always, too. In the
Garden of Eden
Adam and Eve may hide the real Adam and Eve.
Jerusalem may hide another Jerusalem.
When you come to something, stop to let it pass
So you can see what else is there. At home, no matter where,
Internal tracks pose dangers, too: one memory
Certainly hides another, that being what memory is all about,
The eternal reverse succession of contemplated entities. Reading
A Sentimental Journey look around
When you have finished, for Tristram Shandy, to see
If it is standing there, it should be, stronger
And more profound and theretofore hidden as Santa Maria Maggiore
May be hidden by similar churches inside Rome. One sidewalk
May hide another, as when you're asleep there, and
One song hide another song; a pounding upstairs
Hide the beating of drums. One friend may hide another, you sit at the
foot of a tree
With one and when you get up to leave there is another
Whom you'd have preferred to talk to all along. One teacher,
One doctor, one ecstasy, one illness, one woman, one man
May hide another. Pause to let the first one pass.
You think, Now it is safe to cross and you are hit by the next one. It
can be important
To have waited at least a moment to see what was already there.

Kenneth Koch

nothing that is

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

Wallace Stevens

To read: Hibernation Blues.

:emili

secret, fragile skies
Blog

Monday, September 14, 2009

a moveable feast

5 comments:

“Maybe that’s what life is . . . a wink of the eye and winking stars”
Jack Kerouac

All Things French

Resources

Influences

The weight of the world Is love

Maze

Films

In the Mood for Love, Wong Kar Wei

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nothing that is

Blog Archive

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About Me

visitors as of August 2009

secret, fragile skies Blog

Monday, September 14, 2009

a moveable feast

5 comments:

“Maybe that’s what life is . . . a wink of the eye and winking stars” Jack Kerouac

All Things French

Resources

Influences

The weight of the world Is love

Maze

Films

In the Mood for Love, Wong Kar Wei

List

Labels

nothing that is

Blog Archive

Followers

About Me

visitors as of August 2009

secret, fragile skies
Blog

“Maybe that’s what life is . . . a wink of the eye and winking stars”
Jack Kerouac