Inkmarks On Empty Dreams

I found the whole story a shrine to Jacob Flanders, he is the real plot of the inexistent storyline. It’s like a sketch of the Great Gatsby, rather seen through the eyes of the other characters. The dialogues, the life quotes, the wishful thinking are modern, yet Jacob is not present. It’s like the story of the soul inside from outside. A rather original form of writing and describing a character’s fundamentals and rules of life. The beginnings of Virginia Woolf…. “The strange thing about life is that though the nature of it must have been apparent to every one for hundreds of years, no one has left any adequate account of it. The streets of London have their map; but our passions are uncharted. What are you going to meet if you turn this corner?”  “Life is but a procession of shadows, and God knows why it is that we embrace them so eagerly, and see them depart with such anguish.”  “Why, from the very windows, even in the dusk, you see a swelling run through the street, an aspiration, ...

“I feel I stand in a desert with my hands outstretched, and you are raining down upon me…” “I will comb you like music caught in the heads of all the trees in the forest…” O poveste pe cat de simpla,pe atat de complexa cu atatea momente de tandrete si iubire vadite si intense si inflamabile, cu atat mai tragica in punctul culminat, ce deriva din faptul ca societatea nu intelege si denatureaza sufletele prin prisma prejudecatii, chiar daca erau in America fabulosilor si libertinilor ani ‘50-‘60. Trairile si sentimentele sunt aceleasi ce le avem noi acum, fiecare detaliu si fiecare bucatica din faptura iubita sunt reliefate subtil, infiorator de dulce, dar atat de real si de direct, incat pare ca traim in acelasi timp si in acelasi asentiment sensational, ce nu se schimba si felul acesta de iubire, pare-se ca nu a fost denaturant de vremuri si oprelisti, ci a ramas definit si practic la fel, nu spun ca s-a inbunatatit pentru ca as jigni senaualitatea trairilor acelor vremuri, nu atat de ...

The horror of not being ourselves without the other being frightens us even now, because this abandon–the feeling of being in love for real and finally found the other part of the self- does not abolish the self, but enriches it by becoming a greater self, a complex self of two beings as one self – the twilight concept of the soulmate . The myth of the flood, the blood intimacy, the change of souls into the acknowledgement of the selves turned into a certain rage of men against women when they discovered they were dependent on them and not the vice-versa, rather the merging of the souls by becoming independent selves and not always creating the dual being of both in one and, most important of all, the kernel, are the main themes of DH Lawrence’s thinking. The novel tells the story of the Brangwens, who had lived for generations at the Marsh farm, yet as the generations grow, they try to break away from inoculating society’s ideas and visions of life and love. The men were dominated by ...

Oare e adevarat? In fiecare dintre noi sa existe o parte luminata si una intunecata, dualitatea sinelui e reala sau doar temporara ori patologica? Sinele oare poate fi corrupt in momente de slabiciune de partea intunecata, de la depresie, momente de cadere, si pana la extreme si crima? Umbra lui Jung, ca si concept exista si este corelata cu inconstientul si legatura dintre constient, inconstient si vise! Unde incepe si se sfarseste ori se impletesc fiecare cu fiecare? De asemenea apare si ideea de anima si animus, aceeasi cu yin si yang, aceeasi cu  povestea androginului se impletesc cu sinele si iubirea, ce se impletesc si se despletesc in cunoastere si recunoastere. Intodeauna, contrastul dintre alb si negru, intuneric si lumina, opusurile ce se atrag si se completeaza de la bine si rau, la contrastul dintre rase si credinte. Umbra este in fiecare dintre noi, si reprezinta partea necunoscuta inca a sinelui, poate fi pozitiva ori negativa. Aşezăm în lumină anumite aspecte ale noastre...

Perhaps it’s not the most amazing lovestory of all times….but it has essence. Perhaps the words are not rich devourings of an old passion…but they are coming from the heart. Perhaps it’s a coming of age story that never happened….but somehow the author recalls it in her head and in her heart like it was today…and the day after…forever. “Pages for you” by Sylvia Brownrigg “ "But sleeping : that was a new intimacy altogether, and one Flannery often could not believed she shared. It was a secret. What a person looked like when they couldn’t help it; what that defenselessness might suggest; what revelations might be conveyed by that loosend, floppy shape, in the unintended words or murmurs of the dreamer? To sleep with Anne was, an Flannery the ultimate trust. It was the handing over, the giving in. It was more than the keys to the realm: it was the realm, the realm of the deepest self. In their first nights together, Flannery made sure she stayed up past Anne, till she heard her lov...

De ce ne atat de teama de noi insane? Sa avem intentia sa depasim orice…orice rau, orice bine, orice ura, orice iubire inventata, orice demon al trecutului sau prezentului…. Frica si temerile ne definesc uneori existenta, dincolo de tarie de character, de credinta si de siguranta si cunoasterea de sine. Frica te consuma, daca o lasi, la fel si singuratatea, sunt demonii nostrii superficiali, care uneori rad de noi, in nesiguranta si neincredere. Ne este frica de atatea….de privare de libertate, de singuratate, de saracie, de hoti cand suntem bogati, de necunoscut din cauza iesirii din zona de comfort, de a ne destainui toate secretele aproapelui, de a nu fi raniti, teama de dezamagire, din cauza ca ne-am facut atatea sperante, teama de respingere care se naste din nesiguranta, la fel ca si teama de esec…practic traim intr-o dualitate a fricii, ce creeaza un intreg al temerilor noastre cele de toate zilele. Mai nou a aparut si teama de iubire…cat de trist e asta! Nici macar nu am ajuns ...

“Ce diferit, ce ambiguu mi se pare azi trecutul acela fara tine. E o simpla poveste, o biografie care nu-mi apartine; o evoc ca si cum as evoca destinul altei persoane. In aceasta incapere intunecata unde imi petrec viata, atat de retrasa din lume de parka as fi moarta, atat de departe de tot, cum esti si tu, Marina, zilele se aseamana cu un sir de lumini care se sting una cate una cu iuteala fulgerului, intr-o vijelie ce devoreaza timpul si o vad deja pe ultima sub licaririle palide si capricioase ale memoriei; te-am cunoscut in stralucirea soarelui, dar te chem noaptea, printre umbrele asfintitului sau sub scanteia prietenoasa a lunii. Pentru mine deja nu mai exista timp. Durerea copilariei si tradarile tineretii sunt atat de departe ca si clipa aceasta, chiar aceasta clipa, pe care nu sunt in stare sa o prind pentru ca deja a cazut in putul trecutului, s-a unit cu trecutul pe care ni l-am furat, singurul trecut autentic, tu, Marina, tu, dragostea mea.” “Orice destin, oricat de lung ...