sleep spaces

by Robert Desnos






In the night there are of course the seven wonders
of the world and the greatness tragedy and enchantment.
Forests collide with legendary creatures hiding in thickets.
There is you.
In the night there are the walker’s footsteps the murderer’s
the town policeman’s light from the street lamp and the ragman’s lantern
There is you.
In the night trains go past and boats
and the fantasy of countries where it’s daytime. The last breaths
of twilight and the first shivers of dawn.
There is you.
A piano tune, a shout.
A door slams. A clock.
And not only beings and things and physical sounds.
But also me chasing myself or endlessly going beyond me.
There is you the sacrifice, you that I’m waiting for.
Sometimes at the moment of sleep strange figures are born and disappear.
When I shut my eyes phosphorescent blooms appear and fade
and come to life again like fireworks made of flesh.
I pass through strange lands with creatures for company.
No doubt you are there, my beautiful discreet spy.
And the palpable soul of the vast reaches.
And perfumes of the sky and the stars the song of a rooster
from 2000 years ago and piercing screams in a flaming park and kisses.
Sinister handshakes in a sickly light and axles grinding on paralyzing roads.
No doubt there is you who I do not know, who on the contrary I do know.
But who, here in my dreams, demands to be felt without ever appearing.
You who remain out of reach in reality and in dream.
You who belong to me through my will to possess your illusion
but who brings your face near mine only if my eyes are closed in dream as well as
in reality.
You who in spite of an easy rhetoric where the waves die on the beach
where crows fly into ruined factories, where the wood rots
crackling under a lead sun.
You who are at the depths of my dreams stirring up a mind
full of metamorphoses leaving me your glove
when I kiss your hand.
In the night there are stars and the shadowy motion of the sea,
of rivers, forests, towns, grass and the lungs
of millions and millions of beings.
In the night there are the seven wonders of the world.
In the night there are no guardian angels, but there is sleep.
In the night there is you.
In the daylight too. 

Robert Desnos
Still in Gustave Caillebotte modeThese are quite realistic for impressionistic paintings ,aren’t they? Still in Gustave Caillebotte modeThese are quite realistic for impressionistic paintings ,aren’t they? Still in Gustave Caillebotte modeThese are quite realistic for impressionistic paintings ,aren’t they?

Still in Gustave Caillebotte mode

These are quite realistic for impressionistic paintings ,aren’t they?

THE TRAIN SONG

Vashti Bunyan


Traveling north, traveling north to find you
Train wheels beating, the wind in my eyes
Don’t even know what I’ll say when I find you
Call out your name love don’t be surprised

It’s so many miles and so long since I’ve left you
Don’t even know what I’ll find when I get to you
But suddenly now I know where I belong
It’s many hundred miles and it won’t be long

Nothing at all in my head to say to you
Only the beat of the train that I’m on
Nothing I’ve learnt all my life on the way to you
One day our love was over and gone

It’s so many miles and so long since I’ve met you
Don’t even know what I’ll find when I get to you
But suddenly now I know where I belong
It’s many hundred miles and it won’t be long

What will I do if there’s someone there with you?
Maybe someone you’ve always known
How do I know I can come and give to you?
Love with no warning and find you alone

It’s so many miles and so long since I’ve met you
Don’t even know what I’ll find when I get to you
But suddenly now I know where I belong
It’s many hundred miles and it won’t be long
It won’t be long, it won’t be long, it won’t be long


του ρου ρου ρου 

a spent the whole afternoon staring at the wonderful paintings of Gustave Caillebotte.


i think i ‘ll post a couple more sets of his art later. a spent the whole afternoon staring at the wonderful paintings of Gustave Caillebotte.


i think i ‘ll post a couple more sets of his art later. a spent the whole afternoon staring at the wonderful paintings of Gustave Caillebotte.


i think i ‘ll post a couple more sets of his art later. a spent the whole afternoon staring at the wonderful paintings of Gustave Caillebotte.


i think i ‘ll post a couple more sets of his art later.

a spent the whole afternoon staring at the wonderful paintings of Gustave Caillebotte.

i think i ‘ll post a couple more sets of his art later.

mirrormaskcamera:

the dailies - photographs by aeric meredith-goujon:

"third attack"

imafrontierpioneer:

The Face

The last original shop from the Mod era remaining on Carnaby Street
London

2013

(via brrrianstorm)

“[Hide until everybody goes home.
Hide until everybody forgets about you.]
Hide until everybody dies.”
— Yoko Ono, from Grapefruit (via the-final-sentence)

τί έγινε και συμφώνησα με την Γιοκο Τσόκο, δεν ξέρω…

nock-nock-nock:

COMME des GARÇONS × OTOMO KATSUHIRO

(via johnconnorisdead)

Nastya KusakinaUndercover Fall/Winter 2014 Paris Fashion Week. Nastya KusakinaUndercover Fall/Winter 2014 Paris Fashion Week.

Nastya Kusakina
Undercover Fall/Winter 2014
Paris Fashion Week.

theremina:

Yves Saint Laurent wedding dress from 1965.

(via theycallme-flowers)

“Real love is never perplexed, never qualifies, never rejects, never demands. It replenishes, by grace of restoring unlimited circulation. It burns, because it knows the true meaning of sacrifice. It is life illuminated.”
— Henry Miller (via loveage-moondream)

(via loveage-moondream)