Tyler Clark Burke (I think).
Funny these should come in today.
(y sí, a ella también le pasa.)
Tyler Clark Burke (I think).
Funny these should come in today.
(y sí, a ella también le pasa.)
I asked the zebra,
Are you black with white stripes?
Or white with black stripes?
And the zebra asked me,
Are you good with bad habits?
Or are you bad with good habits?
Are you noisy with quiet times?
Or are you quiet with noisy times?
Are you happy with some sad days?
Or are you sad with some happy days?
Are you neat with some sloppy ways?
Or are you sloppy with some neat ways?
And on and on and on and on
And on and on he went.
I’ll never ask a zebra
About stripes
Again.
- Shel Silvertein
“The postmodern reply to the modern consists of recognizing that the past, since it cannot really be destroyed, because its destruction leads to silence, must be revisited: but with irony, not innocently. I think of the postmodern attitude as that of a man who loves a very cultivated woman and knows that he cannot say to her I love you madly , because he knows that she knows (and that she knows he knows) that these words have already been written by Barbara Cartland. Still, there is a solution. He can say As Barbara Cartland would put it, I love you madly . At this point, having avoided false innocence, having said clearly that it is no longer possible to speak innocently, he will nevertheless have said what he wanted to say to the woman: that he loves her in an age of lost innocence. If the woman goes along with this, she will have received a declaration of love all the same. Neither of the two speakers will feel innocent, both will have accepted the challenge of the past, of the already said, which cannot be eliminated; both will consciously and with pleasure play the game of irony But both will have succeeded, once again, in speaking of love.” - Umberto Eco
In the morning mist, the barely visible figure of a woman. As if on a tight rope, she walks along the edges of a stone pool, one step at a time. Close by, the same figure appears, creating a hand shadow on the wall of a rough concrete building, or contemplating its reflection in the calm waters of a lake…Recollections of childhood games, moments when one discovers in bewilderment that we are actually part of this world. Human presence discretely seeps into the landscapes, softly slides in. A posture, a slight gesture… and a link is established. A shadow is cast, an object is picked up, a reflection is seen : the effect of a being on his surroundings always remains slight. The body may then make its imprint by proxy, by mere projection. Points of contact appear, bonds are woven, and these minimalist spaces become territories of introspection (…)
Raphaëlle Stopin in Nextlevel no.4, 2003
According to an ancient Chinese legend, one day in the year 2640 B.C., Princess Si Ling-chi was sitting under a mulberry tree when a silkworm cocoon fell into her teacup. When she tried to remove it, she noticed that the cocoon had begun to unravel in the hot liquid. She handed the loose end to her maidservant and told her to walk. The servant went out of the princess’s chamber, and into the palace courtyard, and through the palace gates, and out of the Forbidden City, and into the countryside a half mile away before the cocoon ran out. (In the West, this legend would slowly mutate over three millennia, until it became the story of a physicist and an apple. Either way, the meanings are the same: great discoveries, whether of silk or of gravity, are always windfalls. They happen to people loafing under trees.)
Jeffrey Euginides, Middlesex.