What if the world was ruled by two sisters Goddesses that nobody on Earth know or pray? Imagine their loneliness or their anger, their boredom, their wisdom…
Rilke writes that there are three ways for a passion to die :
Seeds to think about and with :
- “When you don’t examine Belzebuth’s proposition”
- “Dramatize tensions for lack of solving them”
- “Something happening for itself, and not as a preparation for something to come”
- “An obscure text, even for the author”
- “To take an interest in what’s left on the side“
- “Something is said, showed. Something isn’t, is hidden. What if you lean on the frontier between both?”
- “Change down a gear”. When? Where? How? Why?
Moon rays catchers. Who are they?
What kind of inner silence do you feel when someone accuses you of things you haven’t done since a long time?
Here are some Eluard poems translated in English :
…the fear of being forgotten