:: the subtle seductive power of a line ::
the meaning of "line" is not the same as what it was when everything seemed to be as crystal clear as the little drops on the tiles covering the bath ceiling, it apears now as something threatening and attractive all at the same time.__it will always puzzle me how a few strokes, or some brief secuence of little drops of ink can become something by which one can stay amazed for seconds, hours, lifetimes.___i can never ceaze to be seduced by the simplicity of the ambiguous magic of the line; i will never and must never and could never stop holding my breath in the pressence of such power, of such delighting product of pumping blood and controled tremmor.__is it possible for someone to do otherwise? is it possible that there is someone that resists to the basic impulse of contemplation and amusement? could it be that there is one so different from what i am, from what i cannot help being and living?___i hope not.
i can't escape dripping from the tip of my pen or pencil, i can't help being scrambeled across stretched celulose, i can't help being through this tremmor and this pulsating madness; i can't help being dazzled by what is mostly mine, but never entirely so.
coming in through my ears::Nostalgias/Carlos Gardel