too much outdoor over the weekend, i have worn out my bones by cycling along the rhine to koln and climbing the siebengebirge (half-way, admittedly), sprinkled by lazying out in the sun, finding stones to sit on looking on the kayaks passing by.
a recital of forough farroghzad, the wind will carry us – first in abbas’ kiorastami film in the underground – the second recited by sonia near the bank. i discover the essence of a woman lies in the ability to pique the curiosity of man (men and women alike) – under the blanket of night, behind a veil or a shroud, beyond the eyes of the beholder. once this is revealed, the essence is lost. therefore, cries of majnun versus WAP songs, or to remember a line from detective conan’s comic – “A secret makes a woman, a woman.”
i have witnessed their cries and tears – perhaps in part being responsible for evoking them, but i am at loss to console. i surrender to silence.
shall we go to cordova over the spring, then?
a note on clubhouse: every room is an echo chamber, we are ultimately alone and choose not to be alone. a reveal on the other side’s disposal of time – we wander from room to room, but isn’t solitude in the end preferable?
reads and recent purchases to read; charles taylor’s a secular age, walter j ong’s orality and literacy, ceritera asal bangsa jin.
perkaraperkara 