tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-206040632024-03-13T02:03:55.588+01:00aile verteaileverte :: Ela Kotkowskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05024805730684431752noreply@blogger.comBlogger155125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20604063.post-57362512463927291592012-11-21T12:52:00.002+01:002013-11-29T23:29:45.564+01:00Sur les pas de Sophie Calle ...
De la journée ne restaient que quelques heures, toute la clarté éparpillée en bossant sur des épreuves. Juste assez de temps pour aller à la bibliothèque, métro Faidherbe-Chaligny. J'ai rendu les quatre documentaires et me suis dirigée vers le rayon photo. J'ai voulu consulter un des ouvrages de Sophie Calle que je ne connaissais pas: Où? Quand? La bibliothèque Faidherbe n'avait que le volume aileverte :: Ela Kotkowskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05024805730684431752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20604063.post-14527121357007383002011-09-02T18:46:00.006+02:002011-09-03T00:25:58.134+02:00rêveJ'ai fait un rêve qui durait toute ma vie:
Enfant, j'ai passé beaucoup du temps dans la maison de ma grand-mère. Sauf que la grand-mère n'était pas là: il y avait d'autres femmes, entre elles N. [peut-être parce qu'elle émane ce calme maternel que ni ma mère ni ma grand-mère ne possédaient pas?], une tante je crois, voisines peut-être. . . . Je jouais avec des enfants tsiganes et en ailevertehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222198452701514110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20604063.post-72665490706062894092011-07-28T23:39:00.001+02:002011-07-28T23:40:37.306+02:00No wonder the Paris residence program attracted such a large enrollment this year: the door of their new office was labeled: STUDY A BROADailevertehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222198452701514110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20604063.post-46640440200524393672010-07-11T08:45:00.017+02:002010-07-11T21:51:29.854+02:00at five o'clock in the morning, everything is still and the streets are empty. that's what one would expect: yet there is a life that goes on: crows cross the street with their resolute step, approach the cars chosen well in advance, call out to each other their morning news, sit on rooftops and adjust tv antennas to their favorite programs. unlike humans, crows are never in a rush. they pass ailevertehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222198452701514110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20604063.post-50848415247669085092010-07-10T21:34:00.024+02:002010-07-11T21:44:27.506+02:00If one can say of breath that it is well-articulated, like a word when it is pronounced with clear diction, then what I heard in my ear, as if someone were leaning over it after I had been lying awake for quite some time, waiting for the sun to come up, was a single, well-articulated exhalation. I could almost recognize the sound of voice that seemed to reside in the breath's inaudible wake. Yet ailevertehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222198452701514110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20604063.post-55144794984774022442010-07-06T17:58:00.000+02:002010-07-06T17:58:00.940+02:00Drugstore hypocrisy: For sale at Boots pharmacy: DOUBLE FACED PADS.
ailevertehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222198452701514110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20604063.post-58357475245367989042010-06-19T23:42:00.002+02:002010-06-19T23:42:54.729+02:00as long as I hold on to a poem, I am certain I won't drownailevertehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222198452701514110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20604063.post-65034339003424473442010-06-07T23:44:00.003+02:002010-06-19T23:46:29.582+02:00l'anniversaire d'une disparitionailevertehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222198452701514110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20604063.post-14945715897022832452010-05-31T18:57:00.001+02:002010-05-31T20:09:31.195+02:00Encounter: sitting in a dip by a grassy path, a fawn. Not much larger than an adult rabbit. Motionless and unafraid. I sat down on the path next to him. His nose wrinkled up, the skin like a child's, bare and pruned, and dark. I reached out and petted his face. We sat there for quite some time. Then he got up, turned about a few times, as if hesitating, then disappeared in a knee-high field of ailevertehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222198452701514110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20604063.post-57921863979416288652010-05-30T21:32:00.005+02:002010-05-31T10:34:07.905+02:00dreamI am standing in a room, facing a wall. To my left, a large window. It's dark outside, but the windows have not turned into mirrors. Outside, it's darkness and fog. The windows seem semi-opaque. Without turning my head, I can see a large black bird approach the glass, its wings outstretched, not flapping, but merely extended, keeping it suspended in that fog. The bird's beak is so close to the ailevertehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222198452701514110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20604063.post-34840345512256267502010-05-28T23:07:00.002+02:002010-05-28T23:07:41.686+02:00they tied the knot in order not to forget.ailevertehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222198452701514110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20604063.post-28549655751880105732010-05-04T20:28:00.004+02:002011-06-27T00:28:23.044+02:00rêveIls ont fait sortir un livre de mes poèmes. J'en étais tant étonnée comme si c'était vrai. Qui a pu faire tant d'effort de retrouver tous ces poèmes dont moi-même j'avais oublié l'existence? Pourtant, la publication m'a déplût. Le papier était gris-jaune, le genre qui vieillit entre les mains. Couverture souple, grise-bleuâtre, avec un dessin assez simple représentant une fenêtre.
*
Mais ailevertehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222198452701514110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20604063.post-27143850020638211042010-04-28T21:57:00.004+02:002010-05-28T23:08:23.926+02:00sleep in the shoes before you wear them.ailevertehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222198452701514110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20604063.post-27699791748117906532010-04-04T22:35:00.003+02:002010-05-15T10:16:03.409+02:00
Strong fragrance of lilies fills the space of the room. It is more tangible than my own presence. Being here makes little sense and bears no relation to where I was a year ago. Or a week ago. The radical tectonic displacement makes it difficult to sustain the idea of a single person. And what if one is not a single person?
When one travels, the speed of movement and the temporal proximity of ailevertehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222198452701514110noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20604063.post-2132841792550535202010-03-08T00:04:00.003+01:002010-03-08T00:05:11.991+01:00Film-related posts will now appear on Kinematografika.
This blog will remain dedicated to random thoughts, dreams, residues. To sanity and insanity. Mental images. Forgettings.
ailevertehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222198452701514110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20604063.post-89236309971029186982010-02-22T23:34:00.002+01:002010-02-22T23:38:16.295+01:00just this: a bunch of tulips -- seven for the bedroom, one in the study (the British are odd to sell even-numbered bunches); strong mint tea in a glass teapot, kept warm by the flame of a tea candle; an orange tea-cup cradled in its orange saucer on top of an orange blanket; Wojciech Has's 'Szyfry'ailevertehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222198452701514110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20604063.post-79120741945244166552010-02-15T00:06:00.003+01:002010-02-15T00:08:08.684+01:00devant un film, j'ai l'impression d'être devant quelque chose vivant. Est-ce seule la question du mouvement? Flux des images?il y a une présence: il y a une vie dont dépend mon 'je', en ce moment, et qui dépend de moi, de quelque sorte.qui sait, d'ailleurs, lequel passe?ailevertehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222198452701514110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20604063.post-79448476296959877572010-02-08T23:20:00.002+01:002010-02-08T23:20:59.992+01:00- It's not your day...- Then whose day is it?ailevertehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222198452701514110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20604063.post-6785387517182540532010-02-06T17:39:00.003+01:002010-02-06T21:14:08.813+01:00peut-être je me suis mise dans un trou, sans moyens et sans promesses, dans la privation de la beauté même, afin de me faire m'en sortir par la seule voie qui me reste accessible: la voie d'encreailevertehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222198452701514110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20604063.post-86981434583885524172010-02-03T23:47:00.005+01:002010-05-31T10:47:56.659+02:00dream
Crouching on a balcony with my father who is observing something in the distance through binoculars. I can't see that far, and am looking up in the branches of the tree right above. A bird: sky-blue, the color children paint the sky, with white and navy-blue spots on its belly; then another: with a smooth, yellow crest on top of its head; and another: with a fine, hooked beak; and then a larger ailevertehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222198452701514110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20604063.post-23255957084709011652010-01-06T20:29:00.000+01:002010-01-06T20:30:00.264+01:00she wrote her first snow draftailevertehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222198452701514110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20604063.post-34752921100951379812009-12-14T08:23:00.004+01:002010-05-31T10:48:13.778+02:00
tonight I dreamed a dream which wasn't mine. I can't remember the details. It wasn't mine. Someone said to me, 'I dreamed you were going to die a tragic death'. But the dream wasn't mine.ailevertehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222198452701514110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20604063.post-30142055923829093842009-11-27T00:46:00.005+01:002010-01-11T07:56:16.225+01:00a note on narcissism, or an abrupt post-scriptum to an encounterA compliment paid reveals but what one desires, and a criticism brings to light what, within oneself, one most fears or reviles. The truth of one's remark lies, perhaps, only in the varying degrees of the generosity of the soul.There is no generosity without self-knowledge. For only one able to view the world as independent of one's own self -- not indifferent but invested with responsibility -- ailevertehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222198452701514110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20604063.post-80685820564171438172009-11-18T01:45:00.000+01:002009-11-18T01:46:05.286+01:00... the deadline was a deafline... and this only made the matters worse!ailevertehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222198452701514110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20604063.post-83259669380279065312009-11-08T15:38:00.006+01:002011-06-27T03:52:20.831+02:0007.11.09
solitary walk. Rather than
a crowd colorful explosions a rock band --
water winds round my waist:
if I had a Guide for each of my False steps
and satin sleeves to pass over their heads as I pass --
"the night is still young"
the wind lies in ailevertehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17222198452701514110noreply@blogger.com0