Night train

This night train takes you to an imaginary space of escape, a city at the end of the world, where people talk as if they are imagining; a place that can't really exist. (...)
Has anyone ever been on a night train to Lisbon?
Pascal Mercier, during the launch of the Portuguese-language version of the Nachtzug nach Lissabon.

Sometimes I feel I was one.

Night train

Any story worth telling is always about two characters: The one that understand and the one that is understood.
Pascal Mercier, during the launch of the Portuguese-language version of the Nachtzug nach Lissabon.


Sometimes I feel we were both the both of them.

the sky today

The bluest blue in the sky all but breaks the rock-thick clouds
and yet
one can almost more than guess
the cotton-white topping that the silver lining announces.

Favourite quotes

"All this will not be finished in the first one hundred days. Nor will it be finished in the first one thousand days, nor in the
life of this administration, nor even perhaps in our lifetime on this
planet.
But let us begin."

Pres. John F. Kennedy

The Orson Wells Ressurection Awards

Also known as the OWRA, or just "the owras", the Orson Wells Ressurection Awards were based on the review Joel Siegel made of the 2006 movie Little Miss Sunshine. He says: "Orson Welles would have to come back to life for this not to make my year-end Top 10 list", a statement I wholeheartedly endorse.

Since then, whenever I really really like a movie, I kind of recurringly get the feeling that I wouldn't classify it as the "Movie Of My Life or whatever", but that it holds a special place, a place that cannot be better described than "Orson Welles would have to come back to life for this not to make my year-end Top 10 list".
Not that I'm a profound connoisseur of Orson Wells, but the thing just stuck with me.

holiness

In my arrogance, I often ask myself at the end of a day or a moment, if mine were the actions of a holyman. As arrogance is perhaps the unholiest of attributesl, I feel I'm automatically ruled out;
but I sometimes nonetheless try.

prayer

I mum words along the way. One step after the last, I turn my eyes up to the sky, my chin still facing down.

The words then become rhyming, meaningless sounds. The frantic repetition gains the shape of a smooth calling, a recitation, a momentary song without fear.

Nothing says "i'm sorry" like...

... flowers, i guess. I mean, has to be, right?