Each man kills the thing he loves

“Yet each man kills the thing he loves,
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!
Some kill their love when they are young,
And some when they are old;
Some strangle with the hands of Lust,
Some with the hands of Gold:
The kindest use a knife, because
The dead so soon grow cold.
Some love too little, some too long,
Some sell, and others buy;
Some do the deed with many tears,
And some without a sigh:
For each man kills the thing he loves,
Yet each man does not die.”

— Oscar Wilde

Books vs Photographs

Tamara Eda Temucin perfectly pairs photographs she finds on Minimal Zine with book covers.

Read and burn

Personal Message - The paintings of Michael Dumontier and Neil Farber

A home for Fernando Pessoa

Fernando Pessoa (1888-1935) was one of Portugal’s greatest modernist writers, renowned for creating different pseudonyms and writing personalities, each with their own backgrounds and characteristics. The three most significant ones were Alberto Caeiro, Álvaro de Campos and Ricardo Reis. Architect Filipe Paixão created a stone wall house as a place to read, write and think through, for a poet that is at the same time several. Each of the rooms vary in dimension, geometry and light according to the unique personal traits of Pessoa and his pseudonyms.

Fernando Pessoa’s writing room

Alberto Caeiro’s writing room

Álvaro de Campos’ writing room

Ricardo Reis’ writing room

via designboom

Sometimes everything seems so oh I don't know

Wall Piece with 200 Letters — Changing texts, removable letters, mouldings. 175 x 320 cm.

From march 2010 until february 2011 Mikko Kuorinki formed one new text on the wall of the Kiasma Museum of Contemporary Art in Helsinki every week.

Baking with Kafka

by Tom Gauld

☆

"Wer am meisten liebt, ist der Unterlegene und muss leiden (...)"

— Thomas Mann in Tonio Kröger (Der Tod in Venedig und andere Erzählungen)

Fort von hier

"Fort von hier, nur fort von hier! Du musst mir nicht sagen, wohin du mich führst. Wo ist Deine Hand, ach ich kann sie im Dunkel nicht ertasten. Hielte ich nur schon Deine Hand, ich glaube Du würdest mich dann nicht verwerfen. Hörst Du mich? Bist du überhaupt im Zimmer? Vielleicht bist Du gar nicht hier. Was sollte Dich auch herlocken in das Eis und Nebel des Nordens, wo man Menschen gar nicht vermuten sollte. Du bist nicht hier, Du bist ausgewichen diesen Orten. Ich aber stehe und falle mit der Entscheidung darüber, ob du hier bist oder nicht."

Sorry about all the German but this is from Kafka's book Das Ehepaar (The Married Couple) and I prefer to keep his original words. This is It's an isolated paragraph in the book with no further story than just these few lines. In respect to the latest events in my life I just a felt compelled to share this here in my blog to turn it a bit more autobiographical. I relate to this depiction of longing for someone who is gone and that we have to stand and fall with our own compromise to their absence/presence.

With this I'm also introducing a new topic in my blog: literature. Let's hope I'll be able to broaden the theme since I'm quite lazy when it comes to reading books. I do enjoy it, I just never get to it. But I need to improve my German with a more formal vocabulary so I'll be reading non-stop from now on.