Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Der Himmel über Berlin

The Far East. The Great North. The Wild West. The Great Bear Lake. Tristan da Cunha. The Mississippi Delta. Stromboli. The old houses of Charlottenburg. Albert Camus. The morning light. The child's eyes. The swim in the waterfall. The spots of the first drops of rain. The sun. The bread and wine. Hopping. Easter. The veins of leaves. The blowing grass. The color of stones. The pebbles on the stream's bed. The white tablecloth outdoors. The dream of the house in the house. The dear one asleep in the next room. The peaceful Sundays. The horizon. The light from the room in the garden. The night flight. Riding a bicycle with no hands. The beautiful stranger. My father. My mother. My wife. My child. -Wings of Desire

For Kia

1 comment:

  1. The catalog resonates strongly with me because that's all I've gained in exchange for my expiring life. I give my minutes of breath and get only a catalog in return. A list of things seen and never possessed. The memories of knowing them always trump the pleasure of the things we own.