Friday 30 August 2019













  • A bird comes often and sits
    on the cold window sill.
    Sitting on the outside
    it keeps looking in
    as if to say, " I can see through you;
    see your colors!"
    And so long as it sits there, I keep away from the window.
    because I know
    how it is with the birds in snow.
    I wonder if I open the window
    will the bird come in or fly away
    back to the sky in the winter gray.

    4d
  • Between the sips of the coffee in hand
    and reading the words blurred by the vapors on the screen
    the mind often wanders too far.
    It connects with a world with its own autonomy
    and comes back to reconnect with the world of words.
    How is that for widening the reading's horizon?
    Up and down,
    dark and brown,
    just like the coffee in my hand.



  • Souheil Ghammachi
    Public
    Feb 13, 2018
    But I’m on the outside
    I’m looking in
    I can see through you
    See your true colors...
    Photo


  • Souheil Ghammachi
    Public
    Feb 13, 2018
    But I’m on the outside
    I’m looking in
    I can see through you
    See your true colors...
    Photo


    • Posted by at No comments:
    Oct 21, 2017
    There is a reason
    why we often come to the sea
    offseason
    to feel the breeze,
    to gather the feelings that have no cause,
    the feelings that have been there, for no reason.
    We gather them suddenly one fine morning,
    put them in a bottle without a name
    to let them float out there with the tide,
    a nameless child
    out to create its own life.

    By Sushama Karnik
    Oct 21, 2017
    Photo
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    In The War torn Days

    Jun 12, 2016
    In war-torn days they met
    when they did not know
    what to do with life
    which brought such love they could neither  take nor hide
    Her youth going to seed,
    eyes bulging with sleeplessness,
    and her hands...
    instead of let them hang by her side
    she gathered them and held close.
    "One day i will come," said he,
    "with heaps of currency notes
    and a dream-boat; wait for me."
    And she said okay.
    Years went by and one day she died.
    They put her in the coffin,
    her hands held close,
    one upon the other
    as on the day she mutely said,
    "Okay, I shall wait."
    anu x originally shared to Art:
    Oskar Kokoschka
    Martha Hirsch (1909)

    Oskar Kokoschka 1886-1980

    Expressionist painter, draughtsman and lithographer of portraits, landscapes and figure subjects; author of several plays and other writings. Born at Pöchlarn, Austria, of Czech and Austrian parentage. Studied at the Vienna School of Arts and Crafts 1905-9. His early paintings and plays aroused intense antagonism, but he was befriended by Adolf Loos, with whose help he received his first commissions for portraits; also contributed drawings to the Berlin periodical Der Sturm. First one-man exhibition at the Galerie Paul Cassirer, Berlin, 1910. Badly wounded in 1915 serving on the Eastern Front. Moved in 1917 to Dresden and taught at the Dresden Academy 1919-24. From 1924 period of travel in Europe and North Africa; series of views of great European cities. After the rise of the Nazis, whom he always outspokenly opposed, he moved in 1934 to Prague, then in 1938 to England. Became a British subject in 1947. From 1953 lived mainly at Villeneuve in Switzerland. Ran a summer painting school, the Schule des Sehens (School of Seeing) at Salzburg 1953-63; designed sets and costumes for the theatre and the opera. His autobiography Mein Leben was published in 1971. Died in Montreux.

    Published in:
    Ronald Alley, Catalogue of the Tate Gallery's Collection of Modern Art other than Works by British Artists, Tate Gallery and Sotheby Parke-Bernet, London 1981, p.391

    ~ http://www.tate.org.uk/art/artists/oskar-kokoschka-1430

    . . . . .
    image from http://www.wikiart.org/en/oskar-kokoschka
    . . . . .
    #Art #OskarKokoschka
    . . . . .
    Posted by at No comments:

    Wednesday 28 August 2019

    Jul 11, 2017
    "We need space," he said to her.
    Look out of the window; see how bright the sand shines,
    see how the beach extends to the end of the sight.
    Let us give space to each other to watch and breathe.
    We need to give each other space.We need to watch the vast sea;
    we need to watch in the same direction,
    but not in the same way,
    let's give each other space
    to watch in our own way,
    our different ways."
    There was a pause. She agreed.
    Then one day she came to the window,
    the same window.
    The sand was white, the surf was white.
    On the distant edge,
    the sky was a dazzling white ocean.
    He had found his direction.
    Barefoot, carrying his shoes in his hands
    he walked away, unburdened.
    Each heavy footprint in the sand
    was the mark he left behind
    of the story of his struggle
    to reach the right place.

    Sushama Karnik

    +Souheil Ghammachi Thanks for this beautiful B/W image
    Image shared by Souheil Ghammachi
    Footprints are easy to follow but making them and
    getting to the right place is difficult. But it is worth
    the struggle. Make your own path. Be original.
    Photo
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