Jul 8, 2008

Time. Memory. Straub. And Huillet.

The boy was too young and did not have patience, or was too lazy to research what happened that day on Europe.

There were only a few images passing by, ideas out of context, two shots, two travelings seeking for something hidden, and ages of time between them. In the end, words taken out from a sort of a modern pamphlet, like if this world was an ancient one. And it is.
Like ever before World was longing for an inner subtle change, an instant pleasure, one that shook his soul until he found out it always was his.
Never before Art worried about the state of the world. But Art is an exception. And this step too. A false step. To an unknown place. Now, a place near Paris, without name, forsaken. A reality redeemed by this small time. A breath of air. The hidden place between two shots,

Every youngster needs a lesson:

The Ancient Was Now.
These new Ages,
are only Ages without Memory.



para los vagos:

David Flórez said...

For your information...

I feel honored for belonging to your "sublime" blogs.

Welcome to the blogsphere, and be ready to write apparently for nobody.

As I said once, a blog is like speaking while walking by the street, somehow expecting that total strangers will join the monologue.

Andy Rector said...

Lovely (and true) post! You wrote the epigram (The Ancient Was Now...)?


Yes, I was.