“Freedom is the possibility of isolation. You are free if you can withdraw from people, not having to seek them out for the sake of money, company, love, glory or curiosity, none of which can thrive in silence and solitude. If you can’t live alone, you were born a slave.” Fernando Pessoa
My inspiration to create here is to intimately and emotionally share my poems, writings, experiences, insights, visual and textual drifts and tectonic motions, nomadic captures of space and frozen moments of time of my overheated initiation wanderings in solitude or fame, in sadness or glory, in love or detachment. Hence, I also wish to invite you to explore my dwellings and layered homeness thereto.
My first blog post draws on my journey to Santorini, because it deeply refers to my notion of freedom: in the heights of a volcanic rocks each morning brings taste of glory, rejuvenating oxygen, that tenderly opens and cherish my nose, makes me inhale the eternal Prana, as food for soul, the infinite grasp of the horizon, shifting beyond time and space, beyond any possible knowledge we might have; that is, purifying consciousness, deploying our inner self, nourishing the internal interzone dimension of mind: the liquid fire, the melting sky shapes, the burning sun, the blurred lines of the horizon, the hidden lights within the water.
In this place I felt the strength of the solitude and the freedom within, the powerful shimmering lights of the space I inhabit, the pureness of the inhalation at its best, the smooth tactile space, the vital palpitation and shining of Santorini blueness and whiteness.
Santorini is fully one of those places that help you reconnect yourself with your inner self. A place where you find what you have lost on your way. Once you go there, you never be the same-kinda of a place. Its strong cosmic energy remain forever imprinted in your soul.
A morning rich with silence: for breakfast I consume local cherry tomato impregnated with volcanic minerals, fig pastry and fresh squeezed oranges from the Crete island, on a tiny little balcony from my hotel room opposite the caldera; I realize, therefore, I am all that, nothing and everything, space and time, nonce, I deploy myself within the space I dwell and smell. Moments of bliss and irradiating joy.
Here a poem I wrote in French, called:
FIRE OF UNKNOWN ORIGIN
Déterminer les directions des veines
au delà du déchirement
Une vibration du serpent
Frappée contre le mur de la chambre droite
à crier les sécrètes de la peau blanche
une haute race
une autre groupe sanguine
trace l’aveuglement inférieur
au degré de l’invasion virale
C’est dans ce crime
– commis à cause d’une mauvaise lecture des lignes
et des organes létales
(ou vitales – ) –
sur ce carnaval
La révélation rebelle des fleurs
With love, truly yours,