2/3+1/3 ” the boy with frog saga ends “

by experienceofthinking
venice 2013
in the winter 2013 i have taken the picture of boy with frog encapsulated in a glass box, you see the poor boy in the rain at the end of punta alla dogana, the next picture is taken in summer 2013 and you see the street lamp that replaces the boy, the last picture is campo santa margherita (and i dont know why i post , anyway life goes on anyway) where the fishdealer are working as usual etc. etc.

 

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i ask to you dear aficionados, please do not divulgate thi(e)s(e) picture(s) outside the experienceofthinking

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friday june 16 2017

 

ernest hemingway ” cat in the rain ” illustrated by rinaldo rasa

by experienceofthinking

A man in a rubber cape was crossing the empty square to the café. The cat would be around to the right. Perhepas she could go along under the eaves. As she stood in the doorway an umbrella opened behind her. It was the maid who looked after their room.

‘You must not get wet,’ she smiled, speaking Italian. Of course, the hotel-keeper had sent her.

With the maid holding the umbrella over her, she walked along the gravel path until she was under their window. The table was there, washed bright green in the rain, but the cat was gone. She was suddenly disappointed. The maid looked up at her.

‘Ha perduto qualque cosa, Signora?’

‘There was a cat,’ said the America girl.

‘A cat?’ the maid laughed. ‘A cat in the rain?’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘under the table.’ Then, ‘Oh, I wanted it so much, I wanted a kitty.’

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thursday june 15 2017

 

Ben Brecht “Sonnets to the Critics In Rebuttal”

by experienceofthinking

 

 

Good critics who reject my fairest song
And spatter my fine shirt with printer’s ink
I’d bellow bitterly you do me wrong
Were I not suffocated by your stink.
Imperfect am I, full of faults, I know;
And when I sing, a shade off key at times—
As who is not who rashly tries to blow
A pean from his lungs; but all my crimes
Ar amiable when matched beside tyour own—
You theatre moles with inattetive ears,
A cough and now and then a kidney stone,
Abristle with your dull but fearsome spears—
Who come to drama not to drink or sup
But more to shine your little egos up.

 

 

January 28, 1942

 

 

 

bertolt brecht, Journals (1938-1955)

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tuesday june 13 2017