Islander, by Loré Pemberton
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‘Everyone stands alone at the heart of the world, pierced by a ray of sunlight, and suddenly it’s evening.’
— Salvatore Quasimodo, from "Ed è subito sera" in Ed è subito sera (and suddenly it is evening) (1942 by Mondadori) (via Alive on All Channels)
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Toby Coulson, The Joy of Ecploration
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Surname Viêt Given Name Nam (Trịnh T. Minh-hà | 1989)
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Copy of FENÊTRE D'UN ANCIEN COUVENT
à Barcelone
(Victor Petit)
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The Analysis of Beauty plate 1
William Hogarth
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Robert Smithson: The Collected Writings
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/To ground is to philosophize. To think up [something] [erdenken] is to poeticize. To think over [bedenken] and to consider [betrachten] is the same thing. Sensing/pure thinking is a mere concept - a generic concept. But genus is nothing apart from the individual. Thus one always thinks in a particular way: one grounds, one invents, etc./
Fichte Studies (Novalis)
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According to Baudelaire's experience, autumn is the true ground of creative genius. The great poet is, as it were, a creature of autumn. "L'Ennemi," "Le Soleil."
The Writer of Modern Life: Essays on Charles Baudelaire by Walter Benjamin
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Sept, 2023
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Rotterdam-Europoort
Joris Ivens, 1966
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August, 2022
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Romeo and Juliet, 1896, Mikhail Vrubel
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Pieta, 1887, Mikhail Vrubel
Medium: wash,watercolor,paper
https://www.wikiart.org/en/mikhail-vrubel/piet-1887
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“I have long been fascinated by how people understand themselves using landscape, by the topographies of self we carry within us and by the maps we make with which to navigate these interior terrains. We think in metaphors drawn from place and sometimes those metaphors do not only adorn our thought, but actively produce it.”
“We are adept, if occasionally embarrassed, at saying what we make of places — but we are far less good at saying what place makes of us. For some time now it has seemed to me that the two questions we should ask of any strong landscape are these: firstly, what do I know when I am in this place that I can know nowhere else? And then, vainly, what does this place know of me that I cannot know of myself?”
–Robert MacFarlane, The Old Ways: A Journey on Foot
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