“You live wherever you live, you do whatever work you do, you talk however you talk, you eat whatever you eat, you wear whatever clothes you wear, you look at whatever images you see… YOU’RE LIVING HOWEVER YOU CAN. YOU ARE WHOEVER YOU ARE “Identity” … of a person, of a thing, of a place. “Identity”. The word itself gives me shivers. It rings of calm, comfort, contentedness. What is it, identity? To know where you belong? To know your self worth? To know who you are? How do you recognise identity? We are creating an image of ourselves, We are attempting to resemble this image… Is that what we call identity? The accord between the image we have created of ourselves and … ourselves? Just who is that, “ourselves”? We live in the cities. The cities live in us … time passes. We move from one city to another, from on country to another. We change languages, we change habits, we change opinions, we change clothes, we change everything. Everything changes, And fast. Images above all… change faster and faster and they have been multiplying at a hellish rate ever since the explosion that unleashed the electronic images. They are the images that are now replacing photography. We have learned to trust the photographic image. Can we trust the electronic image? With painting everything was simple. The original was the original, and each copy was a copy – a forgery. With photography and then film that began to get complicated. The original was a negative. Without a print, it did not exist, just the opposite, each copy was the original. But now with the electronic, and soon the digital, there is no more negative and no more positive. The very notion of the original is obsolete. Everything is a copy. All distinctions have become arbitrary. No wonder the idea of identity finds itself in such a feeble state. Identity is out, out of fashion. Exactly. Then what is in vogue, if not fashion itself? By definition, fashion is always in. Identity and fashion, are the two contradictory?”“
“Facts do not cease to exist because they are ignored.” — Aldous Huxley
musica triste, sei tu dentro di me
Me lembro de quando era pequena e ia para a casa dos meus avós e passava de carro em frente a uma loja de lustres. Me encantava toda aquela iluminação e especialmente os neons em formatos bem anos 80. O que mais me confortava, entretanto, eram as vitrines de lojas de móveis que remontavam ambientes como os de uma casa. Meus preferidos eram as salas de estar. Eu me imaginava morando naquelas vitrines. É difícil explicar, mas eu gostava da paz que elas me representavam. Não sei dizer se era o vazio, a iluminação morna e amarelada ou ainda o completo silêncio daquelas lojas fechadas. Talvez os móveis novos, limpos e imaculados tivessem um certo poder de atração sobre mim (vontade de tê-los?) Acho que nunca entendi porque tinha esses sentimentos quando passava por lojas como essa (pensando bem, ainda lembro em detalhes dessa loja e dessa rua em específico), mas sei que tinha. Eu sempre queria morar ali. Ficar observando a vida por uma vitrine protegida e confortável sem sentir emoções e tristezas. Viver a vida como espectadora de outras vidas sem qualquer ameaça à minha paz vendida a varejo com 10% de desconto à vista.
It’s better to stay. Cut it up
Make it end - It starts, you say its useless
Just stick on the favours with different uses- Help me sink into this skin
Here comes the sun, more excuses - I’ve got things to feel, to reimburse yeah
Where do you think I got these bruises? I’m sick I’m alone and it’s getting worse.
The Naked and Famous
when i feel alive
i try to immagine a careless life
a scenic world where the sunsets are all
breathtaking
beirut
