Bellissimo, bellissimo :)
Il Mondo, che bello.
Pumbiana pumbiana pumbiana pumbiana
November 10th, 2009Oren Lavie – Her Morning Elegance
October 29th, 2009Sun been down for days
A pretty flower in a vase
A slipper by the fireplace
A cello lying in it’s case
Soon she’s down the stairs
Her morning elegance she wears
The sound of water makes her dream
Awoken by a cloud of steam
She pours a daydream in a cup
A spoon of sugar sweetens up
And She fights for her life
As she puts on her coat
And she fights for her life on the train
She looks at the rain
As it pours
And she fights for her life
As she goes in a store
With a thought she has caught
By a thread
She pays for the bread
And She goes…
Nobody knows
Sun been down for days
A winter melody she plays
The thunder makes her contemplate
She hears a noise behind the gate
Perhaps a letter with a dove
Perhaps a stranger she could love
And She fights for her life
As she puts on her coat
And she fights for her life on the train
She looks at the rain
As it pours
And she fights for her life
As she goes in a store
With a thought she has caught
By a thread
She pays for the bread
And She goes…
Nobody knows
And She fights for her life
As she puts on her coat
And she fights for her life on the train
She looks at the rain
As it pours
And she fights for her life
Where people are pleasently strange
And counting the change
And She goes…
Nobody knows
[Oren Lavie - Her Morning Elegance]
Equilibrio
September 29th, 2009Non esiste il perfetto nel mondo cosiddetto reale, lo sappiamo. F = ma a parte per quei piccoli discostamenti che ci sono in ogni istanza fisica reale.
Ma allora come è possible l’equilibrio?
È un mondo tragicomicamente imperfetto, sfuggevole alle leggi pettinate della matematica filosofica imperante in biblioteca (wow la ho scritta davvero io?)
Nonstante ciò ci sono trottole che si reggono sulla punta, persone che trovano un equilibrio interiore, edifici che si reggono in piedi.
Gli equilibri teorici sono frutto di una forte equivalenza di forze contrapposte, o dall’assenza di queste.
Gli equilibri pratici, veri, la gioia, la morte, l’amore e le uova messe sulla punta più stretta su un piano inclinato, sono il frutto di una complessa e molto disordinata non equivalenza di imperfezioni, che passando dalla porta sul retro arrivano comunque qll’equilibrio, quello vero.
L’equilibrio, quello vero, è figlio di una sporca lotta tra imperfezioni che non si rosolve.
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giobi.com
