STROLLOLOGY

strollology - promenadologie through randomness

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stop 

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baywatch, portugal

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Recently I came across an interesting story about  Lilith.

Before Adam and Eve there were Adam and Lilith. When God decided to create man, he created a single form out of clay, a Golem, a form without a form, a two backed figure. Then he split this figure in two thus creating Adam and Lilith. They were both created from the same material, from the same form, therefore they were entirely equal. After they breathed in life they were anxious to join again. Adam wanted to climb on top of Lilith but she refused. She asked why should you be on top when we are equal, am I not the same as you? Only your opposite. Adam tried to force himself on her but failed because being created equal they were also the same strength. Then realizing he cannot win he asked God for help.

God being male in this story, held Adam’s side and thought it was Adam’s right. Lilith rebelled and cursed God’s name, commiting then the ultimate sin. She became a she-devil and turned away from God, running away to live at the bottom of the sea. Some say  it is the Red Sea, still others claim she lives in the desert and prays on weak men and newborn children.

After this event took place Adam turned to God again and asked for a partner. But this time God knew he cannot create a total equal so he took Adam’s rib and created Eve. And then the story of the first man and woman as we remember it begins, leaving Lilith, the one who refused to sucum to patriarchal authority, to become a demon, an outcast and to wander around the deserts in our stories and mythologies.

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life is made out of triangles 

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Il est plus facile de mourir que d'aimer C'est pourquoi je me donne le mal de vivre Mon amour

Louis Aragon, from Elsa 

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Are you equally pessimistic about love? You are much more dependent on luck than you think. People say if you want to have a good relationship, you have to work at it. But you never hear it about anything you really like, about sailing or going to soccer games. You never say: I have to work at it. You just love it. You can’t work at a relationship; you can’t control it. You have to be lucky and go through your life. If you are not lucky you have to be prepared for some degree of suffering. That’s why most relationships are very difficult and have some degree of pain. People stay together because of inertia, they don’t have the energy. Because they are frightened of being lonely, or they have children.

The Talks, Interview with Woody Allen

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Petrova gora, Vojin Bakić

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Breakfast at Tiffany’s

"Never love a wild thing, Mr. Bell," Holly advised him. "That was Doc's mistake. He was always lugging home wild things. A hawk with a hurt wing. One time it was a fullgrown bobcat with a broken leg. But you can't give your heart to a wild thing: the more you do, the stronger they get. Until they're strong enough to run into the woods. Or fly into a tree. Then a taller tree. Then the sky. That's how you'll end up, Mr. Bell. If you let yourself love a wild thing. You'll end up looking at the sky."

Truman Capote

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Begin with an individual, and before you know it you find you have created a type. Begin with a type, and you find you have created - nothing. That is because we are all queer fish.

F. Scott Fitzgerald 

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znaš li što se dogodilo istini? umrla je ne našavši muža 

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Ti ni zamisliti ne možeš kako iznenada mogu završiti neki kolovozi kad udare o kakav preuranjeni rujan, kao automobil kad se zabije u drvo, presaviju se, omlohave kao harmonika kad gubi dah. 

Toliko je obijesti za onih žega o Velikoj Gospi ili kad o svetom Lovri noćno nebo zasvjetli vatrometom i sva se čula čine tako puna, a život je pećina beskrajno visokih svodova, a onda dođu dvije - tri kapi kiše, samo prelete kao korijandol, i jedan dan proguta taj bujan i kićen mjesec

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around the corner 

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Duhovita je izjava francuskog slikara Françoisa Moreletta o Kniferu. Rekao je supruzi: upoznao sam sjajnog slikara koji slika – radijatore.

Ana Knifer, intervju

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sitting in a family housing 

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Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness John Keats