Giorgio de Chirico, Melancholy of a beautiful day, 1913 Nostalgia never left my side throughout the journey it was right there by me even in the dark it wasn’t like my hands and feet for when one sleeps hands and feet are lost and I never lost nostalgia even when asleep Nostalgia never left my …
Tranquillo Cremona, The ivy, 1878- My rose, pupil of my eyes, I’m not afraid of dying – but dying annoys me – it’s a matter of self-love. Mia rosa, pupilla dei miei occhi, non ho paura di morire – ma morire mi secca, è una questione d’amor proprio. Go back to album – N. Hikmet
Ambrogio Alciati, The kiss, 1916 Se per i buoni uffici del signor Nuri spedizioniere la mia città, la mia Istanbul mi mandasse un cassone di cipresso, un cassone di sposa se io l’aprissi facendo risuonare la serratura di metallo: dccinnn … due rotoli di tela finissima due paia di camicie dei fazzoletti bianchi ricamati d’argento …
Marc Chagall, Les amoureux de Vence, 1957 Sotto la pioggia camminava la primavera con i suoi piedi esili e lunghi sull’asfalto di Mosca chiusa tra gli pneumatici i motori le stoffe le pelli il mio cardiogramma era pessimo quel giorno quel che si attende verrà in un’ora inattesa verrà tutto da solo senza condurre con …
Jean-Baptiste Regnault, Jupiter and Io, 1827 You are my slavery, you are my freedom, You are my flesh burning as the naked flesh of the summer nights. You are my home you, with green highlights of your eyes you, high and victorious. You are my nostalgia of knowing how inaccessible at the very moment when …
Rob Gonsalves, Aspiring acrobats, 2009 Plants, from silken soft to bushy branching ones animals from furry to scaly houses from rough hair-tents to concrete buildings machines from airplanes to electric shavers and also the seas and the water in a glass and the stars and the sleeping mountains and the human being mingled with everything …
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