nicola tesla
federico fellini
truman capote
audrey hepburn
seth godin
alber elbaz
carine roitfeld
sofia coppola
barack obama
jonathan safran foer
ellen von unwerth
elvis presley
albus dumbledore
kate moss
john lennon
tim walker
henri de toulouse-lautrec
natalie portman
oscar wilde
margot tenenbaum
mikhail baryshnikov
woody allen
wolfgang mozart
amelie poulain
edith piaf
natalia vodianova
bob dylan
tim burton
hayao miyazaki
f. scott fitzgerald
jürgen teller
hubert de givenchy
martin luther king
wendy bevan
marlon brando
isabella blow
bob marley
salvador dali
marlene dietrich
marie antoinette
coco chanel
stefan brüggemann
napoleon bonaparte
elsa fitzgerald
alfred hitchcock
mahatma gandhi
josef fares
charles baudelaire
goran bregovic
wes anderson
maira kalman
christian lacroix
vladimir nabakov
terry richardson
oskar schindler
john galliano
mark ryden
marilyn monroe
liv tyler
norman parkinson
betty blue
emir kusturica
vincent van gogh
mats gustafson
ingmar bergman
..want to put someone else on the guest list?
S-au imbracat ceturile in viu si pasi din cenusa aromata alearga pe descult inalt. Albastrul s-a aprins in lumanari din galben ars, impodobit crud pe buze curate. S-au desprins din mine florile de gheata si e placut, caci nu mai doare.
Noaptea e doar nisip, si clocot, si salbatic. Ger imbracat in paturi matasoase si cafele turnate in pahare ciobite. Felii de dulce imbibate in nectar de lapte. Ochi sub care se ascund zambete indraznete si fumuri pastelate. Si cald boem. Si tipat desenat. Si picioare ce se impletesc. Si gene sarutate. Si verde cules din roua diminetii, intre ferestre cu margini albe. Si degete obosite. Si flori desenate pe piele, ce miros a nerabdare si calm ametitor. Si plete sfidatoare. Si matase cu miros de parfum tipator. Si cuvinte incrusate. Si lumini clatite in culori vibrante. Si picuri de rosu molcom. Si sufletul ce s-a golit sa te primeasca. Si struguri moi, stransi intre dintii inclestati in viata.
Si noptile ce se amesteca sarate.
i often hear people say (and think myself) that they deserve something. but the question is - why do we deserve things at all? and compared to who? is this word just a relic from religion - a reminder of the categories hell/heaven? or is it a disguised form of presumption?
what we deserve in life is perhaps the same thing as what we expect of life?
and isn’t it kind of amazing to be alive at all, considering the odds?
