House of Memories: Before

Amid post-doc application forms, nappies, books, playdoh marathons, and mountains of clothes stoically waiting to be ironed, in a house full of newly founded girly anima and childish exuberance, the thought that has been occupying the mind is another house: an empty house. A house full of memories of long summer holidays, of laughter and occasionally of tears. As it awaits its refurbishment, it very often sends messages-reminders through the Ionian Sea to come soon and occupy it again. This is its "before", or to be more accurate, its current state: dusty, decadent, in need of architectural TLC from its descendants. It is a house "interrupted" (as the late Derrida would have it). So, it will resume in all its glory. Shortly.

 

 

  

West Life

Scenes from the everyday life of the people of County Mayo in Ireland who lived more than a century ago, as seen in the Museum of Country Life. Looking at the woman with the dark veil, I recognize a very familiar portrait that I am going to share with you sometime in the future

  

Babogbaby meets BabogMoro

Το δώρο του Άγιου Βασίλη στη Φρέγια Ειρήνη: το αρκουδάκι που μιλάει την Ιρλανδική γλώσσα. Προσωπικό αγαπημένο κουμπί, αυτό που μας μαθαίνει να λέμε το εξάγωνο, "hexagon"! Εκτός από τις γλωσσικές ομοιότητες, το όνομά του συμπαθέστατου αρκουδακίου δεν θα μπορούσε να ταιριάζει με το μπλογκ μας πιο πολύ! Βρείτε το εδώ. 

Poetic Universes for little ones

       Beautiful tricycles brought back to life by les petits bohemes

Free association

                                                         Carlow, Ireland 2011

                                                   Kalloni, Tinos-Greece, 2010                                  

A Palestinian child holds a sheep in his family farm in eastern Gaza City. Gaza, Palestinian Territory. 24/11/2009.

Muslims worldwide are preparing for Eid al-Adha, or Feast of the Sacrifice, commemorating God's provision of a ram to substitute for Abraham's impending sacrifice of his son, where able Muslims offer an animal sacrifice during the feast rituals.

Counting Sheep by Russell Edson

A scientist has a test tube full of sheep. He
wonders if he should try to shrink a pasture
for them.
They are like grains of rice.
He wonders if it is possible to shrink something
out of existence.
He wonders if the sheep are aware of their tininess,
if they have any sense of scale. Perhaps they think
the test tube is a glass barn ...
He wonders what he should do with them; they
certainly have less meat and wool than ordinary
sheep. Has he reduced their commercial value?
He wonders if they could be used as a substitute
for rice, a sort of wolly rice . . .
He wonders if he shouldn't rub them into a red paste
between his fingers.
He wonders if they are breeding, or if any of them
have died.
He puts them under a microscope, and falls asleep
counting them . . .

LISBOA

To the person who passes through this place

You that pass and raise your arm to me
before you hurt me, look at me well.
I am the heat of your home in the cold winter nights.
I am the friendly shade that you find
when walking under the august sun
And my fruits are appetizing freshness
That satisfy your thirst on the way.
I am the friendly beam of your house, the board of your table
the bed in which you rest and the wood of your boat.
I am handle of your hoe, the door of your dwelling
the wood of your  cradle and of your own coffin.
I am the bread of goodness and the flower of beauty.
You that pass, look at me well and do no harm.

Veiga Simões, Arganil, Maio de 1914
Veiga Simões was a brilliant Portuguese politician, diplomat, writer and journalist.