La Haine/L'amour
29/Abril
C'est l'histoire d'un homme qui tombe d'un immeuble de 50 étages, le mec au fur et à mesure de sa chute il répète sans cesse pour se rassurer, "jusqu'ici tout va bien, jusqu'ici tout va bien...", mais l'important c'est pas la chute, c'est l'atterrissage.
"..there is no richer territory for students of human psychology than that of the morning after. But Chloe had other priorities upon stumbling out of sleep: she had gone to wash her hair in the bathroom next door and i awoke to hear the sound of water crashing on tiles. I remained in bed, encasing myself in the shape and smell of her body that lingered in the sheets. It was Saturday morning and the first rays of the December sun were piercing through the curtains. I surveyed the room in privacy, the gover as voyeur, the lover as the anthropologist of the beloved, enchanted by her every cultural manifestation. It was a privilige to be curled up in her inner sanctum, in her bed, her sheets, looking at the objects that made up her daily life, at the walls she woke to every morning, at her alarm clock, a packet of aspirins, her watch and earring on her bedside table. Love manifested itself as interest, fascination for everything Chloe owned, for the material signs of a life i had yet to discover but that seemed infinately rich full of the wonder that the everyday takes in the hands of the extaordinary. There was a bright yellow radio in one corner, a print by Matisse was leaning against a chair, her clothes from the night before were hanging in the closet by the mirror. On the chest of drawers there was a pile of paperbacks, next to it, her handbag and keys, a bottle of mineral water, and Guppy the elephant. By a form of cathexis, i fell in love with everything she owned, it all seemed so perfect,tasteful, different from what one could buy in shops (though i had seen the same radio recently on Oxford street.) The objects became fetishized, both dispaced symbol and erotic substitute .. "
AdeB
C'est l'histoire d'un homme qui tombe d'un immeuble de 50 étages, le mec au fur et à mesure de sa chute il répète sans cesse pour se rassurer, "jusqu'ici tout va bien, jusqu'ici tout va bien...", mais l'important c'est pas la chute, c'est l'atterrissage.
"..there is no richer territory for students of human psychology than that of the morning after. But Chloe had other priorities upon stumbling out of sleep: she had gone to wash her hair in the bathroom next door and i awoke to hear the sound of water crashing on tiles. I remained in bed, encasing myself in the shape and smell of her body that lingered in the sheets. It was Saturday morning and the first rays of the December sun were piercing through the curtains. I surveyed the room in privacy, the gover as voyeur, the lover as the anthropologist of the beloved, enchanted by her every cultural manifestation. It was a privilige to be curled up in her inner sanctum, in her bed, her sheets, looking at the objects that made up her daily life, at the walls she woke to every morning, at her alarm clock, a packet of aspirins, her watch and earring on her bedside table. Love manifested itself as interest, fascination for everything Chloe owned, for the material signs of a life i had yet to discover but that seemed infinately rich full of the wonder that the everyday takes in the hands of the extaordinary. There was a bright yellow radio in one corner, a print by Matisse was leaning against a chair, her clothes from the night before were hanging in the closet by the mirror. On the chest of drawers there was a pile of paperbacks, next to it, her handbag and keys, a bottle of mineral water, and Guppy the elephant. By a form of cathexis, i fell in love with everything she owned, it all seemed so perfect,tasteful, different from what one could buy in shops (though i had seen the same radio recently on Oxford street.) The objects became fetishized, both dispaced symbol and erotic substitute .. "
AdeB
posted by Ubiquarian at 04:01
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