Βράδυ. Ένα μικρό φως ταλαντεύεται για λίγο στο σκοτάδι. Κύματα οι διαβάτες στην προκυμαία. Σε λίγο η πανσέληνος διαχέεται στην ακροθαλασσιά. Γυμνή νυκτωδία σωπαίνει τη πλάση. Σα φιλί άλλης εποχής. Σιωπηλό, έντιμο, βέβαιο για τη δύναμή του. Άξαφνα, ένα ανθρώπινο χέρι γράφει :

Παρασκευή, 1 Φεβρουαρίου 2019

The naked look of writing


All stories are realized in places uninvited, endless. The writer starts from the intimate immensity, the embarrassment of thought to incarnate word.
And time is always the elusive light of silence. So, writing somebody realizes the path to the lack of love.
This is, of course, a recurring creation. In particular, it is thought that hatched, the words that follow, the words that mate, the words that escape from the open heart.
The look remains pinned, puzzled brief idea of chastity. The look once strays from his lips.
The look is nude. Words are naked. And then, suddenly, silence speaks, feels, experiences, negates promises, falls creates.
The whiteness of the paper succumbs to excess, indulging in stroke.
The text breaks, soul stirred. Nothing resists, cast all joints on the edge of reason.
People internalize without secrets. Like love, like the original silence as the austere beauty before experiencing loneliness east infuser infinity of thoughts.
Then the silence is the end, the naked, the unprotected eyes of writing.
It happens. A text with authentic life immensity, a text that extends till the sunrise of a barefoot wandering. Text stutters the gross shape of the importance of the initial words. Text of writing that writes happening, an act of the writer who writes his lips and announces his desire to light another verbal creation.
On the verge of life, at the turn of the light at the intersection of writing passion waves life grows occult and steep edge of thought which flows at the foot of the narrative, on the outskirts of a poetic verses test for the first time in the world smiling.
Then the new writing is always a new text with unripe lips, naked in the writer’s eyes and naked at the first innocent look towards the darkness of the birth of art.
And there is no time no space. The components of the text still remain to be discovered, everything to win, such as the blue vastness of emotion.
For no apparent reason wearable light eyes, writing activates the process of reading and then the lonely process of imagination.
The naked gaze falls on the sense that the other authority and ultimately brings another life.

Yannis Politopoulos

7 σχόλια:

  1. To be a writer I think that everyone can. You need the imagination to do it. Maybe it is sometimes too big, because there are problems to choose. :)

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  2. Lieber Yannis,
    ein ganz großer Text, genau so sehe ich es auch. Danke für deine so offenen und guten Gedanken.

    Mit herzlichen Grüßen
    Rachel

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  3. I wish I could understand better great text. It is so marvelous. Your figure of speech are very excellent.
    You know I like very much words too.

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  4. imagination, quiet time and patience. I find that I write when I have those three ingredients working for me. Walking gives me some quiet time to think.
    I enjoy your writing, it's very good and a joy to read. I also enjoy the comments you leave on my blog. Thanks Yannis!

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  5. Writing is a very special talent - great words really come to life.

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  6. So well seen, Yannis!
    __ Naked words are hidden by an author's cloth; readers search through that weave, and find that depth within each writer's sphere. _m

    the naked word
    hides within this cloths weave
    imagined wind

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