Skip navigation.

exploreopera

| Help

Sign up | Help

*My Book Of Days*

Ó lá go lá, mo thuras, An bealach fada romham. Ó oiche go hoiche, mo thuras, na scéalta nach mbeidh a choích'.

All those things that will survive us.

This morning I was reading a post by Leonard (avl_wamp) who was given a very old guitar, a beauty that is more than a century old and which he is restoring, and several thoughts came to my mind. That guitar was from an old lady who had won a contest with it being a teenager. And knowing how much avl_wamp liked music, she gave it to him as a present. A gift, to put it better.
And then I told him how these kind of things go through generation from generation joining the lives of people in an endless string along the centuries or even the milleniums. Feelings, emotions, thoughts, gather in an unique object, which is then enriched by the dreams and illusions of the new owner. It´s the positive power of human soul, seeking for a path to survive along the uncertainty of time.
And I remember a movie I saw long time ago, "The family", by the Italian director Ettore Scola and an excellent performance of the French actress Fanny Ardant. It´s the story of a family through the years and generations and how some things and objects are regarded as family treasures and icons along the decades, as symbols of the family´s history and values. And there you can realize how certain things in our own lives keep also a part of ourselves, in a way that when we give it as it happened with this guitar, we´re giving a litlle bit of our own soul with it. Fortunately, I´d say.


We are the time. We are the famous


We are the time. We are the famous
metaphor from Heraclitus the Obscure.

We are the water, not the hard diamond,
the one that is lost, not the one that stands still.

We are the river and we are that greek
that looks himself into the river. His reflection
changes into the waters of the changing mirror,
into the crystal that changes like the fire.

We are the vain predetermined river,
in his travel to his sea.

The shadows have surrounded him.
Everything said goodbye to us, everything goes away.

Memory does not stamp his own coin.

However, there is something that stays
however, there is something that bemoans.

Jorge Luis Borges

My Rock Opera tatoo's still alive!Historia de la belleza.

Comments

avatar
Yo quiero poder elegir qué es lo que sobrevivirá de mi cuando yo no esté...

By diegososa, # 25. February 2008, 05:37:01

avatar
Interesante. También los otros eligen por qué recordarnos a veces. Por otro lado, me calienta pensar que un montòn de porquerìas que tengo y que he comprado siguiendo irracionales impulsos consumistas van a durar màs que yo! Mmm... creo que los harè pelota antes de irme jeje.

By Gothic.O, # 25. February 2008, 08:02:27

Write a comment

You must be logged in to write a comment. if you're not a registered member, please sign up.