nytt sitat

eg har holdt på med denne boka i sikkert to år no, uten å bli ferdig. men det er ikkje så nøye, for eg hugsar som ein elefant, og boka er ikkje sånn at du treng lese videre akkurat der og då. den er meir sånn som ein tek fram av og til, og den er som snop i øyrene. det er ei nydelig nydelig bok, og med så mange perfekte setningar at orda betyr meir enn handlinga. eg likar sånne bøker. Den handlar om ulike menneske sin oppleving av New York, og heiter Winter's Tale av Mark Helprin.

Hardesty knew right off that an unforseen force was
breathing under all the gray, that the events and miracles of the city were
simply the effect of this force as it turned in its sleep, that it saturated
everything, and that it had sculpted the city before it had even opened its eyes.
He felt it striving in everything he saw, and knew that the entire population,
though prideful of its independence, was subject to a complete and intense
orchestration the likes of which he had never imagined. They rushed about here
and there, venting their passions - struggling, kicking, and shuddering like
marionettes. Ten minutes after he left the station, he saw a taxi driver kill a
peddler in an argument over who had the right of way on an empty street.

He wanted no part of this city. It was too gray, cold, and
dangerous. It was perhaps the grayest, coldest, most dangerous city in the
world. He understood why young people from all over came to pit themselves
against it. But he was too old for such things, and he had already been to
war.

Winter's Tale, s. 315-316

mourners of st. paul - liam frost

ein sang som e så fin at eg får vondt i hjertet.

This was only a dream. But the next day, upon her awakening, the elements of the dream fell into place exactly. Even the words spoken were the same. She had seen in her sleep the details of rooms in which she had never been, and known weather that had not yet formed, and streets upon which she had never walked. (...)

She believed that the city was so full of combinations, permutations, and possibilities that it permitted not only any desire to be fulfilled, but any course to be taken, any reward to be sought, any life to be lived, and any race to be run. She closed her eyes and saw the city burning before her in enticing gold. The sky, filled with great voluminous clouds, was ablaze in winter blue.

Fra Winter's Tale av Mark Helprin, side 262 for å være eksakt... <3

morgenrutinar

eg er egentlig ein morgenperson. så lenge eg kan sove så lenge eg vil, og ikkje skal på jobb med ein gang ;)

min perfekte morgen er omtrent sånn:

*kose/nusse/klemme
*kaffi
*facebook
*hjartesmil
*icanhascheeze
*tv i bakgrunn
*frukost: skive med speilegg på
*tenke på ke eg har lyst på til middag i dag, og komme på nåkke genialt
*snakke på msn
*utsette det som egentlig skal gjerast LITT lenger

enkelt og greit :)

eit dikt

BARE

Hun lærte seg å stå på hodet
marinere kyllinglår og
innrede loftsrom
helt til han en dag sa
kan vi ikke bare stå
helt stille
og smile til hverandre?

Ingri Egeberg <3

rerun

"When she had an idea, when she believed something, she wouldn't let go of it. And still - she was as fragile as her own butterflies, an artist who feels things deeply.
To be sensitive is fine, but it makes day-to-day living - life - rather painful, I'd imagine.
I used to joke that when someone cut down a tree in the Brazilian Amazon, or stepped on a fire ant, or when a sparrow flew smack into a sliding glass door, it hurt her."


Frå boka "Special topics in calamity physics" av Marisha Pessl.



"She's highly emotional that one".
Becca Moody.

;)

viss det va ein måte og sei det på, så ville eg sagt det!