and yet i feel as though i could have watched it forever and had no expectation. this makes me a little happy with myself. i should watch this.
and too, it does something surprising for me. it tells me to look at my life. did you know i began as woman in a window? do you know how important windows have been to me? did you know that once i fell in love with a man who dared to be still enough to watch frost on a window? so many more stories. (there were doors, too, and there are new doors now.) i am startled actually in this moment. this is what the drop has done. it has brought me home to my own stories. i shake my head. i don't understand how this world works but i am overwhelmed with its intricacies.
thank you for this video. it is important in the way a window is important, in the way that it is important for us to slow down enough to consider these things and their incredible resonance.
On sun-blistered mornings, when she sat supinely on the satin divan, and expectantly looked askance at the pallor of gelid glass engaging sultry air in dull conversation, in an atmosphere befitting of one of Flaubert's heroines, one could notice the delayed tears running down her ivory-pale cheeks and parodied on the hazy gauze of the window.
Michael, to tell you the truth i helped a bit with the timing, since the little drop had begun its journey far higher, as it can be clearly seen on the window pane, and i had patiently filmed everything, even long moments of perfect stillness where one would have thought that the drop had abandoned its course - but i thought that 5 minutes like this would be excruciating to any hypothetical public :-)
erin, dear erin, you have no idea what your words mean to me, what they have brought me here... for this, i can only say that i am deeply grateful (if the words could really convey the feeling!), and also: i can't stop wondering that such an affinity between souls can really exist, and that it can be revealed over the simple workings of little drop on a window pane.
yes, it had become apparent to me that you were the woman in a window, i used to read all your comments on Tree's blog, in the past! at some point you left a comment on an older Bridge-post, an audio-experiment of mine on the topic of multiple selves - and i don't know why you left it as the 'woman in a window' - then i realized that, to my utter amazement (but, paradoxically, it was also an aha-moment, an instant recognition without any element of surprise, as if this were the natural, and only possible, course of things!)
that you fell in love with a man because he could be so still as to contemplate the frost on a window doesn't surprise me either, i could have imagined you like this. in fact, i did.
Prospero, what you wrote here could have been indeed be found in a Nabokov-novel, and if not, he missed the chance to write a wonderful passage :-) on a more personal note, though, i am still struggling with the comparison, even distant, to a Flaubert heroine, god forbid! :-)
amazing. that little drop is a fine actor with impeccable timing.
ReplyDeleteit did it! i was so surprised at the end!
ReplyDelete(i laugh at what pensum says and its truth.)
and yet i feel as though i could have watched it forever and had no expectation. this makes me a little happy with myself. i should watch this.
and too, it does something surprising for me. it tells me to look at my life. did you know i began as woman in a window? do you know how important windows have been to me? did you know that once i fell in love with a man who dared to be still enough to watch frost on a window? so many more stories. (there were doors, too, and there are new doors now.) i am startled actually in this moment. this is what the drop has done. it has brought me home to my own stories. i shake my head. i don't understand how this world works but i am overwhelmed with its intricacies.
thank you for this video. it is important in the way a window is important, in the way that it is important for us to slow down enough to consider these things and their incredible resonance.
xo
erin
On sun-blistered mornings, when she sat supinely on the satin divan, and expectantly looked askance at the pallor of gelid glass engaging sultry air in dull conversation, in an atmosphere befitting of one of Flaubert's heroines, one could notice the delayed tears running down her ivory-pale cheeks and parodied on the hazy gauze of the window.
ReplyDeleteah c'est magnifique belle Roxana, c'est le matin qui fond
ReplyDeletebises
Michael, to tell you the truth i helped a bit with the timing, since the little drop had begun its journey far higher, as it can be clearly seen on the window pane, and i had patiently filmed everything, even long moments of perfect stillness where one would have thought that the drop had abandoned its course - but i thought that 5 minutes like this would be excruciating to any hypothetical public :-)
ReplyDeleteerin, dear erin,
ReplyDeleteyou have no idea what your words mean to me, what they have brought me here... for this, i can only say that i am deeply grateful (if the words could really convey the feeling!), and also: i can't stop wondering that such an affinity between souls can really exist, and that it can be revealed over the simple workings of little drop on a window pane.
yes, it had become apparent to me that you were the woman in a window, i used to read all your comments on Tree's blog, in the past! at some point you left a comment on an older Bridge-post, an audio-experiment of mine on the topic of multiple selves - and i don't know why you left it as the 'woman in a window' - then i realized that, to my utter amazement (but, paradoxically, it was also an aha-moment, an instant recognition without any element of surprise, as if this were the natural, and only possible, course of things!)
that you fell in love with a man because he could be so still as to contemplate the frost on a window doesn't surprise me either, i could have imagined you like this. in fact, i did.
Prospero, what you wrote here could have been indeed be found in a Nabokov-novel, and if not, he missed the chance to write a wonderful passage :-)
ReplyDeleteon a more personal note, though, i am still struggling with the comparison, even distant, to a Flaubert heroine, god forbid! :-)
Madeleine, this openness to flowing, to the idea of dissolving, i find this essential - well it is, to me. i would write a hymn to free-flowing :-)
ReplyDelete