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210 days ago
I went to have a walk at Bergianska trädgården after preparing the presentation materials. The cherries remind me of Yuyuantan in Beijing. The gardener happened to be there today and he had many good pictures as always. I am a fan of him now:) See here for his picture of Wisby. There will be a guided tour next Thursday.
211 days ago
“I didn’t have young, handsome men for admirers. I had unhappy creatures from loony bins. Crackpots who whispered they’d pray for me, who sent me long poems about God, about reincarnation. These chosen few with the mark on their foreheads have always been drawn to me and I to them.” "I have been a child, a girl, a party doll, a mistress, a wife, a mother, a professional woman, a virgin and a grandmother. I have been a woman for more than fifty years and yet I have never been able to discover precisely what it is I am, how real I am. I ask myself - perhaps my femaleness is just a human disease." -Mai Zetterling Mai started her career as an actress in Bergman's films ('The Torment' and 'Music in the Darkness'. The latter is my favorite Bergman film before 1950s). Later she abandoned acting and became a director. The only film directed by her I watched is 'Älskande Par' (which was translated into 相敬如宾 in Chinese...) I feel that she was somewhat influenced ...
212 days ago
Minne Stilla vill jag tacka mitt öde : aldrig jag mister dig helt. Som en pärla växer i musslan, så inom mig gror ditt daggiga väsen ljuvt. Om till sist en dag jag har glömt dig - då är du blod av mitt blod, då är du ett med mig - det gudarna give. Karin Boye - Moln, 1922
213 days ago
Quote YouTube - Amanda Berneblad - Ja visst gör det ont när knoppar brister
213 days ago
Spring comes to Stockholm in one night, which makes me think of this poem by Karin Boye. I was so surprised that our math teacher's father was once married to her...This is a small city anyhow. Quote YouTube - Karin Boye - Ja visst gör det ont (med Karin själv) Ja visst gör det ont när knoppar brister. Varför skulle annars våren tveka? Varför skulle all vår heta längtan bindas i det frusna bitterbleka? Höljet var ju knoppen hela vintern. Vad är det för nytt, som tär och spränger? Ja visst gör det ont när knoppar brister, ont för det som växer och det som stänger. Ja nog är det svårt när droppar faller. Skälvande av ängslan tungt de hänger, klamrar sig vid kvisten, sväller, glider - tyngden drar dem neråt, hur de klänger. Svårt att vara oviss, rädd och delad, svårt att känna djupet dra och kalla, ändå sitta kvar och bara darra - svårt att vilja stanna och vilja falla. Då, när det är ...
