Tag: helmut newton

Love without truth is sentimentality;

it supports and affirms us

but keeps us in denial about our flaws.

Truth without love is harshness;

it gives us information but in such a way

that we cannot really hear it.

– Timothy J. Keller –

Ph : Helmut Newton

“If freckles were lovely, and day was night,

and measles were nice and a lie wasn’t a lie,

life would be delight,–

But things couldn’t go right

for in such a sad plight

I wouldn’t be I.

If earth was heaven and now was hence,

and past was present, and false was true,

there might be some sense

but I’d be in suspense

for on such a pretense

you wouldn’t be you.

If fear was plucky, and globes were square,

and dirt was cleanly and tears were glee

things would seem fair,–

yet they’d all despair,

for if here was there

we wouldn’t be we.

– E.E. Cummings – ’ if ’

Ph : Helmut Newton

Perhaps the greatest faculty our minds possess is the ability to cope with pain. Classic thinking teaches us of the four doors of the mind, which everyone moves through according to their need.

First is the door of sleep. Sleep offers us a retreat from the world and all its pain. Sleep marks passing time, giving us distance from the things that have hurt us. When a person is wounded they will often fall unconscious. Similarly, someone who hears traumatic news will often swoon or faint. This is the mind’s way of protecting itself from pain by stepping through the first door.

Second is the door of forgetting. Some wounds are too deep to heal, or too deep to heal quickly. In addition, many memories are simply painful, and there is no healing to be done. The saying ‘time heals all wounds’ is false. Time heals most wounds. The rest are hidden behind this door.

Third is the door of madness. There are times when the mind is dealt such a blow it hides itself in insanity. While this may not seem beneficial, it is. There are times when reality is nothing but pain, and to escape that pain the mind must leave reality behind.

Last is the door of death. The final resort. Nothing can hurt us after we are dead, or so we have been told.

– Patrick Rothfuss – The Name of the Wind

Ph : Helmut Newton

A successful song comes to sing itself inside the listener. It is cellular and seismic, a wave coalescing in the mind and in the flesh. There is a message outside and a message inside, and those messages are the same, like the pat and thud of two heartbeats, one within you, one surrounding. The message of the lullaby is that it’s okay to dim the eyes for a time, to lose sight of yourself as you sleep … if you drift, it says, you’ll drift ashore: if you fall, you will fall into place.

– Kevin Brockmeier –

Ph : Helmut Newton

Between hell and the sky,

galloping between darkness

of the periphery to the center

of the center to the periphery,

the subway.

With sleepy eyes comes

across the dawn;

He will return at midnight

with the weary soul,

the meter.

Loading up and down

intimate strangers,

sunrises and sunsets

towards oblivion.

Through his arteries runs

hasty humanity,

the food that fattens

the city.

They look at each other

from the distance, touch,

smell, avoid,

ignore, touch each other;

And in the rattle

Of the hypnotic wagon

each one who invents

the luck of the neighbor …

The beauty is allowed to

look while looking at

the nothing that passes

through the window.

Distant

crystal rock horizon ,

alien and silent

I only see her:

the beautiful,

the beautiful that does not see me.

– Joan Manuel Serrat – The beautiful and the subway

Ph : Helmut Newton

Freedom is to stand naked at the moment, having no expectations, nothing to lose or to gain. The empty then is fulfilled, just to be emptied again at the next moment. The Absolute Freedom is, to become every path, at any given moment.
– Grigoris Deoudis –
Ph : Helmut Newton

I have forgotten your face, I no longer
Remember your hands; how did your lips
Feel on mine?

Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to
My vague memory of you. I live with pain
That is like a wound; if you touch me, you will
Make to me an irreperable harm.

Your caresses enfold me, like climbing
Vines on melancholy walls.

I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to
Glimpse you in every window.

Because of you, the heady perfumes of
Summer pain me; because of you, I again
Seek out the signs that precipitate desires:
Shooting stars, falling objects.
– Pablo Neruda –
Ph : Helmut Newton