This one is for Srebrenica.
The National Library of Bosnia and Herzegovina, Sarajevo.
1.5 million volumes and over 155,000 rare books were completely destroyed in 1992, during the Siege of Sarajevo.
Photographs are from a couple of years ago… There was an installation about the massacre at the Library in ruins; a timber boat full of old shoes and a portrait of him looking right into your eyes… And it was all very very quiet…
I was in Venice a couple of weeks ago, and came back with lots of photographs! While wandering around the streets, I saw a familiar face, a face I remember from my previous visit almost three years ago. He was waiting there with a bit more darkened face, but still looking very good.
•
Oh! you understand
that if I consent
to live — to seem
to forget you —
it is to
feed my pain
— and so that this apparent
forgetfulness
can spring forth more
horribly in tears, at
…
some random
moment, in
the middle of this
life, when you
appear to me.
•
from A Tomb For Anatole, Stéphane Mallarmé
“Let’s go.”
“We can’t.”
“Why not ?”
“We’re waiting for Godot.”
•
Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot
One of my favourite spots in London, the ruins of St Dunstan in the East, used to be a church, built in the 12th. century and was bombed during the Second World War. The atmospheric ruins and gardens of St Dunstan are so full of peace and silence, I can’t help visiting this place whenever I am in London. Although being just at the heart of the busy City of London, in between the London Bridge and the Tower of London, the tranquility and the quietness of this place fascinates me. The moss on the walls, freely growing ivies, old tombstones, lacy windows, the decayed, the worn-out…
Hidden between the office blocks, St Dunstan is the perfect secret garden that won’t reveal itself unless you look for it. And this is the reason of my love for it.
The remains of the minaret of the historic Pocitelj Mosque
Not quite close to yellow, definitely not red; warm enough but serene at the same time. Orange is hope, in a strange way reminding me of Van Gogh. But of course his orange was also a lot of other things.
Photographs are from Verona. This city has the perfect tones of orange all around.
