Freedom.

Albert Camus.

The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.

Albert Camus.

Journey.

I don’t know how many souls I have
I have changed at every moment.
I always feel like a stranger.
I have never seen or found myself.
From being so much, I have only soul.
A man who has soul has no calm.
A man who sees is just what he sees.
A man who feels is not who he is.

Attentive to what I am and see,
I become them and stop being I.
Each of my dreams and each desire
Belongs to whoever had it, not me.
I am my own landscape,
I watch myself journey-
Various, mobile and alone.
Here where I am I can’t feel myself.

That’s why I read as a stranger
my being as if it were pages.
Not knowing what will come
And forgetting what has passed.
A note in the margin of my reading,
Rereading, I wonder “was that me?”
God knows because he wrote it.

Fernando Pessoa. I don’t know how many souls I have, 1930.

Shadow.

And the spirit of darkness spread a shroud over me…everything was silent-everything. But up in the heights soughed the ever lasting song, the voice of the air, the distant, toneless humming which is never silent.

Knut Hamsun.

Vincent Van Gogh. Sorrow, 1882.

Vincent Van Gogh. Sorrow , 1882.

The model is a 32 year old pregnant prostitute by the name of Cassina Maria Hoornik who committed suicide at the age of 54 by drowning. Both beautiful and tragic.