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The horizon grows rotund, beautiful, and full of azure, like a glass ball in a garden with its miniature and illuminated panorama of the world, in a happily ordered composition, above which the clouds are arranged, its conclusive toppings, unfolding cannekla a long row like rouleaux of golden medals, or peals of bells combining in rosy litanies. Herded into their mania, they could not extricate themselves from the knot of those horns, and so, lowering their heads, they looked out sadly and wildly from between them as if trying to find a pathway through their branches.

Those distended rag dolls of burdocks bulged there like peasant women sitting around half-devoured by their own crazy skirts. Wrapped up in the precision and meticulousness of their bodies, they knew neither deviation nor error. Frasi di Bruno Schulz.

Il pensionato (in Le botteghe color cannella)

But today, clad in armour, I mock your tickling, by which you once drove one helpless to despair. Here are the great incubators of stories, storyteller factories, misty kilns of fables and fairytales. Their perfection was alarming.

Nato da una famiglia di ebrei della Galizia, allora in Austria, oggi in Ucraina. Oh, those cunningly smiling mornings, like shrewd palimpsests, many-layered like old, yellowed books. Andrea De Carlo 67 scrittore italiano.


Le Botteghe Color Cannella | BUNCH Records

Ricopre tutto senza discernimento, confonde il senso con il nonsenso, eternamente buffona, finta tonta, di una leggerezza senza limiti. Oh, those aged mornings, as yellow as parchment, sweet with wisdom, like late evenings. Oh, the autumnal day, that old jester-librarian clambering up ladders in his slipped-down dressing gown, collor the preserves of all ages and cultures! It was the incomprehensibility that could not be contained within their lives, a wild and obsessive caprice, their ill-judged and blind obstinacy.

One must interpret the flights of those birds One began to cut them with blunt knives without appetite, with a lazy indifference. Henryk Sienkiewicz 11 scrittore e giornalista polacco. Autori simili Andrzej Stasiuk 1.

Behind each gesture, each movement, we like to see its exertion, its torpor, its sweet ursinality. People go about stupefied by the light, their eyes closed, exploding inwardly with rockets, Roman candles and powder-kegs. Francesco Alberoni 45 sociologo, giornalista e scrittore italiano The Alexandrine epoch of the year, gathering into its enormous libraries all the sterile wisdom of the three hundred and sixty-five days of the solar cycle!

Alfred Kubin 6 illustratore e scrittore austriaco. A threadbare and patchy, too-short mantle of snow was spread over the reddened earth. Anniversari di oggi Giovanni Pascoli 87 poeta italiano – But a moment later, cast out to the edge, to the surface, they yawned in their nihility, disappointed and without illusions. Here are endless infernos, those hopeless Ossianic expanses, those lamentable Nibelungs. Like late begotten children, it lags behind in its development, a hunchback month, a half-wilted offshoot, and more conjectured than real.


Yehiel De-Nur 7 scrittore polacco. But later, toward evening, that hurricane fire of light softens.

Michele Marzulli 34 poeta, pittore e scrittore italiano. They sank for a moment, far into themselves, to the bottom of their being; they froze in their soft fur and grew menacingly and ceremoniously serious, and cannellz eyes grew as round as moons, soaking up the view into their fiery craters. Ettore Sottsass 98 architetto e designer italiano – Francis Picabia 6 pittore e scrittore francese.

Kamil Glik 1 calciatore polacco. I understood why those animals were disposed to ill-judged and wild panic, to startled frenzy. It was too meagre for the many roofs, which remained black or rust coloured, shingled roofs like arks and thatched cottages, concealing within them the smoke-blackened expanses of attics—charred-black cathedrals bristling cannlela ribs of rafters, purlins and joists, dark lungs of the winter gales.

Always and bktteghe, you have thwarted my actions with your outbursts of mindless animosity.

We are simply rapt by it, entranced by the cheapness, the paltriness, the tawdriness of the material. There, it had assumed its wild, incalculable, and incredible bottehge, twisted into a fantastical arabesque, invisible to their eyes, but dreadful nonetheless, the unknown numeral under whose menace they lived.

We, to the contrary, love its abrasiveness, its unruliness, its rag doll ungainliness. Marshall McLuhan 92 sociologo canadese – We give precedence to junk.