glorification of the Turkish simit / the viennese-turkish connection

http://www.flickr.com/photos/mbell1975/3031702113/

the glorification of the Turkish simit by the Austrian eagle

if you come acroos a fallen simit; pick it up and put it up by a window; a reflex; a habit; the 2nd district; pazmaniten strase october 2010; ev.k has just arrived in this city of the subconscious

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ısırılmış ve düşürülmüş simit

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"You ought not to be rude to an eagle, when you are only the size of a hobbit, and are up in hid eyrie at night!"

— J.R.R. Tolkien (The Hobbit: Or There and Back Again)

"Sometimes I fly like an eagle but with the wings of a wren"

— Anne Sexton (The Complete Poems: Anne Sexton)

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"Great men are like eagles, and build their nest on some lofty solitude"

Arthur Schopenhauer

http://www.flickr.com/photos/zineysong/76728487/sizes/z/

stories and other fragile things (always striving)

a fish about to slip back into the sea

suk; naschmarkt

on the way to semperdepot

karlsplatz, accidental rainbow, only on sunny days onlt at thr right angle

monument to the fly; october 2010; vienna; schillerplatz

"Stories are made up by people who make them up. If they work, they get retold. There's the magic of it."
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"She seems so cool, so focused, so quiet, yet her eyes remain fixed upon the horizon. You think you know all there is to know about her immediately upon meeting her, but everything you think you know is wrong. Passion flows through her like a river of blood.

She only looked away for a moment, and the mask slipped, and you fell. All your tomorrows start here."

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"..It occurs to me that the peculiarity of most things we think of as fragile is how tough they truly are. There were tricks we did with eggs, as children, to show how they were, in reality, tiny load-bearing marble halls; while the beat of the wings of a butterfly in the right place, we are told, can create a hurricane across an ocean. Hearts may break, but hearts are the toughest of muscles, able to pump for a lifetime, seventy times a minute, and scarcely falter along the way. Even dreams, the most delicate and intangible of things, can prove remarkable difficult to kill."
— Neil Gaiman (Fragile Things)

the light reveals a secondary horizon / stefansDome

(so, i did manage to mess up my cell phone's message system... i guess i need to slow down and keep it to myself if i ever can...)

from stefan's dome i met this cloud-factory just below the horizon. i now know how the clouds are made!

and with a trick of sunlight a horizontal fragment of the city was transformed into an eastern palace. somewhere between a palace and a kingdom. somewhere between the ottoman palace and the lord of the rings.

the wind. the fucking cold wind on the dome was amazing. it cold have just taken us away. far and away and there we go.

the flacturms looked tantalizing. bulky and dark and had an interesting materişal presence.

i just watched how clouds were made just below the horizon. and saw Don Quixote de la Mancha to the left. he was fighting a wind-mill.

with a trick of the mind the city trascends its own bondage in matter. a slippage into the semantic horizon. the slippage to the imaginary. between fact and fiction lies the land of the fool and the brave. lies the land of the eternal wanderer.

the view from the stephen's dome can make a poet out of a wanderer. reach out to the snowy mountains. it is the siege of the sky and the sun! the most beautiful siege. that of the light. i adore light. a dramatic light, that was. constantly changing the perception of the lanscape. mingling it with fantasy. as far as the eye can see, as wide as the horizon of the imaginary.

actually what happened was:

the light revealed a second horizon. where an eastern palace might still be shining under a moonlight. tonight.

and siege is not the right word. i would rather call it "surrender"

the city surrendered willingly to the sun. to the wind. to the powers beyond our reach.