tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41273136974530177482024-02-19T12:16:26.655+00:00MEMORY IS A LOADED GUNwir waren alle jung, mehr oder weniger begabt und wir waren schönJulia Harissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03095248076847799584noreply@blogger.comBlogger164125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4127313697453017748.post-343782949296518212011-11-28T23:52:00.003+00:002011-11-30T01:20:20.870+00:00turn the pageI still remember all of it as if it happened last week, but it was summer then and it will soon be christmas now. it was my last night in paris, we had picked up a friend of theirs who just arrived from belgium. I forget if he was in brussels or antwerp. they were on their 7th joint or so for the day and I didn't inhale more than a fraction, I was too scared of getting the "pot weirdies" as someone once told me it was called, although we weren't smoking pot but hash. we had taken the wrong metro home from the rehearsal studio, it was my fault, we had to walk the long way home but somehow through a miracle there was a small shop right by the metro station that sold beer even though it was after midnight, a rare thing in paris. they were talking about music, I didn't really have much to say, I was sad because I had to go home and because of something he had told me 2 days before. not to get too attached, he didn't look at me in the same way he used to when I first arrived, nor the way he did when he visited me in london a month prior. I was sitting next to him on the sofa. I don't remember what they were talking about. I think one of the others were showing a music video on the computer. always something obscure from the 80's, I do like that kind of music, but I don't have much to say when it comes to discussing it. I reached for another beer, I was wearing a ring that he had given me the day before, he bought it for me at the flea market that I took them too, at porte de montreuil, (julia took me there when I visited her, when was it? 3 years ago? time flies.) A guy that I used to work with always used to open his beer bottles with help of the ring he always wore so I thought I should try it. instead of opening my bottle the beer cap chipped away a tiny piece of my ring, leaving a small hole. horrified I turned to him and said something along the lines of "oh shit! I broke the ring!" I hesitated, then I said in a voice meant only for him "I was going to wear it forever". he looked at me and said " nothing lasts forever" I can't remember if he held my hand. my whole worldd were falling apart when I heard him say those words. on his right arm he had my name carved in with a scalpel, a failed drunken attempt at making home made tattoos. I sometimes wonder if he still has the scar of my name, if that will last forever.Maria Ceciliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15786158285697496348noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4127313697453017748.post-25903515016721851352011-11-18T01:06:00.008+00:002011-11-22T17:24:30.970+00:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpEZnKRGFp2n-MOW1PHGxvH6t0SrGwFsNacXiefKAZtUmwkQ3jQfSAqNVR6LNS59ttu5DoraoFHCEmos14TF55UnfedtW0j_pVJZ8TNsvBpJ_WEJCXJipwM54O3JqZgwiO_ik5EWo484o/s1600/255681_10150626386590247_533030246_18993590_6635711_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 269px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpEZnKRGFp2n-MOW1PHGxvH6t0SrGwFsNacXiefKAZtUmwkQ3jQfSAqNVR6LNS59ttu5DoraoFHCEmos14TF55UnfedtW0j_pVJZ8TNsvBpJ_WEJCXJipwM54O3JqZgwiO_ik5EWo484o/s320/255681_10150626386590247_533030246_18993590_6635711_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676136117957174402" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKD9iDNSrWqOxE3KJ6NwAKQfnfS9sUNHWDrgctpKWeiwYDaib__1dGH4QGV_dvO7iYnA2uUMj5_-latpdC1arDccD9SO_3A-GU_Bj_1CVEZJWI4TI5G82YgOrkCYOtbcHLJZQY3EP0MiQ/s1600/340x.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 225px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKD9iDNSrWqOxE3KJ6NwAKQfnfS9sUNHWDrgctpKWeiwYDaib__1dGH4QGV_dvO7iYnA2uUMj5_-latpdC1arDccD9SO_3A-GU_Bj_1CVEZJWI4TI5G82YgOrkCYOtbcHLJZQY3EP0MiQ/s320/340x.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676136065147599810" /></a><br /><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdaaGalmVe-yVi4HF_yXZhpmQemwhyphenhyphen2MICTdj251Jax20PM27p3-30LLRrYjcWK_1vOmT1L8iEYikWVqem2HJFIRytaEKPMERgK0nQX3H0oblZ8xykh2-73KsrV0nekEAhyy9mnkLfCNQ/s320/-MARIANNE-FAITHFULL-EN-CONCERT.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676135988962520786" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 251px; " /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Truth will out.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Aleksandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518275254916894966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4127313697453017748.post-23741055521962376962011-09-16T19:37:00.006+01:002011-09-16T19:49:50.910+01:00<div>Is it tonight that changed my life</div><div><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzOee3R3aCuLfqB9eRjT1F7W3bboCbzCbxkf2aHnWsoRRqLztqrXY1OySWqES8zPMPCPGy4WoMPiQBOwwEgWh_FklwfrA2OSJuR_2uXXwxK16kAfBS8xzDLbKYtOzxzznjK3mStWFABKw/s320/DSC_0734.JPG" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653030975503088818" />Aleksandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518275254916894966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4127313697453017748.post-51007394696421604272011-07-21T13:27:00.003+01:002011-07-28T09:08:55.642+01:00In England, and I was sure in America, they loved animalsSo, I am walking down the street, my hands sticky from beer and Indian kebab that we consumed on the stairs of the newly renovated and richly ornamented church at St Boniface, if you know what I mean, it was sunny and pleasant and full of people swooshing by, there are always so many people on the streets of the African area in Brussels, there was sound of music from someone learning how to play the ukelele, or cymbalon, when I bumped into long-lost friends, shreds and pieces of previous lives, in other, far-away countries. <div><br /><div>Stranger things must have happened though. Have you ever heard the story of Yusuf Islam?<br /><br />Steven Georgiou, born in Marylebone, London, England),[8] was the third child of a Greek-Cypriot father, Stavros Georgiou (b. 1900),[9] and a Swedish mother, Ingrid Wickman (b. 1915).[10] He has an older sister, Anita, and brother, David.[8] The family lived above Moulin Rouge, the restaurant that his parents operated on the north end of Shaftesbury Avenue, a short walk from Piccadilly Circus in the Soho theatre district of London. All family members worked in the restaurant.[8] His parents divorced when he was about 8 years old, but they continued to maintain the family restaurant and live above it.<br />Although his father was Greek Orthodox and his mother a Swedish Baptist, Georgiou was sent to a Catholic school, St. Joseph Roman Catholic Primary School in Macklin Street, which was closer to his father's business on Drury Lane.[11] Georgiou developed an interest in piano at a fairly young age, eventually using the family baby grand piano to work out the chords, since no one else there played well enough to teach him. Inspired by the popularity of The Beatles, at age 15 he extended his interest to the guitar,[4] convinced his father to pay £8 for his first instrument, and began playing it and writing songs.[12] He would escape at times from his family responsibilities to the rooftop above their home, and listen to the tunes of the musicals drifting from just around the corner;[8] from Denmark Street, which was then the centre of the British music industry.[4] Later, Stevens has emphasized that the advent of West Side Story in particular affected him, giving him a "different view of life", he said in 2000, on a VH1 Behind the Musicprogramme.[13] With interests in both art and music, he and his mother moved to Gävle, Sweden, where he attended primary school (<span class="Apple-style-span">Solängsskolan</span>). In Gävle he also started developing his drawing skills after being influenced by his uncle Hugo Wickman, a painter.[14]<br />He attended other local West End schools, where he says he was constantly in trouble, and did poorly in everything but art. He was called "the artist boy" and mentions that "I was beat up, but I was noticed".[15]He went on to take a one-year course of study at Hammersmith School of Art,[16]as he considered a career as a cartoonist. Though he enjoyed art (his later record albums would feature his original artwork on his album covers),[15] he wanted to establish a musical career and began to perform originally under the stage name "Steve Adams" in 1965 while at Hammersmith.[16][17] At that point, his goal was to become a songwriter. Among the musicians who influenced him were Bob Dylan, Nina Simone, blues artists Lead Belly and Muddy Waters,[18] John Lennon, Biff Rose (who played on his first album), Leo Kottke,[15] andPaul Simon.[19] He also wanted to emulate composers who wrote musicals, like Ira Gershwin andLeonard Bernstein. In 1965 he signed a publishing deal with Ardmore & Beechwood and cut several demos, including "The First Cut Is the Deepest".[20]</div></div>Aleksandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518275254916894966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4127313697453017748.post-82038721504683972362011-07-19T09:49:00.002+01:002011-07-19T09:50:05.152+01:00:D- Should we?<br />- Fuck it, we, re young!Julia Harissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03095248076847799584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4127313697453017748.post-91599216812943908422011-07-19T09:33:00.006+01:002011-12-12T14:10:57.141+00:00Julia - Eternal synopsisYou want to get saved by her,<br />get close to her,<br />tame her,<br />own her,<br />disect her carisma and magic.<br /><br />And finally learn how to be like her. <br />But you are ashamed of these egoistic, parasitlike<br />intentions.<br />You are intimidated by her being,<br />and for each centimetre that you get closer to her you become more and more nervous.<br /><br />Because she is so effortless, so real. <br />Because she is the opposite of everyone you know. <br /><br />Time passes.<br /><br />And you will achieve your goal eventually.<br />You will get close to her. <br />The two of you will create stories together. <br />Millions of stories.<br /><br />And you will realize that your inner conflict can only be solved by her breakdown. <br /><br />By you feeling superior, that you have the upper hand. <br /><br />And that too happens. <br /><br />But you will, stil and always, respect her too much to tell her that your roles have changed. <br /><br />And in fact. They have not.<br /><br />Because even when she will be down at the very bottom <br />and you will still have still have your position<br />somewhere in the safe middle<br /><br />you will still remain the observer<br />and she the hero of the story.Julia Harissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03095248076847799584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4127313697453017748.post-12717188267886434022011-07-04T11:28:00.006+01:002011-07-04T11:40:32.499+01:00Korean cafe<span class="Apple-style-span">"<span class="Apple-style-span">In Korea, there are many types of cafes with diverse themes. Cafes are not just for drinking coffee and meeting people, but also for fun activities. For example, in a so-called '</span><span><b>Dress cafe</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span">', you can </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span">wear any dresses you want</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span"> while you drink coffee or drinks. You can also </span><span style="font-weight: bold; ">take pictures</span><span class="Apple-style-span">. Boys can wear tuxedo in this kind of cafe. For a special celebration, you can go to a dress cafe and dress up like a bride and a groom (</span><b><span class="Apple-style-span">with your boyfriend</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span">). You can also rent a room in the dress cafe for </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span">just you and your boyfriend</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span">. In dress cafe you can also wear special clothes like old fashion school uniforms of Korea. There are lots of accessories, so you can match them with your clothes. There is cafe called 'Jail Cafe'. This cafe really looks like jail. You can have drinks in the prison. The clerk in jail cafe dresses up like police. </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span">You can also have fun with handcuffs, pistol and so on</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span">. In 'Cat or dog cafe', you can enjoy your drinks with </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span">cute dogs and cats</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span">. There are about 30 kinds of dogs and cats in this cafe. So if you want to see many kinds of dogs and cats, 'Cat and Dog cafe' would be nice to go. You can also bring your dogs or cats to the cafe. There is 'Cave Cafe' also. You can have drinks in cave. The cave is decorated with beautiful lights. Even though the cafe is in the real cave, there are no bats </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span">of course</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span">. 'Trompe-l'œil cafe' is </span><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><span class="Apple-style-span">really funny</span></b> </span><span class="Apple-style-span">cafe. Trompe-l'œil is Franch word which means <b>trick</b>. There are lots of funny realistic paintings in this kind of cafe. If you take pictures in front of the paintings, </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span">it really looks like</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span"> you are in that paintings. There are famous painter's paintings like Pablo </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span">Ruiz</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span"> Picasso. In 'Board game cafe', you can play any kind of board game you can imagine. And, 'Hello Kitty Cafe' is a cafe for</span><span class="Apple-style-span"> <b>those who love</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span"> Hello Kitty. You can enjoy Kitty Cake which looks like Kitty, and cafe latte in a Kitty cup.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span">[edit]"</span></span>Aleksandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518275254916894966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4127313697453017748.post-77060470821717116522011-06-30T10:54:00.003+01:002011-06-30T11:11:05.020+01:00Martynka Wawrzyniak<iframe src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/18999606?title=0&byline=0&portrait=0&color=ffffff" width="400" height="225" frameborder="0"></iframe><p><a href="http://vimeo.com/18999606">Chocolate, 2010</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user5697711">MARTYNKA WAWRZYNIAK</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.</p><br />Lust, desire, performance, endurance, a bad joke on a very boring day, subordination, torture, chocolate.Aleksandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518275254916894966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4127313697453017748.post-45003932425920852011-06-21T14:56:00.001+01:002011-06-21T14:56:23.977+01:00... Take most people, they're crazy about cars. They worry if they get a little scratch on them, and they're always talking about how many miles they get to a gallon…I don't even like old cars. I mean they don't even interest me. I'd rather have a goddam horse. A horse is at least human, for God's sake ...Julia Harissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03095248076847799584noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4127313697453017748.post-18342844447717710012011-05-30T14:52:00.026+01:002011-06-23T12:50:35.743+01:00Aleksandra # - My favourite means of motionThis is not a very important statement in any way, but I love trains. So much classier than riding a wonky city bike home from the club or a third-class seat in a low-cost rienair flight. I never met the love of my life onboard or witnessed a murder on the Midnight Express or anything like that, but I heart the beauty of banal travel details. The odd co-passengers, saints and sinners, newspaper readers, egg eaters, doggies on the way to the sea. The smell of coal when you pass an industrial town (or cabbage near Korsnäs paper factory, welcome home to Gävle). The sound of speed as we accelerate through never-ending meadows and sudden night in the tunnel. The modern dandy listening to sorrowful 80ies ballads a bit too loud and you can only imagine the kind of person broke his heart. Godforsaken idyll where some older ladies get off at a station with rusty signs. Ajaccio-Bastia that felt like a roller coaster, ride interrupted by sheep resting on the rails. Changing trains in the middle of nowhere in Morocco on a star-spangled night. Having the compartment all to ourselves. Or sharing it with an obese Ukrainian who snored through the night so I could enjoy the sunrise on the nighttrain from Ivanofrankivsk to Kyiv. Life in a dining-car - pretty good title for a memoir?<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTaMxZqgmnKQce_aUyAxu9bCDJRHepeSAZjIj8XKcvgmk4sns1yWWaf0ghyphenhyphenw81bEHvmPCZRJGgINPrYTMRAHfj830sX5mHTFXaWYfmjIvLahf-2GL7jvFOkMYMBGeRALKI7HJ67ppq_mw/s1600/Image+73.png" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTaMxZqgmnKQce_aUyAxu9bCDJRHepeSAZjIj8XKcvgmk4sns1yWWaf0ghyphenhyphenw81bEHvmPCZRJGgINPrYTMRAHfj830sX5mHTFXaWYfmjIvLahf-2GL7jvFOkMYMBGeRALKI7HJ67ppq_mw/s320/Image+73.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614442211699428802" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJpVFnqk9BNUc_7DeoRv0XtVlUJNfVfXAOcTazYCtRN1HZsAy7BEGXJTjg0LC9gSDpL4zdycbknQ9A6Bmut30YdvMe4j9GN957WVNSgXJPm8U00Be-231nq6sf3PssrpQdM3H88RIN9W8/s1600/Image+74.png" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJpVFnqk9BNUc_7DeoRv0XtVlUJNfVfXAOcTazYCtRN1HZsAy7BEGXJTjg0LC9gSDpL4zdycbknQ9A6Bmut30YdvMe4j9GN957WVNSgXJPm8U00Be-231nq6sf3PssrpQdM3H88RIN9W8/s320/Image+74.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614442049197825570" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwWvL-Cn3jkxYNSryxfK1hyw6qPxtCmGERKaZe_KsMxCMyt8ky7KQy9xm63_apP1Oah287Vla_wayuWAUGyoLLMtjGV33Kg94Iha3ShhEg8gX1An_fAJk9OgS4S_4uyxM9rh-vl27Lj4U/s1600/Image+70.png" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwWvL-Cn3jkxYNSryxfK1hyw6qPxtCmGERKaZe_KsMxCMyt8ky7KQy9xm63_apP1Oah287Vla_wayuWAUGyoLLMtjGV33Kg94Iha3ShhEg8gX1An_fAJk9OgS4S_4uyxM9rh-vl27Lj4U/s320/Image+70.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614441852377915522" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7hCoB1UXiI1wx79DgHU4ePizkZICbHcVFJ7HxPreOSw1X7KH6hBIxKWKxl9UiLN8Hz0cNDcBE-eWdVqZBXD7vef3kakY5wH484g9e4m9qURGivjlXLJVHqLHNZJTSaBBEtvJEVjrD5I4/s1600/Image+95.png" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7hCoB1UXiI1wx79DgHU4ePizkZICbHcVFJ7HxPreOSw1X7KH6hBIxKWKxl9UiLN8Hz0cNDcBE-eWdVqZBXD7vef3kakY5wH484g9e4m9qURGivjlXLJVHqLHNZJTSaBBEtvJEVjrD5I4/s320/Image+95.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614441684053002002" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg78NsYHxJopjkKE9B5YpL8rNLUf-Iq6txhwJLyH0djcHLn8nBLMJWXjID7s7-sMtdqGvhgA75vgz_qjw-tq10PZ70JnA7-j8GaQFKQiL9Imq3pTtFTRMSKbX5kRThfU7nnkA4dJRXzjVo/s1600/Image+99.png" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg78NsYHxJopjkKE9B5YpL8rNLUf-Iq6txhwJLyH0djcHLn8nBLMJWXjID7s7-sMtdqGvhgA75vgz_qjw-tq10PZ70JnA7-j8GaQFKQiL9Imq3pTtFTRMSKbX5kRThfU7nnkA4dJRXzjVo/s320/Image+99.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614441359358047346" /></a><br /><br />Freeze frames from the film "Pociąg" by Jerzy KawalerowiczAleksandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518275254916894966noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4127313697453017748.post-50078893033063340032011-04-15T11:31:00.004+01:002011-05-30T15:11:54.076+01:00Julia # - EtceteraTuesday evening, I had a skype date with a close friend I hadn't seen for a while. Now we both had a strong urge to talk. My friend had just met someone. I could tell it was serious. We had earlier both been victims of falling in love with complicated souls that promised understanding and willingness to share problems and turn loneliness into... I don't know... fun! Anyway, these were promises that never got to be fulfilled as they, the objects of our feelings had themselves to be saved first and frankly - neither my friend nor I were very good at saving people; quite the opposite. <br /><br />So the conversation began. Soon enough, after my fiend had told me all about this fantastic new person and all her assets and great sides (I was half-listening, I had heard these stories before, every love story starts in a similar way) we started to discuss the ideal woman. She was beautiful of course, but that was so obvious it hardly had to be mentioned. And besides, beauty is something so easy manipulated it can't constitute a serious criterion. <br /><br />I said - my woman is... me. We're interchangeable, always wanting to know more about each other, my ideal woman is memorizing my freckles, she sees solar systems in my birthmarks, and I analyze secret codes in what she mumbles when she talks in her sleep. My ideal woman always wants to be close to me, to be my saviour, although she'll keep telling me I'm the one saving her. My ideal woman is the opposite of loneliness; she's the second half, the very essence of support. My ideal woman is a babushka that carries me inside her, that is encapsulated by me, and I am swallowed by her and I carry her on the inside of my ribs. <br />- That is ridiculous! my friend interrupts me. I can see in the web cam he has started to prepare his dinner while I was holding my speech. You're not looking for a partner, you're looking for someone to fill the void inside of you, he states and continues: the ideal woman is not someone who solves all your problems. You're looking for some kind of life solution in your woman. Those things should be done through the help of a psychologist! I'm pretty sure that my ideal woman will create even more problems in my life; she'll stir everything around and replace all parameters with chaos. <br /> - So you're not looking for someone to share everything with? I ask. <br />- Of course I do, he says. But not for an extension of myself. Quite the opposite, I want a lover, travel buddy, cell mate, and best friend. Someone judging my life from the outside, respecting it but offering alternatives through her own behaviour. Someone so independent that it hurts, someone that I will never feel that I own, someone who will always surprise me as she is thinking in different schemes than I, someone screaming at me, fighting with me, teaching me things, learning from me, together we'll reach new levels, combining our strengths, focusing on each others strong sides. But not melting into one person, that sounds ... unhealthy. Scary, terrifying even!<br />- But that's the point! I reply. You won't find the ideal partner without risking anything! And once you find her - and once she finds you - you will both live with your feelings on the outside. That's the most beautiful thing people can do. <br /><br />And then just like that, I lost the internet connection. But I'm quite sure the discussion will continue.Julia Harissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03095248076847799584noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4127313697453017748.post-11370210487798001512010-10-01T11:40:00.006+01:002010-10-03T22:56:47.441+01:00Julia # - Paul de VreeOriginally a poet, then turned into an artist. Avant-garde literary theoretician.<br /><br />(I would love to be described exactly like that )<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwv0LR_x507wElQyTv3bySG_L2V8mxnStSYU_zPd5_AFuWWaVxDNUQau2r3qNxYG0UjNyxedmM7o8Y0r-P0HLJQaWMtp8_u0qSQQuZjcib8TQo9dDdNVXkcTxhrLtjEKZ8MMwpCp4zPQ/s1600/buliding.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 280px; height: 204px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwv0LR_x507wElQyTv3bySG_L2V8mxnStSYU_zPd5_AFuWWaVxDNUQau2r3qNxYG0UjNyxedmM7o8Y0r-P0HLJQaWMtp8_u0qSQQuZjcib8TQo9dDdNVXkcTxhrLtjEKZ8MMwpCp4zPQ/s400/buliding.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523026781858349138" /></a><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyZrQLLS5JmdOKjUvleVljwGhreG3Rj_8567Oxv2s_99us9sz8JdSzrHXYoDEvU-tHkT0edNm6ZOWEaUjmckv_D9d8mLudaY5Q8M53x0Vf7kLQGncRJK4J6zIvao5-YiJYPAqHE0_A1g/s400/Paul+de+Vree+Revolutie.jpg" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 400px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523026100297511458" /><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPky1NXZYeurweMufShgL17K8Ss_WlQWSYFg0-ns1UT2e1Kyezxs_2ycQR8jC7VjJ4fackL9KMqHc490spliO4yv8uzcD_nw3YWCIaSkpqNDyjHvVb1D8zFy8v5plzAhkGIIdzoZVR3g/s400/de_vree02.gif" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 388px; height: 400px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523026093572631346" /></div>Julia Harissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03095248076847799584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4127313697453017748.post-77718515337928962702010-09-28T00:36:00.005+01:002010-10-03T22:57:30.457+01:00Julia # - THIS IS BERLIN<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi00kImrerbOYpQxqZ_EIe7N7Bo3vSH57QZH9f7nsTElxaYtaQJEEub8uoGv0HehQwDsmZMoAMl2X0SEtgth-ddxLBz-y9K5vyivlw-MWrOXgC-tTQYpP2sIgg41rFNBAMUlfq_8m0Ofg/s400/IMG_6386.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521742196237266226" /><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJV7DihgVVS0leYzzcWuYS4qYkvyg7B_dL24JO5FXcPeV7KW87Xyz_JqvOMhLvkLkWvd8cYD_5OfPEOheuw8wn5UzyiWIiPf_j4Yg4ykAW2VCwV0hDIQc4xSvljNKWz3tT6tcDsSX3fw/s400/IMG_6280.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521742176392615602" /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTdr5dNOUwcPWSapdNV2o_1UqtAk7j5AIdyhU8oWNS9vOSpfd7MOJqkx8FWB-v2vPqHne3eHnBQ45o_ddEmNISxlJVFogcjHYCXwMztLwtg1O3iSpSj4VYzdmpRBsg4cPcGkmLaDrhhA/s1600/IMG_6360.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTdr5dNOUwcPWSapdNV2o_1UqtAk7j5AIdyhU8oWNS9vOSpfd7MOJqkx8FWB-v2vPqHne3eHnBQ45o_ddEmNISxlJVFogcjHYCXwMztLwtg1O3iSpSj4VYzdmpRBsg4cPcGkmLaDrhhA/s400/IMG_6360.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521742191978603922" /></a><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhAv8c4tdRwzPAc1EU8ZUGlpBvYJXuf68u5lfJzlTh_lgEWr4h-GvNOWuB0UqiAV1JeKlc8l6G80F0ALWbOKTYouSmzVz-tTrtzSd4PssBNYaSC6cNwAGJCjc7zxdPlOlCG0VBkvToOw/s400/IMG_6313.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521742187144092594" /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPLRuFHX9S6Pbeim5FAQ3I20rZmlKkCoMYqK09LciVCcg_FxcFj_SzeLX_OqWINk3umDC1sOngxvkw5xMoAypHwAP1QPG1SPWGETilGCRpDTpWB1-HDWUk6jDW9ZNYUuCxwbju73HzLg/s400/IMG_6391.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521743081430920242" /><br /><br /><div>Late summer of 2010</div>Julia Harissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03095248076847799584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4127313697453017748.post-72144695789737658682010-08-22T23:09:00.015+01:002010-08-23T00:35:38.782+01:00Aleksandra - Everything I can wish for a summer night in Antwerp<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGnBuNdOImRhQvlPS1qEKbPlpcu3YoFV-2bTwkAz93oN_vOq6nx5mdsIN8UljZUm80SHuwHZj1IRXkm5OuxdK86v7CO3Tr_gbMqPLGPWDRFHMRaZvDMTkn1cN-NSaBTrIY5e4lD9s6OMc/s1600/knacki+skarp.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 263px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGnBuNdOImRhQvlPS1qEKbPlpcu3YoFV-2bTwkAz93oN_vOq6nx5mdsIN8UljZUm80SHuwHZj1IRXkm5OuxdK86v7CO3Tr_gbMqPLGPWDRFHMRaZvDMTkn1cN-NSaBTrIY5e4lD9s6OMc/s320/knacki+skarp.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508360679958933602" border="0" /> </a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjx2To7k3-8fvMLuJruu4MKLPCn1u5gUNleXyNRLBW60uMYFWle2delBK3l0MypY-uceufXa9msDjOSsemRLPrTfIUITT86yOZEFvThtxTfIBlmS76WTUZb028vKkFFENviBYhY9m67dE/s1600/IMG_5863-pola.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 263px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjx2To7k3-8fvMLuJruu4MKLPCn1u5gUNleXyNRLBW60uMYFWle2delBK3l0MypY-uceufXa9msDjOSsemRLPrTfIUITT86yOZEFvThtxTfIBlmS76WTUZb028vKkFFENviBYhY9m67dE/s320/IMG_5863-pola.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508360874550257842" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK4YHb8tYuTz4OBJuFjDlbBkMtdKsCp2MzGtIarfFd7twb-QjjLEKweF-2Pyyyhb2ZDdqbvQi8KlvsB8w1Ig9PWzcZiCeYLYyE1JDsvC65dRepUuQdIwrmhn-QXIHGeI8mYIYg-DoxZ1Q/s1600/IMG_5890-pola.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 263px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK4YHb8tYuTz4OBJuFjDlbBkMtdKsCp2MzGtIarfFd7twb-QjjLEKweF-2Pyyyhb2ZDdqbvQi8KlvsB8w1Ig9PWzcZiCeYLYyE1JDsvC65dRepUuQdIwrmhn-QXIHGeI8mYIYg-DoxZ1Q/s320/IMG_5890-pola.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508363837461247234" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio0sQdwtziIDKZiLCxZhu7VYPp6A6vXfLSeey7hTaxR398ejF0W-wTTGkq5miAfqdEsHZ40F9_CifjhY-JBzCbu2yZsyTJDnGoWgD0OPxgS4w5hF-aVb4218mmDhZ41CoS6KTYsKsKIxs/s1600/IMG_5899-pola.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 263px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio0sQdwtziIDKZiLCxZhu7VYPp6A6vXfLSeey7hTaxR398ejF0W-wTTGkq5miAfqdEsHZ40F9_CifjhY-JBzCbu2yZsyTJDnGoWgD0OPxgS4w5hF-aVb4218mmDhZ41CoS6KTYsKsKIxs/s320/IMG_5899-pola.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508364205767618082" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyn-BlVFm8jLyLZ9Vc0FYxavbi_N8le3hYU5nCtFV93xy8Ubj2Q0INvya7el4cr2bhiRYOZuZZ7A1BKrcUz3vw3XYAnWp6DVKb7_aOMvILEyQ8GXvgYpTiRn0rXIRFpWie0DFUmOsqTpA/s1600/IMG_6079-pola.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 263px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyn-BlVFm8jLyLZ9Vc0FYxavbi_N8le3hYU5nCtFV93xy8Ubj2Q0INvya7el4cr2bhiRYOZuZZ7A1BKrcUz3vw3XYAnWp6DVKb7_aOMvILEyQ8GXvgYpTiRn0rXIRFpWie0DFUmOsqTpA/s320/IMG_6079-pola.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508381789347227634" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGnlem0KDfH_EqzFXl2A0fQ2RDOmrm0jknJ3UGXcjTuPZ6m314GK-iUxmjbuS1LaLmOy72Wwm0GdO4MSspXrbDo4jZcJDsSdm_BXdTKqO7ladnuC0TzWFPHFsvb2UwQkQ4XZZARssW968/s1600/IMG_5945-pola.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 263px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGnlem0KDfH_EqzFXl2A0fQ2RDOmrm0jknJ3UGXcjTuPZ6m314GK-iUxmjbuS1LaLmOy72Wwm0GdO4MSspXrbDo4jZcJDsSdm_BXdTKqO7ladnuC0TzWFPHFsvb2UwQkQ4XZZARssW968/s320/IMG_5945-pola.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508364089404969154" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDggSTk85R6SoOdG9ej7ThttMJLSSm6KVIB4FXdXzf__BONTeyzHzvFbr7zf3tX9Hf07ukfkNj9_3aN-pElSSzSlrCK24uvDrz4Jg7Ytr-dRNOcrePx7uN7cvM2WMJg8r17eK8__gC6_w/s1600/McDo+skarp.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 263px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDggSTk85R6SoOdG9ej7ThttMJLSSm6KVIB4FXdXzf__BONTeyzHzvFbr7zf3tX9Hf07ukfkNj9_3aN-pElSSzSlrCK24uvDrz4Jg7Ytr-dRNOcrePx7uN7cvM2WMJg8r17eK8__gC6_w/s320/McDo+skarp.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508360775149525234" border="0" /></a>Aleksandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518275254916894966noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4127313697453017748.post-52814100629059008052010-08-21T13:58:00.005+01:002010-08-21T14:02:10.902+01:00JULIA -The Y -generation<span style="font-style:italic;">I got this text published in a magazine made by the French- American School in Paris.</span><br /><br />Desirous of everything at the same time.<br />I say, without the fear to generalize, <br />- is that the zeitgeist of our generation?<br /><br />Desirous of everything at the same time.<br />Because I'm sure it's not only me<br />being hit, every now and then,<br />by a feeling<br />that I want so much, <br />so much more than this.<br />I want to make mama happy, <br />but I need to do things that make mamas unhappy.<br /><br />I want to create, change, break out, go further <br />and get drunk on Saturday nights,<br />and sometimes on Thursdays too<br />and understand this family heritage of mine.<br />And celebrate this discovery with a lot of dancing at empty clubs,<br />and get myself a huge dog with a human face and intelligent eyes<br />and we'll respect each other mutually.<br />And much more still. <br /><br />I want to do everything, met everyone and live everywhere, at least for a little while.<br /><br />And for every place I get to know, and love and leave<br />my heart and head fills with stories that I'll never be able to tell my grand children<br />because these are not stories that should be told by a grandma<br />and as strangers become lovers and friends<br />my phone bill just gets bigger<br />I’m sure that my generation makes more long distance calls then ever before. <br /><br />And me and my generation wants to live in the future, <br />the past <br />and the present<br />all three in one second<br />We’re so well documented that not having a camera, iphone, facebook is a statement. <br />(That’s troublesome for a girl like me who loses a lot )<br /><br />Desire, realization, documentation. <br /><br />And of course we realize that our youth won’t last forever,<br />and of course we know that one day we'll have to pay for all the cigarettes we've smoked, being perfectly aware of the danger<br />But that's what makes us beautiful, the Y generation.<br />We know that cigarettes kill and buy another pack of those big red cheap ones.<br />We've seen all the failed love stories on film but still can’t help falling, breaking and trying again.<br />We got it all and we want even more.<br />Desirous of everything at the same time.<br />That’s us. The Y-generation.<br /><br /><br />Still, in somewhere between step one and five – it’s exactly the same as it always has been.<br />My mother told me yesterday that I should chose the music I listen to now with great care, because the music you listens to in your twenties will follow you and become the soundtrack of your life.<br />And our children too will carry pictures of us as young in their wallets and say <br />‘look, this is my mum in her twenties, wasn’t she beautiful?’<br />And they, like us, won’t understand what happened since those photos were taken.<br /><br />In a way everything remains the same, because<br />time and patterns are unfamiliar with changes. <br />And we, just like our parents, will never grow old<br />We'll just get older<br />And continue our lives,<br />always carrying our memories with us, like loaded guns . <br /><br />So I say this for the last time<br />without the fear to generalize <br /><br />Desirous of everything at the same time, <br />missing nothing, <br />wanting it all.<br />Is that the zeitgeist of our generation?<br />Or just of youth in general?Julia Harissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03095248076847799584noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4127313697453017748.post-1149445860861659602010-07-08T19:19:00.003+01:002010-07-08T19:31:59.782+01:00Ida # No idea, Don't think twice, it's alright<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS317PIZVc76uL1Pp1iiWDjPDjC8RcDsS__s8h7q-W4NNZtPcO40kO8z01__jjjJpINA3r7efYqBFkBxOjCx159BSFzX5Lo7F1ypO-4_eqBxYFZpXc3UGQnt8TBJlCS4_8Hl3xx33Cn9U/s1600/jellywish_src_1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS317PIZVc76uL1Pp1iiWDjPDjC8RcDsS__s8h7q-W4NNZtPcO40kO8z01__jjjJpINA3r7efYqBFkBxOjCx159BSFzX5Lo7F1ypO-4_eqBxYFZpXc3UGQnt8TBJlCS4_8Hl3xx33Cn9U/s320/jellywish_src_1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491604741859581378" /></a><br />Luften är tjock av värme av högsommar av kärlek av sol av att gå barfota av att ligga bredvid en människa som just lärt sig säga jävla av att dricka öl i kvällsolen av att tjuvröka på balkongen av att okynnessova av dig och dig och dig och alla andra av allt.Idahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10470338781071130647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4127313697453017748.post-35534724183848761402010-05-03T08:53:00.003+01:002010-05-03T09:54:57.300+01:00JULIA # 70<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4CARwY3B3jL_M-spkQhu0i7FxWiJ2Fh1czGVlAMqsCRZseXhhU60coEt4-fM7Bpiixq9Vgn3SWkyq8M0fcfs9VjwIKiEixDM1cmsiBlwIq2K0wHe6haghDLQWEpHdk-1Q_G3m8yEZ-g/s1600/1139401179plattenbau_tn.bmp"><img style="WIDTH: 350px; HEIGHT: 350px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466950264479206562" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4CARwY3B3jL_M-spkQhu0i7FxWiJ2Fh1czGVlAMqsCRZseXhhU60coEt4-fM7Bpiixq9Vgn3SWkyq8M0fcfs9VjwIKiEixDM1cmsiBlwIq2K0wHe6haghDLQWEpHdk-1Q_G3m8yEZ-g/s400/1139401179plattenbau_tn.bmp" /></a><br /><br />Hej älsklingar,<br /><br />ville bara säga att jag i fortsättningen kommer att publicera mina inlägg på svenska på en egen <a href="http://dagvild.blogspot.com/">blogg</a>, och de engelska här på memory.<br /><br />Det känns som att jag är tvungen att göra så för att få en samlad bild av vad jag har skrivit + skapa en visionboard för det fortsatta skrivandet. Den litterära ambitionen växer hela tiden och skroppen skriker efter struktur.<br />Men annars är allt som vanligt!<br />Pussar och kramarJulia Harissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03095248076847799584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4127313697453017748.post-2054210994194892082010-04-29T22:39:00.003+01:002011-06-10T12:15:14.051+01:00Aleksandra # 21 - Let's not go home just yet<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ytRhElgEE1I89LjAA7w4PgaVqb0ZGPwUtGhmJVvC0JaZqVRFv8bS53U77EHyeqs35Srre4aOlf0RDCJd7_6HSyzuF9jtx8za4eeP5fv8Wqg5va_-Nsz3ALKfMQzw1Tm89EQZet-J3lg/s1600/DSC_9329.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ytRhElgEE1I89LjAA7w4PgaVqb0ZGPwUtGhmJVvC0JaZqVRFv8bS53U77EHyeqs35Srre4aOlf0RDCJd7_6HSyzuF9jtx8za4eeP5fv8Wqg5va_-Nsz3ALKfMQzw1Tm89EQZet-J3lg/s320/DSC_9329.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465275349441858290" border="0" /></a>Aleksandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518275254916894966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4127313697453017748.post-52441525523698431102010-04-28T08:57:00.003+01:002010-04-28T09:00:57.598+01:00JULIA # 69 - Produced in Palestine and shipped to Norway<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge7su7w0MhCrGc1PRIMJbHu2O5e0qLukKh425R1n8FhljS-d5I05_14I8SyLcnWYBBbfhQh2bLymtGt2FGtXBttICiM22PVs2kcLxIcn5fxNrikAOEj7_UKYJXuR0j3DVaMEniceQnFQ/s1600/Lennstrom_1_bk_view.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge7su7w0MhCrGc1PRIMJbHu2O5e0qLukKh425R1n8FhljS-d5I05_14I8SyLcnWYBBbfhQh2bLymtGt2FGtXBttICiM22PVs2kcLxIcn5fxNrikAOEj7_UKYJXuR0j3DVaMEniceQnFQ/s400/Lennstrom_1_bk_view.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465094790196329250" /></a><br /><br />by Malin Lennström-ÖrtwallJulia Harissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03095248076847799584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4127313697453017748.post-21911935834561783352010-04-27T22:51:00.003+01:002011-06-21T14:58:23.893+01:00JULIA # 68 - If a girl looks swell, who cares if she is late? Nobody.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNIpTMwo2R5k_lrr92TMduDy32vRPCIzuOXcACnM-gfu63VL1_Z7PHEVgSgyp9sGs7dBhsEZTaB9I6qGUqiqYSL6R1v56btdmVR8-vP7hqRlj4CgfDOWn7CR50km3RgCirq3Xoq0ddhw/s1600/metalgirl1.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNIpTMwo2R5k_lrr92TMduDy32vRPCIzuOXcACnM-gfu63VL1_Z7PHEVgSgyp9sGs7dBhsEZTaB9I6qGUqiqYSL6R1v56btdmVR8-vP7hqRlj4CgfDOWn7CR50km3RgCirq3Xoq0ddhw/s400/metalgirl1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464938646262582562" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCpczzbCafi8b6_7r5AQNqMKx7o5862bP7Llc9xmwnxSuycRzQmV5KmKGOuXesXnmtvR0MW23-qglXpldcrnxIXx_l6LQVv0DKSEoDpC7axS_hRWtksfct2kSTP_6OIa_O0kQfU8Tm3g/s1600/k21cv6.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCpczzbCafi8b6_7r5AQNqMKx7o5862bP7Llc9xmwnxSuycRzQmV5KmKGOuXesXnmtvR0MW23-qglXpldcrnxIXx_l6LQVv0DKSEoDpC7axS_hRWtksfct2kSTP_6OIa_O0kQfU8Tm3g/s400/k21cv6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464942929526801426" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUIYm-3Sg0_YbyLna89hXmFhE2F_cK7S7Faa3wbFFV8eHmoXS8nH1v02thiOn-M1A3YIkn0NwWZFyxL5uH1z_P3-Mp7cnUP9h3OFsXusZGe4jxuiemeNou5Cl7iO9xTooGnIxHFIqRMw/s1600/Sharon-Tate.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 217px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUIYm-3Sg0_YbyLna89hXmFhE2F_cK7S7Faa3wbFFV8eHmoXS8nH1v02thiOn-M1A3YIkn0NwWZFyxL5uH1z_P3-Mp7cnUP9h3OFsXusZGe4jxuiemeNou5Cl7iO9xTooGnIxHFIqRMw/s400/Sharon-Tate.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464938651182032642" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqyLnP04_rwbaRHZNerEQd5btUPjoqId5bxCn6PtwdmGoi9x6nrYJmrtu3nXUwXN00nQ8DZ6AuivcG1Xtb9w7NJD3gsZ5mbxmOcTDnqR1ND20YNV2joXGjf9yl_zjvjfsAv9btl48xHw/s1600/_MG_1850.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqyLnP04_rwbaRHZNerEQd5btUPjoqId5bxCn6PtwdmGoi9x6nrYJmrtu3nXUwXN00nQ8DZ6AuivcG1Xtb9w7NJD3gsZ5mbxmOcTDnqR1ND20YNV2joXGjf9yl_zjvjfsAv9btl48xHw/s400/_MG_1850.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464942917576310418" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-kQMdp8QGJXO5R87dJEC8opavv9-d_SxzP-GJYaWT5In0jRGUOmSBI-4anN3tiMrwuq5YS7Ulnf4faqNCXrVX5o3bEzEHflPZWZvCxzUyivwHH-7NzMYugBWtnfbC-M3_EWLpUq3pNg/s1600/21535_1301524492278_1055404454_946435_7735989_n.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 395px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-kQMdp8QGJXO5R87dJEC8opavv9-d_SxzP-GJYaWT5In0jRGUOmSBI-4anN3tiMrwuq5YS7Ulnf4faqNCXrVX5o3bEzEHflPZWZvCxzUyivwHH-7NzMYugBWtnfbC-M3_EWLpUq3pNg/s400/21535_1301524492278_1055404454_946435_7735989_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464938643627957394" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1fcJZrW9wFPytlHXbkFk07JPXeE9pLEgs8p8cOUXFu6k3yiyD4lv0OkoNR7s7uW-NzTEGSD-dKWPAx525Chc_sVs095lDu0jZXa3AJNBTl8YIzi9xeOwBWYDNMea4mMdgzh0U7xFMCg/s1600/_MG_2204.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1fcJZrW9wFPytlHXbkFk07JPXeE9pLEgs8p8cOUXFu6k3yiyD4lv0OkoNR7s7uW-NzTEGSD-dKWPAx525Chc_sVs095lDu0jZXa3AJNBTl8YIzi9xeOwBWYDNMea4mMdgzh0U7xFMCg/s400/_MG_2204.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464942910976675794" border="0" /></a>Julia Harissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03095248076847799584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4127313697453017748.post-8668313535797044592010-04-27T22:28:00.002+01:002010-04-27T22:31:01.778+01:00JULIA # 67 - Bukowski, orginaletthe flesh covers the bone<br />and they put a mind<br />in there and<br />sometimes a soul,<br /><br />and the women break<br />vases against the walls<br />and the men drink too<br />much<br />and nobody finds the<br />one<br /><br />but keep<br />looking<br />crawling in and out<br />of beds.<br /><br />flesh covers<br />the bone and the<br />flesh searches<br />for more than<br />flesh.<br /><br />there's no chance<br />at all:<br />we are all trapped<br />by a singular<br />fate.<br /><br />nobody ever finds<br />the one.<br /><br />the city dumps fill<br />the junkyards fill<br />the madhouses fill<br />the hospitals fill<br />the graveyards fill<br /><br />nothing else<br />fills.Julia Harissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03095248076847799584noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4127313697453017748.post-45332295644211490672010-04-26T12:06:00.005+01:002010-09-28T01:02:10.584+01:00JULIA # 66 - Taśma zaczęła się kręcicÄlskade Olenka! Snart åker vi tåg till Casablanca istället för tunnelbana till jobbet, snar bor vi där William Burroughs bott <br />och försvinner utom alla myndigheternas synhåll. <br />Ja! Jaga oss gärna när vi röker vattenpipa där Ginsberg skrivit och köper tillräckligt med Fatimas händer för en livstid. <br />En skräck - kanske kanske inser vi där borta att mormors kök inte är det bästa i hela världen? Tveksamt dock, men jag har <em>hört saker</em>. <br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQxypVH_7zkxsekp9gM-PI1kVAm5o_hoebSsuDRM4Qn2YXW-ABY1FCJnGFpQqcImKDZm8KNkpqKf1QA2q_I8QMO_HYRxO1uJrTClxmJcJDgEI9Z7B6oJEDbjJZJELbmH6fMpPBIGBFdQ/s1600/DSCN1407.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQxypVH_7zkxsekp9gM-PI1kVAm5o_hoebSsuDRM4Qn2YXW-ABY1FCJnGFpQqcImKDZm8KNkpqKf1QA2q_I8QMO_HYRxO1uJrTClxmJcJDgEI9Z7B6oJEDbjJZJELbmH6fMpPBIGBFdQ/s400/DSCN1407.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464399725066702722" /></a><br /><br />Just nu är vi bara här, men snart är vi där.Julia Harissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03095248076847799584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4127313697453017748.post-72161452975355840232010-04-23T11:14:00.007+01:002010-04-26T18:01:11.592+01:00Aleksandra # 20 - Lebenskunst<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIdruEpivC0W8lpAkaQQzGf1zwQUba22PL7JWGjTBocLuVgGSta1nOeW2rZzm0jXHN-pNDW7o6h0ta4C77yJTMZol0WDHK9NmtDrxISV3GFVu1eYlxCbugeca7vBooDQ5PRUODx1wP3kQ/s1600/tamara.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 301px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIdruEpivC0W8lpAkaQQzGf1zwQUba22PL7JWGjTBocLuVgGSta1nOeW2rZzm0jXHN-pNDW7o6h0ta4C77yJTMZol0WDHK9NmtDrxISV3GFVu1eYlxCbugeca7vBooDQ5PRUODx1wP3kQ/s400/tamara.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463245874065048562" border="0" /></a>Je suis l'origine du monde,<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">A vixen de luxe and your faithful mistress.<br />Jestem Żonką, Męczennicą i Kochanką.<br />Jestem tą, którą akurat się bije.<br />I am the painting you stole from Picasso.<br />I am the cage that caught the bird.<br />I am on TV.<br /></div>Aleksandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518275254916894966noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4127313697453017748.post-10465065945824167362010-04-21T22:33:00.001+01:002010-04-21T22:41:43.628+01:00JULIA # 64 - PuuuhI just witnessed a man i used to love humilate a woman i respect and care about. <br />she couldn't care less. she has never been a people's pleaser.<br /><br />it's just that this made me realize where my priorities are. and that feels good. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBju_UbpMDE_7cZ3duFLvpLrxLFj7wSQPObfGQ79oZ1gGycuOl3DUZ2W4Fk6f8SaVoRG38V0oneiex-Y8ZRIdM9ToDCMBzXycYXBYkvvS6QlL3vM2dLAuHkQTOj7nJi8j7N4G0UdU6IQ/s1600/2delat.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 306px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBju_UbpMDE_7cZ3duFLvpLrxLFj7wSQPObfGQ79oZ1gGycuOl3DUZ2W4Fk6f8SaVoRG38V0oneiex-Y8ZRIdM9ToDCMBzXycYXBYkvvS6QlL3vM2dLAuHkQTOj7nJi8j7N4G0UdU6IQ/s400/2delat.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462708235700575442" /></a><div><br /></div>Julia Harissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03095248076847799584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4127313697453017748.post-71950372449987833132010-04-21T14:51:00.005+01:002010-04-27T22:59:04.366+01:00JULIA # 61 - Places<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRbegeEBBAd2i4mlsvwfobnIoxzxvBrUMpKqFfG4G3ae5b5a9pYOkThYePaPo7GcgHhEXVt-32Ia82Hiom0pZmlMRDhtKKKjOA08qXSHfBpDk4YHsguLM2GfoLNP7aPiiPzaWaMmlCfA/s1600/_MG_3193.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRbegeEBBAd2i4mlsvwfobnIoxzxvBrUMpKqFfG4G3ae5b5a9pYOkThYePaPo7GcgHhEXVt-32Ia82Hiom0pZmlMRDhtKKKjOA08qXSHfBpDk4YHsguLM2GfoLNP7aPiiPzaWaMmlCfA/s400/_MG_3193.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464939321878037394" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmeqyk5P0VDVd4Ryn792xpXATEn0CGq8A8SvNent0xkvWw1-QaEtJumekvj696j91UIPqM54w8AkgeUDcFt7PiOLq4iw2tC99wVKYodU9anRIjLP-B4caaVzHGFeR7S2kdS9RIYAoBJA/s1600/bild.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 262px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmeqyk5P0VDVd4Ryn792xpXATEn0CGq8A8SvNent0xkvWw1-QaEtJumekvj696j91UIPqM54w8AkgeUDcFt7PiOLq4iw2tC99wVKYodU9anRIjLP-B4caaVzHGFeR7S2kdS9RIYAoBJA/s400/bild.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464939351322978674" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK3cessMS9A6e18MWSnmqstOOG7X5E6yz7dxfX_b-5EuNK3-6gJ5t9POS96dT7vo05p08NpYT93LvCATEUUFrfvahTTJaNIDxmOWaG3WXFn4sV-xnTzGmBmk20HYvN4qbHAwDV2sKnTQ/s1600/24566_404531571211_685001211_5479542_5345019_n.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK3cessMS9A6e18MWSnmqstOOG7X5E6yz7dxfX_b-5EuNK3-6gJ5t9POS96dT7vo05p08NpYT93LvCATEUUFrfvahTTJaNIDxmOWaG3WXFn4sV-xnTzGmBmk20HYvN4qbHAwDV2sKnTQ/s400/24566_404531571211_685001211_5479542_5345019_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464939342569302850" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHdRyVwvIxdF-D-CS3E3v-IWXwV6ONf2OuRIW6JozTzFZTRIMo5cLyxKiQdoQAyrOW89G7x-8fZW4t68fqTV6EVhfjgUZj2l_AInye7ZLQ1KTSvWSagUb_ZtUYP9bLyrBxnHEhGBuEtA/s1600/_MG_3208.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHdRyVwvIxdF-D-CS3E3v-IWXwV6ONf2OuRIW6JozTzFZTRIMo5cLyxKiQdoQAyrOW89G7x-8fZW4t68fqTV6EVhfjgUZj2l_AInye7ZLQ1KTSvWSagUb_ZtUYP9bLyrBxnHEhGBuEtA/s400/_MG_3208.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464939339637012914" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlW2rW8yaIhii2vyqF8wTl8UUYJmCT-d3jCxnsp5RYIutqMC99vEjoQXNN-kmegGgFmXkGpcEfL4KvffZM4Orqv0Y0L12bGwrFru835UNx7nx_nyGKmmD1gEIoZwXFW4fcGZUebZc9A/s1600/_MG_2519.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlW2rW8yaIhii2vyqF8wTl8UUYJmCT-d3jCxnsp5RYIutqMC99vEjoQXNN-kmegGgFmXkGpcEfL4KvffZM4Orqv0Y0L12bGwrFru835UNx7nx_nyGKmmD1gEIoZwXFW4fcGZUebZc9A/s400/_MG_2519.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464939327076851506" border="0" /></a>Julia Harissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03095248076847799584noreply@blogger.com0