deborah zafman dans le cadre de frasq, rencontre de la performance,
a le plaisir de vous inviter à une série évolutive d’action/danse
Christine Renée Graz/Lasdada : Corps en Papouasie
...la danse donne à lire les zones du réel et de l'imaginaire, les espaces du concept et de la magie...
Ouverture le samedi 10 octobre à partir de 18h
Deux semaines de performances, tous les jours (du mardi au samedi) à 18h30
Clôture le samedi 24 octobre à partir de 18h
www.frasq.com
Hola Deborah, me he inventado un inglés de juguete
RépondreSupprimerFair of my awakening to this new dream
Your name Eve of a sunrise is Echo or Mirror
you turn in the unknown in order to sleep out from this Error of Dream
so you take me to the candle as I see my face in you as for Moonrise
We've talked, we have practiced Peace
as I love to put at your feet when you piss
God is fat enough to be respectable
and you will see it's Him
the angel of idolatry, the top of my thinks.
Tough is the fight with God
and if He were not in love with me,
he the splendid mirror of my illusion
the giver of truth,
he will transform me in a deadly flower.
To asume the consequences of my acts,
in this hyeroglyphical of dream,
was a path of Winter Time,
honored by snow and the flash of extreme Cold,
but you are a charm on this path
some deer light of sight on the movement,
some healing heart of some far spot representing a monastery
some company of the pilgrim
waking up in the grass,
by diamonds of the farewell made pure Beauty.
This is the Milky Way of repentance and joy
the trip to reality.
As the warrior of fair keeps in walk
she gets the memory of love on the feathers of her helm
so as when, for the first time,
she surrendered to a story teller
in the fight and the bleeding of fair
to hear her own story preached along by a stranger
without God and cursed,
an artist living of rain and sun
feeling wind in the borders of the road.
This was the story I told to fair Eve
of how we met and I became her poet,
and the painter of miraculous legs and shoulders,
the sticking with her genius. A comet
in fact kickly leaves
to the orders of Fortune, may the cursed say.
Stylish fairs desappear
taking back their gifts.
In a babylonic shopping list
the hours and days of each planet
are painted to forget,
you should never have the bright
of these sunny shots of sex.
You will have cender on a canvas,
but so recent enough to light your fire.
So I'm singing with monks
gingle belling and smoking night cigarettes
Uccellini
time invisible flight of understanding
the monks and the birds of Venus, pigeons,
smile to me, with the old feathers
looking grey
and looking great to my walk as they flash.
:
O este otro
RépondreSupprimer*
Stylish works on science-fiction turn fair Peaceful into mad insanity and old extraterrestrians becomed healthy dogs fade out on the air leaving a wave of suspicion.
Je trouve fascinant le metier de psychiatre L’écriture d’un cas clinique, ou d’un dossier médical, ressemble à l’écriture d’un roman ou d’un évangile, ce qui revient à la fausseté de toute écriture.
Influenced by the stranger she feels no more terrestrial.
Et dès l’avion de combat de ses rêves, elle cible les coeurs tout en maintenant l’enemi en vie.
Une panne générale est comme une célebration d’une vie qui marche trop bien, la psychose règle les comptes à l’intérieur ou à l’exterieur,
and how much battles has not been winner fair Peaceful ? Somebody turned far away the warmer and the knight of nonchalance was not ready to push out his clothes, but to alow some head on it to be straight and a sort of idiot in saintity. This knight understood the roll of the fair, being alone, and so he made a solitude of the presence of love.
Arriving at the age of forty Seconds as fly of the air in the eye another fair has been young enough to be a kind lover and to be old enough to forgive herself for a lack of bright.
Or is it the same fair, a two headed maiden that is getting old ? Terror of Mars, more influent in Peaceful fair, represented by a dream, than stylish science-fiction of late atomic in war affairs where she wins all along the front line, some emotion of green, of grass leaves as hair of the martian.
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