Jan 31 -
According to Brueghel
When Icarus fell
it was Spring.
A farmer was ploughing his field
The whole pageantry of the year
was tingling near
The edge of the sea
concerned with itself
Sweating in the sun
that melted the wings’ wax
Insignificantly off the coast
There was a splash quite unnoticed
This was Icarus drowning.
—William Carlos Williams, The Landscape with the Fall of Icarus
(“Landscape with the Fall of Icarus,” painting in oil on canvas)
This space is Steffi Sales' way of immortalizing her thoughts in the interwebs. And perhaps, her attempt to create new narratives. As you will probably notice, she loves to write, take photographs, immerse herself in literature, and listen to particularly obscure forms of music. In five years, she hopes to have learned how to cook, make her own music, and transform her thoughts into short documentary films. "La vraie vie est aileurs." --Arthur Rimbaud ("The true life is absent.") Archive Twitter
