flaneuring

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I walked the entire length of every street in the 20 arrondissements of Paris. I took lots of photos of graffiti as well as strange and unique things that caught my eye. This is part 7 in this series. To see previous parts of this series go to my page titled Walking All Paris.

This is how I did the walk. This is one of many pages of the Paris map that I used. I drew out 1 continuous line making sure that it eventually traveled the entire length of each street. Then I followed the line!

Curve tag at the bottom! Curve TGE is an amazing writer from the United States.

Chad Muska tag! He is a legendary pro skater that got busted writing his own name, haha.

Cool tile art!

Paris graffiti legends Horfe, Cony, Keno, and Tomek, PAL crew.

A really cool old entry way with a beautiful church behind it.


A boat cleaning the canal.

A secret fountain I found in a courtyard.

A plaque for the Iconic French singer Edith Piaf. If you have never heard of her you must listen! She is so full of emotion, this song always makes me tear up:


(ήθελα)

(ήθελα)
θέλω
να βάλω
τα δάχτυλα μου
(αυτά που τόσο λατρεύεις)
στο στόμα σου
και να ξεριζώσω
απ’ το λαρύγγι σου
όλες τις λέξεις
που δεν έχεις μοιραστεί
ακόμα
μαζί μου

(ήθελα)

E la vide abbassare gli occhi per non farsene accorgere, e poi ancora, sconfitta e fatale, ritornare con gli occhi negli occhi che la sorpresero a guardare. Guardarsi, estirparsi l’anima, entrarsi dentro, dipingersi addosso i pensieri più segreti.
—  Luigi Mancini - Un bacio in sospeso
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This is part 6 of my walking Barcelona series. I am walking the entire length of every street in Barcelona. I leave my mark at least once on each street to say “I walked there.” As I walk I take photos of graffiti and other things that catch my eye. Previous parts in this series can be found at my page titled ‘Walking all Barcelona’. Click ‘keep reading’ to see photos from this walk.

Keep reading

MEDELLÍN

Medellín está encerrada por dos brazos de montañas. Un abrazo topográfico que nos encierra a todos en un mismo espacio. Siempre se sueña con lo que hay detrás de las montañas aunque nos cueste desarraigarnos de este hueco; es una relación de amor y odio, con sentimientos más hacia una mujer que hacia una ciudad. Medellín es como esas matronas de antaño; llena de hijos, rezandera, piadosa y posesiva, pero también es madre seductora, puta, exuberante y fulgurosa. El que se va vuelve, el que reniega se retracta, el que la insulta se disculpa y el que la agrede las paga. Algo muy extraño nos sucede con ella, porque a pesar del miedo que nos mete, de las ganas de largarnos que todos alguna vez hemos tenido, a pesar de haberla matado muchas veces, Medellín siempre termina ganando. 

(1er parrado del 10mo capitulo de Rosario Tijeras)  .

Originally posted by elamormasgrandelplaneta

Valletta is a tiny capital city really. You can walk right across the peninsula in a matter of 10 or 12 minutes. Funny thing is that people tend to stick to the main roads; they huddle together and scour each and every shop they encounter, they stop and chat, they grab a coffee, and sometimes they veer towards a public space in search of a free Wifi connection. 

The side streets, or the outskirts of the city belong to the locals, the explorers, the wanderers and the flaneurs. I guess, each of those descriptions could or would suit me. Because, in all honesty, every spare moment is an occasion - an opportunity to switch off, change mode, and embrace my inner tourist - a side of my personality which is constantly gnawing at my insides, begging to be released. 

This green and red door - seemingly abandoned - are found in one such side street, a deliciously short and inclined stretch of road which is unspoiled, which remains untouched. It is one of a few spots which I gravitate towards whenever I crave some familiarity, and some oneness with the city.

Valletta, Malta

A GIFT (that’s Bahorel and Bossuet)

AAAAH THIS IS SO FANTASTIC  look at these flaneuring goofballs being all chatty and Aggressively Not in Class, oh gosh I can HEAR their voices shifting into Gossip Mode, their expressions are WONDERFUL and look at all the details in their clothes, Bossuet’s coat is wonderful and it has EMBROIDERY and Bahorel’s waistcoat is an excellent thing

I’M SO HAPPY THANK YOUUUU *flails around*

Hidden Life of Laneways
Architecture M-arch Thesis , 
Dublin, Ireland

Reem Al-sabah


The Hidden life of Lanes is a series of laneway interventions to create a pedestrian permeability.The work is based in Dublin and is sparked by Flora Mitchell’s Vanishing Dublin (1966), in which the painter illustrates atmospheric scenes of street life of that time.

Using Devices (Ground, Wall, Open Court, Walled garden, Arcade, Market) to allow the flaneur to drift through the city with curiosity and intuition, a decision is made to pause, to turn, to stop, to look, to seek sanctuary in the enclosed garden,undiscovered until now, to observe and engage with the transitory and vibrant city.
Μισό λεπτό, κάτι γράφω

Άρχισα να συλλέγω λεπτά

από μικρό παιδί. Γιατί όχι άλλωστε? Άλλοι συλλέγουν πεταλούδες, κοχύλια, έργα τέχνης

παλιά κόμιξ

εγώ συλλέγω λεπτά.

Θλιμμένα, ψυχοφθόρα, μίζερα, νεκρά λεπτά.

~

Το πάθος μου γεννήθηκε στο σχολείο.

Τα πρώτα κομμάτια της συλλογής μου, εκεί τα απέκτησα.

Εκείνα τα ατελείωτα λεπτά, λίγο πριν το κουδούνι σημάνει για διάλειμμα.

Ένα ένα. Προσεκτικά.

~

Καμιά φορά, που ο διπλανός μου αφοσιώνοταν στο μάθημα

μέχρι το τελευταίο λεπτό

έκλεβα και τα δικά του.

~

Στην αρχή, τα κρατούσα στις τσέπες της φόρμας μου,

μα χανόντουσαν καθώς παίζαμε μπάλα στην αυλή.

Ούτε που καταλαβαίνεις πως χάνεται ο χρόνος όταν παίζεις.

Και που να τρέχεις να τα μαζεύεις…

(ειδικά αν είσαι τερματοφύλακας)

~

Αργότερα, ξεκίνησα να τα φυλάω σε μια παλιά μου κασετίνα

που είχε απ’ έξω μια ζωγραφιά με τους πάουερ ρέιτζερς να πολεμάνε έναν κακό.

~

Όσο μεγάλωνα, η συλλογή μου πλούτιζε.

Ανακάλυψα κάποιες βασικές αρχές ενός συλλέκτη.

Παραδείγματος χάριν: να αποζητάς την ποιότητα, όχι την ποσότητα.

~

Το πάθος μου, έμεινε για πάντοτε κρυφό απ’ όλους. Ήμουν, άλλωστε, πολύ προσεκτικός.

~

Το να είσαι μεγάλος, ανοίγει συναρπαστικούς νέους ορίζοντες

για να ικανοποιήσει κανείς την εν λόγω δραστηριότητα.

Άρχισα να μαζεύω τα γκρίζα λεπτά που κυλούσαν στα κόκκινα φανάρια, τις ουρές, τη σκοπιά, τις αίθουσες αναμονής, τις αϋπνίες, τους αυτόματους τηλεφωνητές.

Τα λεπτά που αργούσα στη δουλειά, και τα ατελείωτα μέχρι να σχολάσω.

Κάθε ανούσιο λεπτό μπροστά στον καθρέφτη

έως ότου γίνω ευπρεπής, και ευπαρουσίαστος.

Κάθε αναμονή

κάθε αναβολή στο ξυπνητήρι

και κάθε αναβολή στο ξυπνητήρι του γείτονα.

~

Όλα τα “περιμένετε ένα λεπτό, σας παρακαλώ”

που εκφέρονται από ένα ανέκφραστο πρόσωπο.

“Το αφεντικό θα σας δει σε ένα λεπτό”.

“Ο γιατρός θα σας δει σε ένα λεπτό”.

“Μισό λεπτό, και θα σας εξυπηρετήσουμε”.

“Επιστρέφω σε ένα λεπτό”.

~

Τα φυλούσα πλέον σε βαζάκια, με μια ετικέτα έξω απ’ το καθένα

διαφορετικό

ανά χρονολογία, ανά τύπο, ανά μέγεθος, ανά σημαντικότητα.

Σημείωνα στις ετικέτες λέξεις φαινομενικά παράλογες

όπως: “Ρομπέν των δασών”. ή, “Η αιωνιότητα”. ή, σε ένα μικροσκοπικό, “Φρύνοι”.

Μοναχά εγώ ήξερα τι σημαίνει το καθένα.

~

Μαζί σου, η συλλογή μου εμπλουτίστηκε με ένα νέο βαζάκι.

Εκείνο με το πράσινο καπάκι. Που σε παρακάλεσα να μην ανοίξεις ποτέ.

Δεν ξέρεις τι θα ξεπηδήσει από μέσα. Με τέτοια πράγματα, καλό είναι να φυλάγεσαι άλλωστε…

~

Εκεί, τοποθέτησα όλα τα δικά σου λεπτά.

Εκείνα τα βιαστικά, που ήθελα να ξαπλώσω δίπλα σου, λίγο ακόμη

μα έπρεπε να σηκωθώ και να ετοιμαστώ για τη δουλειά.

Τα ατελείωτα λεπτά που περίμενα να μου απαντήσεις σε κάποιο μήνυμα

και

τα λεπτά που τελείωναν στην κάρτα, και δεν μπορούσα να σου μιλήσω άλλο.

(δεν είχα και φράγκα να βάλω άλλη).

Και

τα δέκα λεπτά που σε περίμενα

στο πρώτο μας ραντεβού.

Το καλύτερο κομμάτι της συλλογής.

~

Τα τελευταία χρόνια, την διεύρυνα ακόμη περισσότερο.

Τεχνολογία, σου λέει.

Μαζεύω με αφοσίωση λεπτά από την τηλεόραση

και το διαδίκτυο.

Κάθε φορά που παρακολουθώ στις ειδήσεις

“τις συναρπαστικές εξελίξεις

λεπτό προς λεπτό”

θάνατοι, καταστροφές, αστυνομικές επιχειρήσεις,

συλλήψεις, αυτοκτονίες,

γέννησε η Μενεγάκη.

Χαμός.

Μπήκε γκολ στο τελευταίο λεπτό.

Κι εκεί που περιμένω να τελειώσει η γαμοδιαφήμιση τους στο youtube

“Μη χάνεις λεπτό”. “Βλέπεις διαφορά, απ’ το πρώτο κιόλας λεπτό”

“Απέκτησε λεπτή σιλουέτα στο λεπτό”.

(και γαμώ τα λογοπαίγνια).

~

Μαζεύονται, που λες, αυτά τα λεπτά.

Αργά, αλλά με αγάπη

και αφοσίωση.

Και κάποια στιγμή, τα λεπτά αυτά

θα γίνουν ώρα.

~

Θα είναι η ώρα

που θα τους πάρει ο διάολος.

anonymous asked:

This UA has 16k follower and 19 tweets and was created on the release day of his album lol. Let's not believe UAs after H kept everything under wraps so far, how would they know how many singles he plans to release lol

Interesting!!

I kind of do think Carolina will be the next single, though, after all their work in promoting it. It’s a radio-friendly summer song, and a contrast to SOTT.

If so, I hope there’s a psychedelic video to go with it. I am so ready for something well done. Even if it’s Harry and his band playing in their Hawaiian shirts à la The Beach Boys ca. 1965. Or one of those great Beck music videos where he’s a flaneur encountering all sorts of odd characters on the streets. So much possibility! I am ready.

10 Best Books Set In Paris

Paris’s standing as a literary destination is legendary. The city was not only important in nurturing and inspiring the French literary canon − it was also an important centre for the European avant-garde for well over half a century. Often writers came to Paris to escape prohibition, overzealous moralism, and censorship at home. It was an exciting place to be, and the relatively cheap living costs meant that writers (especially American) had the freedom to live as they pleased.

Whether it was the Lost Generation of Ernest Hemingway, John Dos Passos, e.e. cummings, and F. Scott Fitzgerald, or the Beat Generation of William Burroughs, Jack Kerouac, Alain Ginsburg, and Gregory Corso, writers found Paris a suitable setting and fertile ground for their greatest works. We have picked a selection of books we think you should have packed for those heavenly Parisian moments when you can take a breather and sit at a sunny café terrace or lounge in a shaded park. There’s no better way to get a real feel for a city and its culture than through its literature.

Notre-Dame de Paris by Victor Hugo

It’s difficult not to allude to the great romantic, Victor Hugo, when speaking about Paris. Even if you haven’t read anything by Hugo, characters like Quasimodo are easily evoked by the popular imagination when visiting Paris’s famous cathedral. His book about Notre-Dame is said to have sparked new interest in the cathedral, which had fallen into disrepair after its vandalism during the French Revolution.

The Flaneur by Edmund White

American novelist, Edmund White, lived in Paris for a number of years and elegantly dishes the dirt on the paradoxes of Parisian life. Filled with anecdote, fascinating history, and gossip, this is the ideal book to have on hand for those who want to scratch the surface of Paris’s polished varnish and peer underneath.

Bel Ami by Guy de Maupassant

Regarded as Guy de Maupassant’s masterpiece, this novel is set in late 19th century Paris. It tracks the swift rise of its handsome male protagonist George Duroy, from humble railway bureaucrat to one of Paris’s most wealthy and successful men. A fascinating insight into French society at the height of its economic powers, Bel Ami is a cautionary tale of immorality, greed, and fast living.

A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway

Ernest Hemingway’s novel is the blueprint for any writer coming to live in Paris. His famous lines are indelibly printed on the consciousness of those who seek the romantic Paris of late night drinking and early morning writing. “If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life it stays with you, Paris is a moveable feast”.

Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin

Baldwin’s book about a young writer living in Paris during the 50s is a poignant drama with a tragic denouement. Like many African-American writers and musicians, Baldwin came to Paris to escape racism and oppression at home. His sparse prose is a sad ode to the inescapable beauty of Paris.

Nana by Emile Zola

The Parisian novel par excellence, Zola’s novel recounts the intrigues of an irresistible Parisian courtesan feted and pursued by the most handsome and powerful men of France’s Second Empire.

Père Goriot by Honoré de Balzac

Balzac, the veritable giant of French letters, consecrated a large part his oeuvre to the fictional lives of Parisians during the first half of the 19th century. His novel Père Goriot, written in 1835, follows the exploits of three principal characters whose lives intertwine: naive law student Eugène de Rastignac, the elderly Goriot, and the shady criminal Vautrin. Much of the action at the beginning of this novel takes place at the Palais-Royal.

Chéri by Colette

Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette’s novel is about an older woman’s love affair with a younger man. It is not a far cry from the author’s real life in which she led an affair with her stepson when she was in her 50s. Later in life she lived in an apartment in the elegant Palais-Royal.

Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller

An unflinchingly candid portrayal of Miller’s “nomadic life” in Paris during the 1930s, the Tropic of Cancer still shocks for its graphic descriptions of sex.

The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas by Gertrude Stein

Gertrude Stein wrote this novel in the guise of her lover Alice B. Toklas, it recounts the years they spent together in Paris, Italy, and England, before and after the First World War. As a first hand account of some of the people who formed Stein’s close-knit intellectual circle it is amusing and at times revelatory. Picasso, Matisse, and Ernest Hemingway all make an appearance.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

αλλοτρίωση είναι:

να δουλεύω
και
να μην προλαβαίνω
να σ’ αγγίξω

παρά μονάχα τη στιγμή
που θα σου σερβίρω τον καφέ

The flâneuses I found, the ones I wrote my book about, go walking in cities, but often with a purpose: to throw off the weight of their families, their husbands, their social roles, to explore who or what they can be, traveling around the world feeding off the chemical reaction, the flinting spark, provoked by the encounter with the foreign city. Flâneuserie—to coin a term—is about women moving from being looked at to looking. Through movement, we assert our subjectivity. The journalist Martha Gellhorn’s travel writing and war reporting, for example, is an engaged form of flânerie: she passionately believes that what she sees must be told. But how does she see it? By wandering around cities, reporting not on the great currents of history, but on everyday human life, writing “from the ground up.” The flâneuse is someone who gets to know the city by wandering its streets, investigating its dark corners, peering behind its facades, penetrating its secret courtyards. Rather than wandering aimlessly, like the flâneur, the most salient characteristic of the flâneuse is that she goes where she’s not supposed to.

I believe Hermès’s artistic director when he says that, in the nineteenth century, the flâneur challenged commercialized ways of being in the world. But today, as the flâneur is co-opted out from under us, the flâneuse is the more radical idea.

—  “Radical Flâneuserie” by Lauren Elkin for The Paris Review