Nyt on yö. Minä kuljen yksin tyhjiä katuja. En tiedä, mihin olen menossa, hyvä kun tiedän mistä olen tulossa, ja ruumiissani soi tuhat kaunista ja voimakasta sävelmää, minun koko menneisyyteni, ja silmissäni loistavat tuhannen ihmisen silmät, silmien takana tuntemattomuus, tätä naista ei tunne kukaan, se ei ole vielä täysin syntynytkään, ei kukaan tiedä mitä se on tulevaisuudessa.
- Mirka Lattunen
El a întins spre mine o frunză ca o mână cu degete. Eu am întins spre el o mână ca o frunză cu dinţi. El a întins spre mine o ramură ca un braţ. Eu am întins spre el braţul ca o ramură. El schi-a înclinat spre mine trunchiul ca un umăr. Eu mi-am înclinat spre el umărul ca un trunchi noduros. Auzeam cum se încetineşte sângele meu suind ca seva. Eu am trecut prin el. El a trecut prin mine. Eu am rămas un pom singur. El un om singur
- Nichita Stănescu
Kunst ist nicht ein Spiegel, den man der Wirklichkeit vorhält, sondern ein Hammer, mit dem man sie gestaltet.
- Karl Marx
The Hermit’s Song
A hiding tuft, a green-barked yew tree Is my roof, While nearby a great oak tree keeps me Tempest-proof.
I can pick my fruit from an apple Like an Inn, Or can fill my fist where hazels Shut me in.
A clear well beside me offers Best of drink, And there glows a bed of cresses Near its brink.
Pigs and Goats, the friendliest neighbours, Nestle near, Wild swine come, or broods of badgers, Grazing deer.
All the gentry of the county Come to call! And the foxes come behind them, Best of all.
To what meals the woods invite me All about! There are water, herbs and cresses, Salmon, trout.
A clutch of eggs, sweet mast and honey Are my meat, Heathberries and Whortleberries For a sweet.
All that one could ask for comfort Round me grows, There are hips and haws and strawberries, Nuts and sloes.
And when summer spreads its mantle What a sight! Marjoram and leeks and pignuts, Juicy, bright.
Dainty redbreasts briskly forage Every bush Round and round my hut there flutter Shallow, thrush.
Bees and beetles, music-makers, Croon and strum; Geese pass over, duck in autumn, Dark streams hum.
Angry wren, officious linnet And black-cap, All industrious, and the woodpecker’s Sturdy tap.
From the sea the gulls and herons Flutter in, While in upland heather rises The grey hen.
In the year’s most brilliant weather Heifers low Through green fields, not driven nor beaten, Tranquil, slow.
In wreathed boughs the wind is whispering, Skies are blue, Swans call, river water falling Is calling too.
MSN search must be really crappy, because someone apparently got here by searching for "pics%20of%20girls%20eating%20cum%20xxx" ... There sure are no *pictures* of that around here ...
Anyway, last week I went to the University hospital in Lund to have the tests done on the nameless thing in my left breast. They didn't want to take any X-rays "because I was so young", but they did ultrasound. Judging from the shapes on the grainy screen (even grainier than my TV), while the nurse kept trying to cover my other breast with a towel, the doctor said that it was most likely to be some completely harmless connective tissue mutation. Of course, he couldn't say that for sure, so they also had to take a sample of the thing.
After waiting a couple of hours, I lay down on a bunk, and a nurse and a Polish and/or Jewish little doctor bent over me. The doctor took a really big needle, and the nurse took a firm grip of my hand. She kept asking me if I was all right all the time, as if it was something horrible somehow that the doctor was rooting around in my breast with this giant needle. What's a little bit of physical pain?! The only thing that possibly distressed me at that moment was that the nurse was holding my hand (I don't like it when humans touch me ... *shudder*). Or maybe she was afraid that I'd try to fight myself loose and escape or something.
Well, on Wednesday or so I'm going to call the doctor I saw first, in Kävlinge, to hear the results (of course, the doctor won't call *me*, but I'll have to call *her* - that's how it works in today's capitalist world).