"The Children of Lir" legenda si proiectul

"The Children of Lir

In Celtic Ireland there lived a king called Lir, who had four children named Fionnula and Aodh, Fiachra and Con. Their mother, the queen, was dead and the children missed her terribly. The king saw that the children were sad and needed a mother, so he decided to marry again. His new bride was called Aoife. She was beautiful but she was not the kind-hearted person the king thought she was. Their mother used to tuck them into bed every night before she died.

Aoife grew jealous of the four children because their father loved them so much. She wanted the king all to herself so she planned to get rid of them. She asked a druid to help her and together they thought up a terrible spell. One day Aoife went to the lake where the children loved to play and she cast a terrible spell over them. There was a flash of light and the children vanished and turned into four beautiful swans. One of the swans opened its beak and spoke with Fionnula’s voice: “What have you done to us?” “I have put a spell on you and you will be swans for nine hundred years. You will spend three hundred years on this lake, three hundred on the Sea of Moyle and three hundred on the Isle of Glora. Only the sound of a church bell can break the spell,” replied Aoife.

When the children did not come home that evening, the king went looking for them by the lake. He was amazed when one swan called out. “Father, father, we are your children. Aoife has placed a terrible spell on us.” The king went back to the castle and pleaded with Aoife to break the spell but she refused. He decided to banish her from his kingdom. Lir spent the rest of his days beside the lake talking to his children until he grew old and died.

The king spends his days talking to his children!
Three hundred years passed and it was time for the swans to move to the cold and stormy Sea of Moyle between Ireland and Scotland. The poor swans were tossed about by the wild waves. It was a hard life with little food and years passed slowly.

The swans are cold and hungry in the Sea of Moyle.
When the time came for them to fly to the Isle of Glora, the swans were old and tired. Although it was warmer on the island and there was lots of food they were still lonely. Then one day they heard the sound they had waited for. It was the sound of a church bell.

The bell was ringing in the tower of a little church. An old man called Caomhog stood outside. He was amazed to hear the swans talking and listened to their sad story. He brought out some holy water, which he sprinkled on the swans while he prayed. As soon as the water touched them they changed into old people. They soon died and Caomhog buried them."

Textul il gasiti in original urmand link-ul de mai jos. Tot acolo o sa o gasiti si minunata imagine care a inspirat-o de Maebh Costello in conceperea unui proiect numit The Children of Lir


http://www.behance.net/Gallery/Children-of-Lir/455887

Alte ideii indraznete si multa creativitate: http://www.behance.net/

Gandurile acestei duminici au capatat o noua dimensiune.

Enjoy your day...

people....books....

in poza este el,Gabriel Garcia Marquez

zilele astea m-a lovit o pofta de citit...am devorat fara mila 2 carti deja(urmeaza sa povestesc) si as avea un chef nebun de Toamna patriarhului ...unele zile vin cu cartile si cu nevoile lor...lista este lunga si asteapta atatea titluri sa le dau o mica sansa...

poza, nu radeti, am luat-o de aici

the city, my city...

Ador orasul Iasi. Nicaieri nu m-am simtit mai liber si mai sigur. Nicaieri nu am visat cu ochii deschisi mai colorat si mai aventuros ca in acest oras. Coborand astazi spre Rapa Galbena, toata strada Arcului cufundata fiind in intuneric, ma simteam ca o vietate surprinsa intr-un loc total necunoscut. Cerul cernuse mai devreme fulgi de zapada. Tot cerul, mi-a oferit astazi o splendida zi de primaiarna(vara): frig de dimineata cu un vant ascutit care biciuia trecatori rataciti, ploaie rece la pranz(visatorii sunt sigur ca s-au pus pe ganduri si au luat tramvaiul dorintelor tarzii pana sus in Copou), undeva pe la ora 2-3 a iesit dintre nori un soare care m-a pus in alerta...chiar vine primavara?, iar spre finalul zilei,am avut parte de un alegro cu fulgi de zapada.

Stau culcusit in patul meu, adapostit fiind de furia cu care oamenii circula pe strazi. Multimea se izbeste de ziduri, se grabeste pe trecerile de pietoni, alearga pe strazi haotic...multimea navaleste pe strazi, urca in autobuze, se inghesuie in tramvaie. Orasul suporta cu stoicism furia locuitorilor sai. Ei, inghesuiti in cutiile lor, ca niste gandaci de colorado, migreaza nelisnistiti de la un capat al orasului spre celalat capat.

Dimineata, in autobuzul 46 am vazut cel mai frumos tablou al acestei zile:pe partea cealalta de strada a trecut un alt autobuz...in unul din geamuri se oglindea chipul unei fete, era atat de departe gandul ei, incat, toata fiinta ei parea inchisa intr-o masca de liniste si impacare pe care de mult nu am mai vazut-o la cineva...cu capul un pic lasat spre umarul ei drept, cu ochii larg deschisi, o vedeam pe ea si sunt sigur ca ea vedea prin mine...privirea ei desenase un orizont pe care numai ea putea sa-l vada, mintea ei, crease pentru bucuriia fiintei interioarenu un vis pe care il traia libera chiar in acel moment...nu cred ca am vazut ceva mai senin toata ziua...

Incercati un experiment in noptile senine(noptile de primavara si cele de vara) care vor veni: iesiti afara la ore tarzii din noapte si ascultati orasul; tanguirea lui va va alina, veti adormi apoi linistiti,prinsi intr-un cantec nesoptit si mangaiati de o mana invizibila...

Cum iti tai unghiile in autobuzul 46?

Raspunsul dragii mei este foarte simplu: CU GRIJA!!!

Imi cer scuze masei de oameni care va dori sa ma linseze pentru nelegiuirea produsa de atingerea acestui subiect, foarte delicat de altfel, dar sunt inca in stare de soc dupa batalia de dimineata. Cum care batalie....voi nu cititi nimic din ce scriu eu? M-am batut cu unghiile vrajmase care vroiau sa-mi scoata ochii. Nu erau unghiile mele, erau ale unui vecin de autobuz care, plecat in fuga din barlog, a crezut necesar sa-si faca de cap, ma rog, de unghii, in autobuz.

Eu sunt o fire superstitioasa si una din superstitiile preferate este cea legata de taierea diferitelor componente ale corpului in ziua de luni. Bine ca nu sunt doctor sau cuafeza (o sa ma fac postarita, remember?) ca mureau oamenii sau ramaneau nepieptanati/coafati/pensati etc. Superstitia ar avea ca finalitatea vorbirea de rau de catre certe persoane a implicatului in actiunea de taiere. Lucru care se si intampla acum, nu-i asa? Nenea cu unghiile, sa-ti fie de bine!!!!

I-am aplicat lu' nenea o uitatura urata (l-a lovit sigur, de aia se legana pe picioare...glumesc, gropile si autobuzul il faceau sa se legene) si am coborat rapid.

Nu stiu daca ceilalti pasageri au supravietuit ororii si calatoriei!!!

Saptamana buna sa aveti!!!