Rhoda

We launch out now over the precipice. Beneath us lie the lights of the herring fleet. The cliffs vanish. Rippling small, rippling grey, innumerable waves spread beneath us. I touch nothing. I see nothing. We may sink and settle on the waves. The sea will drum in my ears. The white petals will be darkened with sea water. They will float for a moment and then sink. Rolling me over the waves will shoulder me under. Everything falls in a tremendous shower, dissolving me.

The Waves, Virginia Woolf

Setanta anys

March 28, 1941

Dearest,

I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel we can't go through another of those terrible times. And I shan't recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can't concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don't think two people could have been happier 'til this terrible disease came. I can't fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can't even write this properly. I can't read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that — everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can't go on spoiling your life any longer. I don't think two people could have been happier than we have been.

V.

The sun rose higher

Blue waves
Green waves
Faint black rim
Something green
Lump of emerald
Cave of pure green
White table-cloths
Gold wires
Green veined
White walls

(Petits detalls trets de) The Waves, Virgina Woolf

The sun had not yet risen

Grey cloth
White water
Glass green
White sediment
Flat bars of white, green, and yellow
Green surface
Red and yellow fibres
Grey sky
A million atoms of soft blue
Sea blazed gold
White blind
Blue fingerprint

(Petits detalls trets de) The Waves, Virgina Woolf

La Virginia parla

The history of men's oppostion to women's emancipation is more interesting perhaps than the story of that emancipation itself.

A Room of One's Own, Virginia Woolf

Carai quin salt!

Tu, saltador que saltes salts!

Tu, grimpador professional!

Tu, amic per sempre ambulant

que et defineixes pels teus salts!

Que fàcil tot!

Que bé que estàs!

En els teus ulls il·luminats

ja s’intueix la immensitat

de tot un món al teu abast


El gran salt - Manel

Les primeres paraules

Fa 6 anys vaig escriure el meu primer poema. Recordo on era quan vaig posar sobre el paper el primer vers. Es va obrir un món dins meu. El vaig escriure sense por. I també sense tècnica, sense pensar en el ritme, sense buscar la paraula més precisa. Potser no es pot considerar poesia. M'és ben igual. Després tot et ve el damunt i arriba un punt on ja ni t'atreveixes a posar-te davant d'un full en blanc amb la intenció de crear. Trobo a faltar aquella llibertat, la més important; la que em regalava a mi mateixa.

El so de l'amistat

Shhh, no parlis, tan sols escolta’m,
i si les meves paraules no t’arriben,
tranquil•la, no escoltis, tan sols mira’m.
Els meus ulls,
els veus brillants? Els veus grisos?
No pots veure la meva ràbia i la meva pena?
No pots veure la meva felicitat i la meva alegria?
Doncs tranquil•la, no em miris, tan sols abraça’m.
Amb la meva abraçada pots saber com em sento,
pots entendre el que t’estic demanant,
pots sentir el que t'estic dient.
Ara sí, contesta’m,
contesta’m amb el silenci de l’amistat,
tranquil•la, jo l’entendré.

Nocturn

Tantes pors entremig d'un crepuscle i un altre.

Feliu Formosa

Happiness

I remember one morning getting up at dawn...there was such a sense of possibility. You know that feeling? And I remember thinking to myself: so this is the beginning of happiness...this is where it starts...and of course there will always be more! It never occurred to me it wasn’t the beginning...it was happiness. It was the moment, right then.

Clarissa, The Hours (2002)