Abigail Bosphorus Blue
On my way to Miró
Or inside the poetry-machine
Through Jeanne’s beautiful images I met a poetry machine…and it was only the day before yesterday.
A poetry machine – the harmony out of dissonance, the oxymoron, the beloved irony
…agitation of our concepts…
And the joy that poetry-machine and Jeanne’s beautiful images brought.
And yesterday when I stepped into the elevator to reach Miró exhibition, I felt as if I am inside a poetry-machine. The elevator was covered by Miró’s paintings and prints inside and out, but there was something more…that I cannot name. Something more that turns the simple elevator into a poetry-machine.
I told Jeanne my wish on cities having poetry-machines and time-machines. And then I found a poetry-machine in İstanbul! Perhaps tomorrow I will also find a time-machine!:o)
On my way to Miró
Or inside the poetry-machine
Through Jeanne’s beautiful images I met a poetry machine…and it was only the day before yesterday.
A poetry machine – the harmony out of dissonance, the oxymoron, the beloved irony
…agitation of our concepts…
And the joy that poetry-machine and Jeanne’s beautiful images brought.
And yesterday when I stepped into the elevator to reach Miró exhibition, I felt as if I am inside a poetry-machine. The elevator was covered by Miró’s paintings and prints inside and out, but there was something more…that I cannot name. Something more that turns the simple elevator into a poetry-machine.
I told Jeanne my wish on cities having poetry-machines and time-machines. And then I found a poetry-machine in İstanbul! Perhaps tomorrow I will also find a time-machine!:o)