View allAll Photos Tagged clockwork
A veces me mueve el miedo
Cuando entre sueños diviso tu figura
Y entre penumbras presiento
El sitio hostíl de la locura..
Más.. despierto sobre arena...
Cuando el reloj se envenena
Y desparrama su esencia
Con auténtica bravúra..
Es cuando la mitología golpea
Con el viento y la marea
Trazando un límite invisíble
En ese río que es el tiempo..
Que te deja sin aliento..!
Con su vehemente frescura
Y abrazando la amargura..
Color miel de tu recuerdo..
A CLOCKWORK ORANGE
Von Anthony Burgess
Deutsche Übersetzung: Bruno Max
Regie: Gabriel S. Zimmerer
Bühne: Besim Morina
Kostüme: Anna Vyshnyakova
Dramaturgie: Benjamin von Wyl
Mit: Martin Butzke, Maximilian Kraus
An interactive light art installation by NYP School of Design (Singapore) at the Bayfront Event Space, Marina Bay during the iLight Marina Bay 2016.
The pendulum and clockwork of the Zytglogge Tower in Bern, Switzerland.
We were enjoying a much less crowded than usual tour through the interior of the Zytglogge Tower here in Bern - built in 1218-1220 and probably the most important building of the entire town from a historical point of view.
The clockwork was constructed in 1530 and has been mostly running ever since, the pendulum (alledgedly a mortar ball from the Murten war in 1476) was added around 1690-1712. After all, Galileo only discovered pendulums half a century after the clock was first built...
You used to be like clockwork.
The hour struck and you were all hands.
Up in my business.
Always coming from the top,
Not so subtly.
And my breath would catch,
You’d catch it,
Grasp it and squeeze
Until I felt the sweet or little death approaching darkly.
I begged for this and you delivered.
.
First, I froze,
And raged then plotted my revenge but never had a chance.
My tables turned swiftly.
.
Before you left I wondered why
You triggered visions in my head and a feeling like
My heart would explode,
My fight or flight,
Great white birds rending.
Maybe someday She’ll tell me...
tell me why She speaks to me in rough hands.
Maybe She’ll tell me why She speaks through me to them when I open up
And clasp them so gently.
Maybe this is the great mystery that keeps my juices flowing
Like berries in a fist,
They hold me like a fist,
They let me go.
-FF