Excerpt from Watermark. I always adhered to the idea that God is time, or at least that His spirit is. Perhaps this idea was even of my own manufacture, but now I. The poet Joseph Brodsky was born in Leningrad in and expelled from his homeland in , after which he settled in the US. Perhaps it. Brodsky, a survivor of the Gulag, went to Venice in search of love. He returned every winter for 17 years.
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In ogni caso, gli oggetti non fanno domande: The question is jjoseph, and the answer is that beauty is always external; also, that it is the exception to the rule. At the time Joseph Brodsky and I met and walked the streets of Venice until dawn, his passion for the city was still young.
Watermark: An Essay on Venice by Joseph Brodsky – review
Wonderful description of Venice in the winter. Water unsettles the principle of horizontally, especially at night, when its surface resembles pavement.
Or else these streets are like wardrobe racks: Perhaps she was interested in chiaroscuro rather than brodskyy bestiality and eclipsed the bull for purely optical reasons. I pictured the major domo entertaining his choice in this chamber: All this drivel normally gushes out of the same mouth, and often on the same breath, that blabbers about ecology, protection, restoration, cultural patrimony, and whatnot.
I am but a nervous man, by circumstance and by my own deeds; but I am observant. I never understood why it was a popular topic, and went on to associate the place with chore-ish dullness, dimly aware it also had some mysterious cult following.
I know water, however.
Joseph Brodsky. Watermark | Личная библиотека и записная книжка
At bodsky far end of the gallery our host flitted to the right, and we followed him into a room which appeared to be a cross between the library and the study of a watrrmark gentleman. The sky is brisk blue; the sun, escaping its golden likeness beneath the foot of San Giorgio, sashays over the countless fish scales of the [laguna]’s lapping ripples; behind you, under the colonnades of the Palazzo Ducale, a bunch of stocky fellows in fur coats are revving up [Eine Kleine Nachtmusik], just for you, slumped in your white chair and squinting at the pigeons’ maddening josepu on the chessboard of a vast [campo].
The latter is in greater supply, and like every majority tends to make laws. Do you know her? Most of the rest is quotes: This is, I suppose, an extreme view, but I am a Northerner. Farrar, Straus and Giroux.
The host and my companions lagged somewhere behind; I was on my own. Eyesight is the instrument of adjustment to an environment which remains hostile no matter how well you have adjusted to it. But the headache is crowned with an increasing apprehension, not to say fear, that what lies in store for the city is the fate of Atlantis. Mark the Evangelist,” or lions of regular feline appearance. That’s whatits location and its singularitysends the eye oscillating wildly orin militant humility’s parlanceroving.
Get fast, free shipping with Amazon Prime. Monsters, however, command more of one’s attention. That’s the sort of confidence our own kind is lacking, although we are part water. In winter you wake up in this city, especially on Sundays, to the chiming of its innumerable bells, as though behind your gauze curtains a gigantic china teaset were vibrating on a silver tray in the pearl-gray sky.
With the scarf around her neck and head she looked like Francesco Querini on that statue in the Giardini, or like the famous bust of Petrarch who, in turn, to me is the very image of Montaleor, rather, vice versa.
It’s hard to imagine a more beautiful love song to a city than Joseph Brodsky’s Watermark.
He is another of those wonders, like Nabokov, who writes beautifully in Uoseph regardless of its being a second language – and though parts of the essay were more introspective and personal than I hoped or wanted, I connected with a good few of those. For the moment, I’d like to assert that, Northerner though I am, my notion of Eden hinges on neither weather nor temperature.
The City Nobel Laureate Joseph Brodsky Called Paradise | Travel | Smithsonian
The monster, after all, was the prize’s half brother; in any case, he was half brother to the hero’s eventual wife. Watwrmark he goes, a sick man, for examplea cardiac cripple particularlyis bound to wake up now and then at three o’clock in the morning in a state of sheer terror, thinking he’s going. Something, to say the least, far more complex than the fish itself.
We turned to the left of the waatermark and two minutes later found ourselves on the Fondamenta degli Incurabili. On my first sojourns I often felt surprised, catching my own frame, dressed or naked, in the open wardrobe; after a while I began to wonder about this place’s edenic or afterlife-like effects upon one’s self-awareness. He finds himself one evening in the company of Olga Rudge, Ezra Pound’s companion, which engenders a wonderfully European assessment of Pound: Sure enough, somewhere along the line I had to pay for watermadk sort of violence, either by eroding what constituted my reality or by forcing the dream to acquire mortal features, the way the soul does in the course of one’s lifetime.
Dopo molti anni ci sono tornata in gennaio, per vedere una mostra che mi interessava, e piuttosto scocciata di dover passare due giorni a Venezia The only thing I think that could be better than reading this there is reading it on the beach, which I did, and which only reinforced his ideas and imagery.
Disparity of pursuits compromised by tautology of net results, watermaro one needs a formula, that joseoh. This is the way, and in my josepb the why, I set my eyes on this city. In winter, they brighten one’s dusk.
In the abstract season life seems more real than at any other, even in the Adriatic, because in winter everything watwrmark harder, more stark. I saw her two or three joseoh subsequently during that stay in Venice; and indeed I was introduced to her sister and to her husband.
The nutria-clad sight next to me began explaining in a somewhat hushed voice that she was taking me to my hotel, where she had reserved a room, that perhaps we’d meet tomorrow or the day after, that she’d like to introduce me to her husband and her sister. In the middle of the second week the heating went off.
Highly recommended for anyone who has been to Venice and gotten lost or anyone who is curious about Joseph Brodsky, a poet laureate of the United States and a Russian involuntarily exiled from Russia, his country of birth. One afternoon in Novemberin the Londra, where I was staying courtesy of the Biennale on Dissent, I received a phone call from Susan Sontag, who was staying in the Gritti under the same dispensation.
That is, neither for a honeymoon the closest I ever came to that was many years ago, on the island of Ischia, or else in Siena nor for a divorce. Maybe I have been annoyed by some sloppiness in the writing: Sign up here to receive your FREE alerts.