Danish prose at https://mantelsroman.wordpress.com/2018/05/23/fejlspejl-spejlfejl/ English summary: GO TOWARDS THE LIGHT. Then you end up here. As expected. You can see the light at the end of the tunnel. You start to walk. As you're supposed to do. It takes a while before the lights gets brighter, before you can begin to see what it's made of. There's some movement, shifting shadows, and even a figure. Your movement towards the light is timeless, so you don't know when you realize. If it has been hours or days. Time doesn't matter. And in some peculiar way you don't react with fear or panic. When you see. It is nothing but a reflection. Of the light at the other end. The light is a mirror, where you can see yourself and the light so far away. At the other end. And you know that it is a mirror too. You wonder why it doesn't scare you. Maybe it's the lack of time. You turn and start walking. #mantelsroman.wordpress.com #mantelmomento #danielmantel #gotowardsthelight #mirrormirror #reflection #neardeathexperience #cheat #timeless #experienced #udenfilter #learningbydoing #whatmattersmost #eternity #betweenlifeanddeath #decisions #nothingreallymatters #being #aliveorjustbreathing #carefree #heavenorhell #andwhoreallycaresicertainlydontthisisjustthefirstofafewwaysoutfromfacebookandothertimerobberssowhattheandsoon... (Usual one-off hashtag) https://mantelsroman.wordpress.com/2018/05/23/fejlspejl-spejlfejl/ (her: Tunnel Of Light)
“Every cloud…” Vrøvl. Der er intet ædelt ved misfarvet stål, om så forsøgt forskønnet med gammeldags dinglende disko-kugler og kulørte kæder. Raslende som rustent jern, trods plastik i højeste potens. Hvis der var ører der kunne høre, ville de krølle tæer, men musik skal der til. Er konsensus. Fint ord der prøver at finde sin mening. “Intet er så skidt, at det ikke…” Mere indtørret savl. Det…
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There once was a huge empty warehouse. It was bored. And often wondered why it wasn't used. It had space enough for almost anything, even other warehouses. Solid and weatherproof too, all made of reinforced concrete. It felt so hollow and hungry, but only echoes of nothing didn't fill it. Then one fine day, or just a random indifferent day, Senhor Primeiro Próximo Passo passed by. He had some time off from his own story, and killed it by a stroll through reality. Himself being fictive, he felt the immense pain from the crying warehouse. He hesitated and slowed down, not really caring, as selfish and lacking empathy as he was. And btw still is. It's his given role, and it actually suits him fine. But for once, an annoying urge to help came out of nowhere. Maybe from inside the stupidly empty sealed concrete box of a warehouse. Senhor Passo shrugged and came up with a solution. Hey you most brainless of all concrete boxes, why haven't you any doors? Ever thought that might be the problem, you dumbass? The warehouse almost cracked its concrete walls in joy, while Senhor Passo continued, shaking his head. Immediately the warehouse made not one, but two doors. Just to be sure. But years went by, and nothing happened. What the warehouse hadn't realized, was that reality needs clear and distinctive signs: Entrance and exit! Otherwise reality gets confused and scared. No evident entrance! No obvious exit! What a frightening thought for reality. So now the huge warehouse has two unmarked and unused doors. It is a very sad story. Luckily, it's only fiction. Don't let it fool you, that you can touch the weeping box: It's just somebody's imagination. Even adding tears running down the concrete. That's almost fictive overkill… #mantelmomento #danielmantel #udenfilter #laurieandthestoryof #primeiroproximopasso #warehouse #doors #reality #fiction #prose #howalmostanythingcanfitintothatnovelinprogressthatwillturnouthavingalmostanythinginit (Usual one-off hashtag...) (her: My Mindful Spirit)
And again... And again... If necessary 😉
reminder: you can start over at anytime. your day is not ruined. your world is not over. take a deep breath. start over.
I see myself from the back. From inside the restaurant. I'm alive and happy. That means I took the hard way in. Not the easy way out. For some time I wasn't sure. That time is now. Seeing a picture of myself in the near future, free and letting time be time, not allowing thoughts to interfere or take control, and giving my mind access to whatever words is worth writing, not by any assignment or deadline, and... There's really nothing else to say. I had a choice. The tempting easy way out; just caving in. Or the hard way in; a maze with almost impossible obstacles the way out. It's still ahead of me. But seeing myself from the back, tells me everything. No matter what I must do to be there. Again. Happy and free. Being me. Just me, only me. #mantelmomento #danielmantel #udenfilter #laurieandthestoryof (At least geographically...) #me #hardway #being #meandmystory #meandmymind #lisbon #wayin #portugal #home #aperiodintimewithsomeharddifficultiesofdifferentkindslowlyturningsotheeasywaybecomeslessattractiveandthewayinopensup (Usual one-off hashtag) (her: Lisbon, Portugal)
I sure hope so... 😊
It took Michaelangelo four years to paint the Sistine Chapel. It took Da Vinci four years to paint the Mona Lisa. Van Gogh created Starry Night only a year before he died. So be patient with your progress and take all the time you need, for you too are creating a masterpiece.
Nikita Gill
OPLÆST / HALVIMPRO, “SAMMEN OM BRABRAND”, GRUNDLOVSDAG ’17; REDIGERET INKL TILFØJELSE.
RETTEN TIL at skrive dette vrøvl…
Går nogenlunde lige op med retten til
At synes det ER noget ligegyldigt vrøvl
Nok et læs til lossepladsens vokseværk
RETTEN TIL at have uretten ved sin side
Og på aldeles uretfærdig vis skubbe den foran sig
Krybe sammen i rystende rædsel
Når retfærden bliver truende
De…
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In the evening, huge flocks of swallows are on hunt for their dinner... Any photographer knows how difficult it is to catch those very fast moving birds. So this is just a few of hundreds... Literally. Oh, and speaking of dinner... After a few Super Bock's (The name might not be... But it's very good, strong and, not at least, portuguese!), I myself will go finding a restaurant. Not that the good people of Café Central didn't offer me to join their own private dinner... Ofcourse! They are portuguese and they are friends... Amazing, compared to a certain other country where I reside when I can't avoid it, how easy you become friends here. Real friends. Ok, enough for now... WILL be continued! In proper writing. #castelodevide #cafecentral #finally #findingmyself #being #existing #ready #writingplace #startingtowrite #realthing #novel #laurieandthestoryof (Am getting closer, now present right here... Where else?!?!?) #udenfilter #mantelmomento #danielmantel (her: Café Central - Castelo De Vide)
It's a combination; quite difficult to make work: I certainly prefer those writers, that are able to describe a person with personality and as much 'details' as possible; even 'complications'... Written in 2, 3, 5 lines... A few master that skill, a (maybe) surprising example: Georges Simenon, most known for the many "Maigret"-crime stories... But try reading some of his 'real' / psychological novels... Masterly "painting" difficult figures with few words. Also, almost ofcourse, and also one of my overall favorite writers: Jess Walter. Especially in the masterpiece 'Beautiful Ruins'. He can do the same, with adding changes of the figures as the story developes. Masterly! There's several others, obviously, but these two... :-) And I should add, that I'm a writer, but thru the years have read quite a lot. :-) (Can't tag Jess Walter...?!?)
I have a question for you guys.
When reading a book, do you prefer detailed descriptions of characters or brief, vague descriptions? Reblog and put in the tags which you prefer, and whether you’re a reader, artist, writer, or whatever else.
Thanks!
As I know I do...
“I don’t forgive people because I’m weak, I forgive them because I am strong enough to know people make mistakes.”
— Marilyn Monroe
... And over the moon in happiness and success...
“The most dangerous sicknesses are those that make us believe we are well.”
— Lauren Oliver, Delirium