En essentiell ägodel var människa bör ha till sitt förfogande.
onsdag 24 februari 2010
måndag 22 februari 2010
måndag 8 februari 2010
Utdrag som aldrig blir gammalt
Från en bok om sjuka tankar och Paris så vintage man vill ha det.
"Each time Laurent fancied he recognised Camille, he felt a burning
sensation in the heart. He ardently desired to find the body of his
victim, and he was seized with cowardice when he imagined it before him.
His visits to the Morgue filled him with nightmare, with shudders that
set him panting for breath. But he shook off his fear, taxing himself
with being childish, when he wished to be strong. Still, in spite of
himself, his frame revolted, disgust and terror gained possession of his
being, as soon as ever he found himself in the dampness, and unsavoury
odour of the hall.
When there were no drowned persons on the back row of slabs, he breathed
at ease; his repugnance was not so great. He then became a simple
spectator, who took strange pleasure in looking death by violence in the
face, in its lugubriously fantastic and grotesque attitudes. This sight
amused him, particularly when there were women there displaying their
bare bosoms. These nudities, brutally exposed, bloodstained, and in
places bored with holes, attracted and detained him.
Once he saw a young woman of twenty there, a child of the people, broad
and strong, who seemed asleep on the stone. Her fresh, plump, white form
displayed the most delicate softness of tint. She was half smiling, with
her head slightly inclined on one side. Around her neck she had a black
band, which gave her a sort of necklet of shadow. She was a girl who had
hanged herself in a fit of love madness.
Each morning, while Laurent was there, he heard behind him the coming
and going of the public who entered and left.
The morgue is a sight within reach of everybody, and one to which
passers-by, rich and poor alike, treat themselves. The door stands open,
and all are free to enter. There are admirers of the scene who go out of
their way so as not to miss one of these performances of death. If the
slabs have nothing on them, visitors leave the building disappointed,
feeling as if they had been cheated, and murmuring between their teeth;
but when they are fairly well occupied, people crowd in front of them
and treat themselves to cheap emotions; they express horror, they joke,
they applaud or whistle, as at the theatre, and withdraw satisfied,
declaring the Morgue a success on that particular day."
Emile Zola-Therese Raquin
(samtliga kapitel på vänster sida)
"Each time Laurent fancied he recognised Camille, he felt a burning
sensation in the heart. He ardently desired to find the body of his
victim, and he was seized with cowardice when he imagined it before him.
His visits to the Morgue filled him with nightmare, with shudders that
set him panting for breath. But he shook off his fear, taxing himself
with being childish, when he wished to be strong. Still, in spite of
himself, his frame revolted, disgust and terror gained possession of his
being, as soon as ever he found himself in the dampness, and unsavoury
odour of the hall.
When there were no drowned persons on the back row of slabs, he breathed
at ease; his repugnance was not so great. He then became a simple
spectator, who took strange pleasure in looking death by violence in the
face, in its lugubriously fantastic and grotesque attitudes. This sight
amused him, particularly when there were women there displaying their
bare bosoms. These nudities, brutally exposed, bloodstained, and in
places bored with holes, attracted and detained him.
Once he saw a young woman of twenty there, a child of the people, broad
and strong, who seemed asleep on the stone. Her fresh, plump, white form
displayed the most delicate softness of tint. She was half smiling, with
her head slightly inclined on one side. Around her neck she had a black
band, which gave her a sort of necklet of shadow. She was a girl who had
hanged herself in a fit of love madness.
Each morning, while Laurent was there, he heard behind him the coming
and going of the public who entered and left.
The morgue is a sight within reach of everybody, and one to which
passers-by, rich and poor alike, treat themselves. The door stands open,
and all are free to enter. There are admirers of the scene who go out of
their way so as not to miss one of these performances of death. If the
slabs have nothing on them, visitors leave the building disappointed,
feeling as if they had been cheated, and murmuring between their teeth;
but when they are fairly well occupied, people crowd in front of them
and treat themselves to cheap emotions; they express horror, they joke,
they applaud or whistle, as at the theatre, and withdraw satisfied,
declaring the Morgue a success on that particular day."
Emile Zola-Therese Raquin
(samtliga kapitel på vänster sida)
lördag 6 februari 2010
Genom burgallret
Varför är vi så instängda i våra hem? Blir så jävla hemsjuk ibland. Både för att jag hela tiden är hemma och när jag är borta för att jag vill hem.
torsdag 4 februari 2010
onsdag 3 februari 2010
Bara tvungen
Tradera, 2 set, 190 kr
Ok, jag medger att jag dreglat över dessa ett tag nu men aldrig trodde jag att jag skulle ha en sådan tur att de satt och väntade på mig,helt nya, i en auktion! Ena setet hade jag tänkt slänga ur mig minst 250 kr på, men andra setet... Visste att det var omöjligt att få tag på och ba förträngde det hårt och smidigt. Det är fortfarande overkligt, de är lika fina i verkligheten och känns som silke i tassarna. Så uttjatade de är, älsar´t!
Rosdoft och Rispiska
Mycket prisande om att borstarna och förpackningen är ekologiska och gjorda av bambu,hampa,ekologisk bomull,återvunnet aluminium och plast och syntethår utan plågerier av djur inblandade.Men sedan kan man ju fråga sig hur hållbart bambu egentligen är och hur fairtrade de tillverkats. Det står trots allt Made in china på baksidan, ja lite kritik behöver de. Att fortsättas.
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