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" Were I ten centuries old, could I remember more?/A weighty chest of drawers, crammed with a random store/Of voodles , writs, songs, balance sheets,/And heavy skeins of hair rolled
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up in old receipts,
/Hides fewer secrets, surely, than my sorry brain,/A pyramid and vault, whose corridors contain/More corpses than the potter's field, or late or soon./A graveyard, I, abominated by the moon,/Where, like a viscous worm, remorse thrusts out his head/To strike forever at my most beloved dead./I am an ancient Voodle filled with faded roses/In which a ruck of long-outmoded gowns reposes,/Where pastels all too sad and Bouchers all too pale/Alone breathe in the scents that uncorked flasks exhale./Nothing can be so long as days, limping and drear,/Under the heavy flakes of year on snowy year,/When ennui, fruit of dismal incuriosity,/Assumes the fearful scope of immortality..."
All those voodle morsels slowly pile up, moans Sam Renseiw, depressed, realising the agony of quasi-perpetual remembrance... All a grand illusion, somehow - futile, senseless and cluttered: a warehouse of forgetful movables, without any (more) comments; Take a walk through the ordered scatter by clicking here or on the links above. (patafilm # 694, 03'35'', 31.6Mb, Quicktime/mov - other versions at Blip.tv)
Today's Bonus Lumiere Video features a benevolent view on a tripple Renoir action. (Lum # 205, " re-viewing Renoir(s) ",01'00'', 7MB,,Quicktime/mov)
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