mercredi 30 novembre 2016
Vintage Memories
"Ta poitrine avait l'odeur du sable chaud et la douceur d'un matin de juillet,
Et tes lèvres avaient le goût du vent du large lorsqu'il caresse le creux d'une vague...
Nos doigts se perdaient dans de tendres errances entre nos corps enlacés,
Tandis que nos membres s'abandonnaient à la rectitude des désirs montants,
Et que nos yeux se fermaient dans la houle chavirante de nos plaisirs de garçons....."
Eraste de Saint-Amant, Poèmes garçonniers, date unknown (before 1999 ?)
mardi 29 novembre 2016
A boy's face is an horizon...
A boy's photoset, on a gay twink site such as 19Nitten, is like a novel...
And the viewer is one of the characters of this novel...
He is also, to a certain extent, its writer...
It is up to him to imagine the end of the story....
Dream
I made a dream about a boy...
This boy had not a body, at least not a flesh body..
His body was just light... A vibration of light... Like a mirage in the desert... Like an illusion in the mirror...
I desired this mirage...
I loved this illusion...
Perhaps I am the mirror...
And the desert too...
The Veil
There is no dream, no desire, no room left to the imagination of the viewer where everything is shown, when nothing is veiled...
A veil is the starting point for dreams and thoughts... It is the condition for desire, for my desire... I desire what I cannot reach, what I do not see fully...
A body's grace... A boy's gaze... Arms... A chest... Lips... Armpits... Blond hair...
A transparent veil hides as much as it shows...
I love the questions such pics raise... What is beauty ? Why is a boy beautiful ? What is desire ? What is desiring beauty ?
Why does this veil moves me so much ?
I don't need this boy to be unveiled to admire his beauty... To desire what this beauty expresses to my soul...
Perhaps I read too much Plato's Phaedrus....
Young god
There is such a vitality, an energy, a beauty, an animal grace in this boy, in this pic...
He is shining like a human sun, he is looking at the sun, he is smiling like the sun...
Just beauty... and youth... from the golden age..
Forgotten memories... that should be remembered... again and again...
dimanche 27 novembre 2016
A Magazine from Denmark
I guess all the back issues of "Boy" are available at The Denmark National Library in Copenhagen...
I guess too that publishing such a magazine today would be impossible....
Such a magazine could be a great PhD topic for a student in social sciences...
A dream
Last night, I dreamt about you...
I dreamt about a blond ephebe, almost naked, with just a white clothe around his hips...
You were walking on a sunny, a windy beach....
It was such a sunny day... but strangely enough, the beach was desert, except you and me...
You looked at me, you walked towards me...
And your white clothe felt down...
And you were naked in front of me...
And I was naked too...
And you said: "Here I am..."
And I answered: "I knew you were coming...."
You smiled....
I took your hand...
You closed your eyes...
I kissed your lips...
You put your arms around my neck...
I caressed you..
And you said...
You said: "At last...."
Marble boy / Garçon de marbre
"Garçon de marbre, si chaud, si froid,
Parviendrai-je à t'éveiller de ton sommeil de pierre ?
Je désire ton corps lisse et tes cheveux bouclés,
Ton visage imberbe et ton regard aveugle...
Nous nous sommes aimés, t'en souviens-tu,
Nous nous sommes aimés dans un gymnase d'Athènes...
Et sous un portique ombragé, à l'écart des regards,
Tu m'as permis de goûter les fleurs de ta beauté...
Je me souviens si bien du sel de tes lèvres
Et de ta peau, encore luisante de l'huile de la palestre...
Nous nous sommes aimés comme seuls des dieux peuvent s'aimer,
Je me souviens de tes mots doux, doux comme le miel de l'Hymette..."
Eraste de Saint-Amant, Poèmes garçonniers, 2010.
samedi 26 novembre 2016
The Lover
Jean-Xavier de Combeloup - Eros / Eos
(private collection)
The lover, who lives with the object he loves ...
Do not see him to become old.
You're still the same.
If I liked you yesterday ...
Why not, my love, ...
Today ...
And tomorrow ...
And to the end of days?
Do not see him to become old.
You're still the same.
If I liked you yesterday ...
Why not, my love, ...
Today ...
And tomorrow ...
And to the end of days?
Strato of Sardis (ca Ist c. AD)
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