By Barbara Duran | White Duran Project | 2021
ISLAND because I ISOLATE
ISLAND because it is A
HAVEN ISLAND because it is
A MIRAGE
ISLAND because there it is
NEVERLAND ISLAND because it is
A PLACE OF THE FEW ISLAND because it
is A PLACE OF
CASTAWAYS THE
ISLAND is A PLACE OF ABANDONMENT THE
ISLAND embraces
THE ISLAND is THE SOUL OF THE WORLD
THE ISLAND is LUSH NATURE
THE ISLAND is A ROCK
THE ISLAND is
BELONGING THE
ISLAND is A GAZE
THE ISLAND is MYTH
THE ISLAND is A CHIMERA
THE ISLAND is THE PLACE THAT PROTECTS ME FROM
THE WORLD THE ISLAND is FEAR
THE ISLAND is MEMORY
THE ISLAND is THE IMAGE REFLECTED UPON THE
WAVES THE ISLAND is APPARITION
THE ISLAND is RAREFACTION
THE ISLAND DISAPPEARS … REAPPEARS … AND
DISAPPEARS …
THE ISLAND IS THE EARTH
Strong sound that releases in the air
Blazing and white
I arrive
After the blue that surrounds
Pain
Letting go wounds
And marks the skin
Telos
Infinite transparent place
Virgin
Like the surface of the water
Deep and secret
It is life
Hollow
Where to hide tears
I might perhaps
Find
Worn by the wind
Yellowed by the sun
Dulled by the sea
The spark that I lost
And wanderer
I seek
Multitude of meetings
To give me a path
And hidden embraces
To give me trust
Now
I seek no longer
I am.
Barbara Duran
Returning.
as in a limbo
controlled,
of too many images
moving shadows
in the return,
of continuous perceptions
The head full
To forget,
small encumbering things
White light
Engraving
Long sighs
Once again, different
I place myself in front of my days
Different, wanderer
At your side.
Barbara Duran
To follow the flight of a bird, high and lonesome broad and open wings
to listen to the chirping of the swallows with crossed diagonals on the beach,
to watch an insect on a leaf,
to follow the wings of a butterfly beating in the air of a precious day,
to follow the clouds swiftly leaning on the azure expanse and striping the borders of it
to raise one’s gaze and being surprised
while the strong wind staves off the circumscribed time and makes
circles – broad spirals – of the days of life
πάντα ῥεῖ
I have tried to stop the instant, unique. Unrepeatable.
I have fed on this and now, each of them is part of me
so, together, we shall feed. Nostalgia appears, sometimes. Other instants quiet it,
again, with new colors and contrasts to catch other gazes.
Barbara Duran
In the morning when the blue mixes with the wind and I cannot hear my breath – worn from running – because drained by the loud music, it seems almost natural to me to ‘relive’ as a healthy living being. Natura Naturans.
It is strange to think how good we are at getting used to our every-day, our habits that appear different once change happens – as a choice – in this case radical.
Although this time I have not axed the ties that bounded, I have cared for the junctures with natural ointments, I have not struck blows too painful or mortal; I have unthreaded myself from an invisible and dangerous jaw cautiously and with affectionate wisdom, after all.
Now that my body is recovering – necessary shell, and worthy of great respect – my soul too begins to crop up and, there, words start to appear, still softly and with difficulty of movement. They will find harmony and their flowing will bring me peace. This I know.
Experience.
The magnetism of the earth mixed with the strength of the water are a deterrent to that malaise which surrounds those that have lost contact with it – too far from themselves – too far from the primary essence which protects us – lost, missing, outcast, blind, deaf, tired, alone; closed in on ourselves we break down rubber walls without finding that which we do not even know how to search for. Not even a spark of light – sometimes – dazzles the gaze lost in the void.
From this it is mandatory to escape. To save oneself.
Many are the chains which prevent this from happening
How many, infinite strings, in time, to tie, encircle, bind, take the breath out, surround and envelop that which is most valuable to us – in life – freedom.
Freedom.
Screamed, contended, defended, frustrated, humiliated, cultivated, honored, struck down. Freedom terrifies
Barbara Duran, Naxos 2018
When immersed in the sun, white and dazzling, I stand and look behind
There appears – strong – the originary map, the guiding strength of this moment.
I connect to my memories, broad and thin, flashes like apparitions, gazes and shapes of faraway memory – and yet vivid – strong – still vital – like frames in a long film. My life. The distant sound of liquid apparitions/disappearances that have stayed in the air of remembrance like ectoplasmic cells and seems to exist – in the fullness of that precise instant – instant recorded by an internal and sentimental camera.
I fall asleep at night caressed by the fullness, which is also sadness, of these images which circle and appear – disappear: saudade in reverse. I wish to gather the transparent water which flows and does not still, like time and circumstances. I wish to repeat the same experience and reverse it.
The reeds wave along with the wind, the distant white houses motionless watch the sea and I know that it is there, beyond the walls; it is there, beyond the path. Like jasmine I crawl on the veranda in wait … the ship gives the signal – mmmmhhhh – and it sails, leaves behind the blue, the white trail accompanies it, the guide. What is time? A long trail that cuts and does not cut out. Only at the terminal it says: enough, now – there’s no more time! We will not be warned and even then, we won’t be able to adapt to the end, because the end exhausts and frightens. Exhausts and appalls, it wounds: it is too much. The island appears to me marked by borders, by the infinite stripes of azure, indigo, blue, emerald and at night violet and pink, even some veins of umber and brown. Behind the sun, the night the moon
The island protects and separates, I feel safe Now the time has come for the timeless ones, now softly…softly.
Barbara Duran
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