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Porque ella ¡lo vale!
COMO ESCRIBIÓ J. A. GOYTISOLO: "A VECES (...) QUISIERAS TENER TODO EL PODER PRECISO PARA MANDAR QUE EN ESE MISMO INSTANTE SE DETUVIERAN TODOS LOS RELOJES DEL MUNDO." LA VIDA, PUES, ESTÁ LLENA DE EXTRAÑAS HABITACIONES EN LAS QUE VIVIMOS QUE ME GUSTARÍA QUE PERMANECIERAN.
Today.
I got kissed tenderly.
I sunbathed, and felt happy.
Took a shower.
It is Sunday and it is summer
and I love the thought
of being me.
First time I went to London I bought a graphic novel called PLAYING HARD TO GET. It was about a boy and a girl who liked each other but played hard to get. They never got to know each other then, and a wonderful love story that was meant to be never was.
That taught me a lesson: do not play when dealing with love.
A photographer has only one thing to give to his photography. His whole being. The photographs should be the result of this involvement with the life around him.
Each photographer, beeing a unique individual, resorting to his unique and individual experience, should produce work of unique and exceptional quality.
A photographer, in order to give his utmost, must be able to recognize his own beeing by the study of it, making constant note of the growth or regression of his being, or stagnation of his being in order to confront the life around him and within him and to position himself in order to make the picture.
All photographs are “made”, not taken.
Without the feeling of responsibility to the audience, perhaps the mere taking of pictures could be considered an immoral act.
The responsibility to the public should be even greater than to the means of conveying the photograph to the public, be it through a magazine and the editors of that magazine, or a book and the publisher of that book or a movie, and the producers of that movie, for all these conveyors of the photographer’s experience as expressed in his photographs are essentially commercial enterprises selling the commodity of visual experience and entertainment. For me the true meaning of photography or the fundamental endeavor of the photographer is to notice, measure, relate the visual evidence of the changes of the development or the destruction (whichever you prefer) of the life and society going on around.
The photographer automatically chooses his subject matter in relationship to the extension of his beeing for it is the path of the photographer through his life that is registered on his photographs and as such is autobiographical.
What is your most marked characteristic?
A craving to be loved, or, to be more precise, to be caressed and spoiled rather than to be admired.
What is the quality you most like in a man?
Feminine charm.
What is the quality you most like in a woman?
A man’s virtues, and frankness in friendship.
What do you most value in your friends?
Tenderness—provided they possess a physical charm, which makes their tenderness worth having.
What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
Lack of understanding; weakness of will.
What is your favorite occupation?
Loving.
What is your idea of perfect happiness?
Not, I fear, a very elevated one. I really haven’t the courage to say what it is, and if I did I should probably destroy it by the mere fact of putting it into words.
What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
Never to have known my mother or my grandmother.
In which country would you like to live?
One where certain things that I want would be realized—and where feelings of tenderness would always be reciprocated.
Who are your favorite writers?
At the moment, Anatole France and Pierre Loti.
Who are your favorite poets?
Baudelaire and Alfred de Vigny.
Who is your favorite hero of fiction?
Hamlet.
Who is your favorite heroine of fiction?
Berenice.
Who are your favorite composers?
Beethoven, Wagner, Schumann.
Who are your favorite painters?
Leonardo da Vinci, Rembrandt.
What are your favorite names?
I only have one at a time.
What is it that you most dislike?
My own worst qualities.
Which talent would you most like to have?
Willpower and irresistible charm.
How would you like to die?
A better man than I am, and much beloved.
What is your current state of mind?
Annoyance at having to think about myself in order to answer these questions.
What is your motto?
I prefer not to say, for fear it might bring me bad luck.
El pianista del concierto de ayer era rematadamente guapo, y probablemente gay :(
Sus arreglos sobre las canciones de Cole Porter, más las letras y melodías de éste y la voz de la cantante en el Jamboree hicieron que más de una vez se me pusiera la piel de gallina desde la cabeza a los pies y volviera a decirme que debo volver a cantar, porque la música es maravillosa. Y si es de Cole Porter, la propuesta es inmejorable. (Convinimos con mi amiga Marta que absolutamente TODAS sus canciones son buenas.)
Ese pianista, que no se asemejaba al adorable feo que es Charles Aznavour, un cantante al que sigo también como actor (su personaje en Ararat me conmovió, decía: "Lo que te preguntas es: ¿por qué te odian tanto?", en relación al enfrentamiento entre pueblos, en este caso el turco y el armenio, pero podría hablar de tantos otros, de los israelíes y los palestinos, por ejemplo).
Al volver a casa, y aunque fueran las dos, me puse a ver una película: Blow Up, de Antonioni, bajo producción de Carlo Ponti, el que fuera marido de