By Jan Zwicky On a bad day, you come in from the weather and lean your back against the door. This time of year it's dark by five. Your armchair, empty in its pool of light. That arpeggio lifts, like warmth, from the fifth of B minor, offers its hand - let me tell you a story...But in the same breath, semitones falling to the tonic: you must believe and not believe; that door you came in you must go out again. In the forest, the woodcutter's son sets the stone down from his sack and speaks to it. And from nothing, a spring wells, falling as it rises, spilling out across the dark green moss. There is sadness in the world, it says, past telling. Learn stillness if you would run clear.
This gallery contains 16 photos.
(Sagrada Familia dominates Barcelona’s skyline)
Sagrada Familia is a Catholic basilica in Barcelona. Construction began in 1882. In 1883 Antoni Gaudi became involved and made it his life’s passion. It was only one quarter complete when he died in 1926. Construction of the basilica relies solely on donations. It is hoped construction will be complete in 2026 – one hundred years after Gaudi’s death.
Sagrada Familia is unlike any of the churches we have seen on our travels and seems to defy description. Eyes feast on a buffet of sights that soar, colours that shade dark to light as they rise to the heavens, facades that carve Christian messages in their towers. Astonish, amaze, admire – wow!
(Gaudi’s tomb in a crypt beneath Sagrada Familia)
Music is the divine way to tell
beautiful poetic things to the heart. – Pablo Casals
(cello portrait by: Christa-S-Nelson)
To be a musician is a curse. To not be one is even worse. –Jazz trumpeter Jack Daney
“The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces of people goin’ by
I see friends shaking hands saying, “How do you do”
They’re really saying “I love you.”
I hear babies cry, I watch them grow
They’ll learn much more than I’ll ever know;
And I think to myself, What a wonderful world;
Yes, I think to myself, What a wonderful world.
I Wonder How Many People in This City from “The Spice-Box of Earth” by Leonard Cohen
I wonder how many people in this city
Live in furnished rooms.
Late at night when i look out at the buildings
I swear I see a face in every window
Looking back at me
and when I turn away
I wonder how many go back to their desks
and write this down.