The development of Lynch's body of work is informed by a realist's optimism that there is an exit from the linguistic labyrinth and that this exit is richly available to us [...] His use of language—and of cinematic vocabulary—suggests that, once we understand that we ourselves have created cultural forms and that they only have the meaning we give them, we are free to understand the forces in the universe that are truly larger than we are and how they connect us to a greater reality.
Martha Nochimson, The Passion of David Lynch
ending a story in other languages
kurdish: “my story went to other homes, god bless the mothers and fathers of its listeners” (Çîroka min çû diyaran, rehmet li dê û bavê guhdaran.)
greek: “and they lived well, and we lived better” (και ζήσανε αυτοί καλά και εμείς καλύτερα)
afrikaans: “whistle whistle, the story is done” (fluit fluit, die storie is uit)
goemai: “my tale has finished, (it) has returned to go (and) come home.” (tamtis noe lat / dok ba muaan yi wa)
amharic: “return my story and feed me bread” (ተረቴን መልሱ አፌን በዳቦ አብሱ::)
bengali: “my story ends and the spinach is eaten by the goat” (aamaar kothati furolo; Notey gaachhti murolo) *means something is irreversibly ended because goats eats herbs from the root
norwegian: “snip snap snout, the tale is finished” (snipp snapp snute, så er eventyret ute”
polish: “and i was there [at the wedding] too, and drank mead and wine.” (a ja tam byłem, miód i wino piłem.)
georgian: “disaster there, feast here… bran there, flour here…” (ჭირი – იქა, ლხინი – აქა, ქატო – იქა, ფქვილი – აქა)
hungarian: “this is the end, run away with it” (itt a vége, fuss el véle)
turkish: “lastly, three apples fell from the sky; one for our story’s heroes, one for the person who told their tale, and one for those who listened and promise to share. And with that, they all achieved their hearts’ desires. Let us now step up and settle into their thrones.” (Gökten üç elma düşmüş; biri onların, biri anlatanın, diğeri de dinleyenlerin başına. Onlar ermiş muradına, biz çıkalım kerevetine.)
“In cyclamen flowers the red of summer combines with the blue of autumn into a pinkish purple, and their fragrance recaptures all the sweetness of the past; but as you inhale it for longer, there is a quite different smell behind it : that of decay and death.”
— Marlen Haushofer, The Wall (tr. by Shaun Whiteside)
currently reading:
except for palestine: the limits of progressive politics by marc lamont hill & mitchell plitnick
palestine: a socialist introduction, ed. by sumaya awad & brian bean
on my non-fiction reading list:
the question of palestine, edward said
the hundred years’ war on palestine, rashid khalidi
palestinian identity, rashid khalidi
ten myths about israel, ilan pappé
the ethnic cleansing of palestine, ilan pappé
on palestine, noam chomsky & ilan pappé
blaming the victims: spurious scholarship and the palestinian question, ed. by edward said & christopher hitchens
the case for sanctions against israel, ed. by audrea lim
justice for some: law and the question of palestine, noura erakat
freedom is a constant struggle, angela davis
the butterfly's burden, mahmoud darwish
on my fiction reading list:
minor detail, adania shibli
enter ghost, isabella hammad
salt houses, hala alyan
men in the sun, ghassan kanafani
It reminds me of a house that teens would sneak into on a warm Autumn’s day
this blue house feels so cozy yet i have never been inside it