Kurdulija
1 member found
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Peter Kurdulija
New Zealand
260 creative works found
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I do. And everything she symbolizes – the familiar sights and sounds, the period of our lives embedded in long term memory with our mothers, sisters, aunties and neighbors in it, the uniform sound of a sewing machine intertwined with casual chitchat. I still remember those gentle hands, gliding skillfully over soft materials, more than capable of turning a piece of fabric into lovable garments. Even my first girlfriend, the sweetest of souls, from a family of many, used to make clothes for herself, in patterns and colors she desired, as tight as I could wish, to perfectly fit the young man’s eye. Nowadays, the skill has migrated to distant lands, in search of a new pair of hands, not necessarily gentler, certainly cheaper. Time flies. We are left to do what people whose expiry date is fast approaching do – recycle the recollection of the good old days, the age when we were young and good looking. Now, we are only good looking. Such is life.
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Sensations pour in abundance when the rainforest waltzes with the morning mist…
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When She Walks She Moves So Fine Like A Flamingo
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Shortly after the dream, the mountains breathed out a morning glow across the still surface of a murky glacial lake.
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Don’t tell me the sky is the limit, there are footprints on the moon!
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Who travels for love finds a thousand miles not longer than one. Japanese Proverb
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Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one. Paul Eldridge (1888-1982)
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I was not going to leave the zoo without this image. The beautiful bird, I first saw the outlines of through the man planted flora, gracefully glided across the artificial pond. Its motion cut a gentle trail in the small, evening breeze caused ripples. I set an ambush at the narrow part of the pond and waited patiently. No good. The introverted animal was too edgy when passing by, and emerged in and out of the dark shadows at unpredictable intervals. This was going to be a long haul. Luckily, with the ambient light we both needed running out quickly, my desire to capture the elegant curves of this creature and its routine craving to nibble a bit before the day expired reached an uneasy, but welcomed equilibrium. I held my breath and pushed the button with my cold stiffened finger. Timeless beauty. This is not a great story, just a blurb, with a moral that outweighs its size. The ever relevant message to those who take away your freedom is to realize they will never be able to deprive you of your Dignity, your Grace.
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Oskar was right, Civic Square comes into its own sometime around midnight.
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How can it be that we can say so much without words? Madness (from Complete Madness, 1982)
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Like carpet, the purpose has been pulled under the existence of the old bush hut at the end of the railway line.
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The writing is on the wall – if you can see it, you can’t read it. I passed this sculpture so many times. You have to. It is made of stainless steel and placed in one of the busiest Wellington streets, in the perfect position to capture the colorful lights of the city after daylight, the nightglow of the capital. The ‘Invisible City’, as it’s called, is the gigantic panel of Braille text that highlights the communication gap between those who can’t see and the rest of us. The post is designed to remember all the folks, my countrymen and yours, the often invisible part of society, all those who finish schools, who work, play music, do sports, pay taxes, have and raise children, to the benefit of us all.
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The road to cloud nine, where our new attitude energy is supposed to come from.
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What do you call the light that permanently imprints itself into the deepest corner of your cerebral real estate? Just a memorable one, divine, sublime? The star was going down fast, as it was just a matter of ‘to get it over and done with‘ a daily sunset routine – until that moment. Like it was switched on by some all powerful hand residing somewhere in the center of a kingdom of light, the sunbeam reached across the valley, bringing all the associated attributes with it, like joy and warmth, just for a few moments, before disappearing altogether. The blue cold haze drowned the beautiful Hawkes Bay valley, but not before the last ray of sun got there first. I was standing in awe … for a while in fact, still in disbelief. Review button and LCD screen confirmed it did happen. Sweet. I’ll treasure selfishly the melody of breeze passing through the treetops, the smell of golden grass and feel of fallen leafs under my feet. Not to worry, I left something to share with you. Here it is.
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I caught up with my thoughts just before Greytown, the storm caught up with me shortly after.
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I was seldom able to see an opportunity until it had ceased to be one. Mark Twain (1835 –1910)
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You know where, and I’ll tell you when … we will meet again.
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And remember, no matter where you go, there you are. Confucius (551 BC – 479 BC)
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The future is always beginning now. Mark Strand
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Shared joy is a double joy; shared sorrow is half a sorrow. Swedish Proverb
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Did you ever wonder if the person in the puddle is real, and you’re just a reflection of him? Calvin and Hobbes
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I had to get lost in Otane fog to find enlightenment .
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Life is largely a matter of expectation. Horace (65 BC – 8 BC)
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