Gray Ocean

LAST MODIFIED: November 30, 2011   SUBMITTED BY: Aadie
FEATURED IN: Hopefuls Pics, AadiePHOTOGRAPHER: Lavonne

AADIE SAYS: “"OCEAN" Not long ago I saw the sea once again and trod upon the bridges of ships; my memories of it are as lively as if it had all happened yesterday. If you are able, however, be as calm as I am as you read what is to follow (for already I regret offering it to you) and do not blush for the human heart. O octopus of the silky glance! You whose soul is inseparable from mine; you, the most beautiful creature upon the terrestrial globe; you, chieftain of a seraglio of four hundred sucking-cups; you, in whom are nobly enthroned as though in their natural habitat, by a common agreement and with an indestructible bond, the divine graces and the sweet virtue of communication: why are you not with me, your belly of quicksilver pressed to my breast of aluminum, the two of us sitting here together upon a rock by the shore as we contemplate the spectacle I adore! Ancient ocean, crystal-waved, you resemble somewhat those bluish marks that one sees upon the battered backs of cabin-boys; you are a vast bruise inflicted upon the body of earth: I love this comparison. At the first sight of you a long breath of sadness that might be the murmur of your own bland zephyr passes over the deeply moved soul, leaving ineffaceable scars, and you recall to the memories of those who love you, though they are not always aware of it, the crude origins of man when first he made the acquaintance of the sorrow that has never deserted him. I salute you, ancient ocean! Ancient ocean, your harmonious sphere, rejoicing the grave countenance of geometry, reminds me too much of man's little eyes, in paltriness resembling those of the boar and those of the nightbird in the circular perfection of their contour. Yet man has thought himself beautiful throughout the centuries. As for me, I presume that he believes in his beauty only from pride, but that he is not really beautiful and that he suspects this, for why does he contemplate the countenance of his fellow-man with so much scorn? I salute you, ancient ocean! Ancient ocean, you are the symbol of identity: always equal to yourself. Essentially you never change, and if your waves are somewhere lashed into fury, elsewhere they are stilled in the most complete peace. You are not like men, who linger in the street to watch two bulldogs tearing at each other's throats but who hurry on when a funeral passes; who in the morning may be reasonable and in the evening evil-tempered; who laugh today and weep tomorrow. I salute you, ancient ocean! Ocean, Life, and Cruelty Three excerpts from "Les Chants de Maldoror" by Lautreamont (1846-1870) ”