2011 m. gruodžio 25 d., sekmadienis

Jausmai. VIII savaitė

Meluoti sau. Dovilė
   Gyvename kaip norime. O naštos grįžta su senų moterų krepšiais ir atsispindi mūsų veiduose, paskendusiuos rutinoje. Mes sakome, kad mylime, tačiau neklausome... Mes sakome, kad girdime, bet net į save neįstengiame įsiklausyti... Mes sakome, kad turime, tačiau nežinome žodžio ,,turėti“ esmės... Mes sakome, kad laukiame. Tačiau nežinom, kad jau atėjo... Ir, kad laukia mūsų su atvertomis širdimis jau seniai.  

2011 m. gruodžio 18 d., sekmadienis

Jausmai. VII savaitė

Akistata su savimi. Dovilė
   Akimirka kai suvirpa širdis, pagaliau išgirdus patį save. Tarsi būtum perrėkęs visą minią žmonių...  Nors viskas iš tikrųjų vyko mirtinoje tyloje... Jis visada šalia. Stovi šalia tavęs ir laukia kada į jį įsiklausysi. Laukia kada suprasi, kad niekur nuo jo nepabėgsi... Suprasi, kad niekas negali pabėgti nuo pats Savęs.

Jausmai. VI savaitė

Freedom. Dovilė
     Every day’s freedom since the first thought in your mind in the morning till you’re sleeping again.  Human’s freedom as a person, as individual. Freedom for choosing. Choosing when to get out of the bed, choosing what to eat today…  Making choices from simple decisions till the hardest decision- being a person who you want to be. Where is the border on staying loyal for your own commitments? You have been given a freedom for creating your own way of living. In that case you can choose from creating to destroying… What does your heart say about it?  

Jausmai. VII savaitė

Dar pilkas Kalėdų jausmas - Aistė

2011 m. gruodžio 6 d., antradienis

Jausmai. V savaitė.

Foggy mind. Dovilė

     At the same time, but from opposite sides, two lives cross the street. Another life, driving through a puddlem splashes the feet of a passing life. In the house, which they will all pass, is yet another life, Vincent, whose favourite pastime is watching television, slowly and tediously. ,,I hate autumn," the first life, called Sarah, will think, as she picks her way through fallen leaves. The second life, Laura, will feel a gust of wind and, watching a flying leaf, think: ,,How strange and beautiful autumn is: it takes time away and brings so many doubts in return...". The third life, driving the car that splashed the passer-by, will drive over a pile of leaves and not see them. Vincent will then open the window again and, tapping ash from his cigar on to the neighbours' balcony, will pretend not to notice the autumn leaves, though on of them will be lying on the windowsill. During Vincent's long life, it has become useful and convenient to pretend not to notice many things.
Evelina Puzaite