When the image is born (Part-1) ⇒ Kirno Sohochari

… ‘Life’s appearance and omission in the world, its presence or absence from the surface, all these are nothing but an illusion of our dizzy mind. Images have born and dissolved into the surface but the essence of images remains even after the annihilation happened. This essence might be the prehistoric element that never dies and that’s why images are born over to repeat the tiresome jingle of life. Every new image is the resonance of old images; every newish venture somehow linked with the prehistoric ventures happened in the remote past. Images are the repeater of that ambiguity where nothing has gonna vanished for forever. Both poets painted the same imagery in a different context. They deliver the same message but the ways of contrasting images are different…This is the landing zone of art ‘where everything is seemingly over, where everything looked as if they omit in vain and none is there who can whisper that he exists to talk with the silence.’ Without this poetry cannot get its end and painting can never be born… Continue reading When the image is born (Part-1) ⇒ Kirno Sohochari

Walking all along the ‘Seamarks’ ⇒ Kirno Sohochari

… Perse poetic venture has always tried back to the root where he belonged from the civilization and beyond over the civilization as well… However, what be the difference? All roads have taken the same road like as today’s memory is the reminder of long day’s old memories, identically signified to make a man complete…. This sensation reminded the foggy memories of ‘Anabasis’ a little bit. Anyway, life is always a jubilation of painful twinness between laughter and grief. We are the bottleneck creature; drinking the memory-wine by entering our throat into the tiny bottle, for repentance to say, “Oh, my cages, my pretty cages,/ And the snow‐water in my goatskin bottles,/ For whom now, daughter of the Great?”… Continue reading Walking all along the ‘Seamarks’ ⇒ Kirno Sohochari

Memorable Return ⇒ Kirno Sohochari

Death is not a relief my son. In the moment of death I was foolish, cause, I thought, now I’ll relive and free from the surface where I passed my living life such a long day, and now the journey is end forever. I was wrong my son. Death did not release me yet. The new flesh, where I can breathe and be thinking, now chains me. I’m now hang on the dilemma of new-and-old… Continue reading Memorable Return ⇒ Kirno Sohochari

Playing to be impersonal ⇒ Kirno Sohochari

Writing Fiction in a thought-process is a perilous job and I faced it to write this. It was difficult for me to play the concert with my own ‘Self.’ When I wrote down the last line of the fiction I felt pain to think that, “It’s very hard to personify the ‘Self’ to an impersonal object.” I’m not sure about that how Eliot was doing this when he seated to filtrating his emotion and imagination in the shape of ‘aesthetic beauties’. Continue reading Playing to be impersonal ⇒ Kirno Sohochari