Writing to me I am leaving at the head of five hundred soldiers for Asia Minor. I received the letter without another word and wept bitterly But I wept for these women and children because I had never seen such a drama before I went to one end of the ship and I pondered Where do I go without money So where is my fate leading me Why was my brother treated so harshly My eyes blurred and bitter tears streamed down my face. I sat there until we pulled away from Corinth and it got dark. The tears dried without wiping them away Even though I was years old I didn't have a big beard. I had only a thin goat's hair sunken face and eyes full of sorrow and dejection I was left alone on the deck with despair as my companion.
But if sadness is the basic food of art it is not enough in itself to trigger a creative motivation. That is why joy is definitely needed. And Panos Iliopoulos has a lot of this and innocently. And indeed something that is so common and true and joy in him is expressed in tears Some Portuguese came on board and when the ship left men and women began to dance on deck. I stood alone at one end and cheered them on. How beautiful joy is I said to myself. I looked at the sea and criedme with my arms outstretched. Then he offered me his hand and with a warm handshake he greeted me and left. My eyes watered and I cried that such a a Mexican too.
In the Music Hall I used to go and sit alone where there were empty seats and many times I was so moved by music that made me cry.. If again the artistic spark is partly due to the mixing of sad and happy tears it is not in itself sufficient for the completion of creation without a control over the means of expression. A control which seems innate in Iliopoulos if we judge by the comprehensive and epigrammatic way in which he narrates the most important events of his life. A way that echoes the rigor and austerity of his photographic descriptions When I had reached the rd grade my Mother died of pneumonia.
发表于 2022-10-20 18:35:02