But when I thought I hit bottom, it started hitting back. There is no bruise like the bruise loneliness kicks into your spine.
Andrea GibsonRead
We are all instruments pulling the bows across our own lungs. Windmills, still startling in every storm. Have you ever seen a newborn blinking at the light? I wanna do that every day. I wanna know what the kite called itself when it got away, when it escaped into the night.
Interpretation
This quote reflects on the beauty of self-expression and the wonder of life.
Andrea Gibson's quote uses vivid imagery to explore themes of individuality and the awe of existence. It suggests that each person is like an instrument, capable of making beautiful music through their experiences and feelings. The references to newborns and kites emphasize the desire for freedom and the joy of discovering the world anew.
In practice
In a motivational speech to inspire artists to embrace their creativity.
But when I thought I hit bottom, it started hitting back. There is no bruise like the bruise loneliness kicks into your spine.
Love isn't always magic. But if I offered my body to the magician, if I told him to cut me in half so after that I could come to you whole and ask for you back would you listen for this dark alley love song? For the winter we heated our home from the steam off our own bodies?
I know this world is far from perfect. I am not the type to mistake a streetlight for the moon. I know our wounds are deep as the Atlantic. But every ocean has a shoreline and every shoreline has a tide that is constantly returning to wake the songbirds in our hands, to wake the music in our bones, to place one fearless kiss on the mouth of that new born river that has to run through the center of our hearts to find its way home.
I know you think this world is too dark to even dream in color, but I’ve seen flowers bloom at midnight. I’ve seen kites fly in gray skies and they were real close to looking like the sunrise, and sometime it takes the most wounded wings the most broken things to notice how strong the breeze is, how precious the flight.
I have never met a heavy heart that wasn’t a phone booth with a red cape inside Some people will never understand the kind of superpower it takes for some people to just walk outside Some days I know my smile looks like the gutter of a falling house But my hands are always holding tight to the ripchord of believing
Sometimes the break in your heart is like the hole in the flute. Sometimes it’s the place where the music comes through.
All art is a kind of confession, more or less oblique. All artists, if they are to survive, are forced, at last, to tell the whole story, to vomit the anguish up.
Give me such shows - give me the streets of Manhattan!
The magic of the music seems to light the way.
The picture is not made by the photographer, the picture is more good or less good in function of the relationship that you have with the people you photograph.
I try to turn a place on film into a mental state. I always have three or four locations that I repeat and return to in a film, to make it more mythic. But my fiction films are relatively subjective stories, experienced though one character. And that always justifies a little stylisation in terms of landscape.
From the beginning I thought about working with the body in movement, the space between the body and clothes. I wanted the clothes to move when people moved. The clothes are also for people to dance or laugh
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