Not a sound was to be heard above the traffic
Her only gift was knowing people almost by instinct, she thought, walking on
He was almost too well dressed always
My, my. You’re turning down a beer?
Of course, you know Masaccio was the first to make use of Brunelleschi’s architectural perspective?
You see, Masaccio made an astonishing leap between the style of the San Giovanni triptych and the Trinity
No other painter, not even Leonardo, changed so quickly and with such amazing results
You must see this vaulted ceiling. The perspective, the blurring, the vanishing point
What is interesting is that the doctrine fo redemption is also a blurring, a sfumatura, of space and time
The receding diagonals give the illusion of reality so that one might, …
… in seeing the forms in the painting as real, believe in the subject
Perspective was Masaccio’s theology
We haven’t the advantage of seeing these parts in a catalog or as a print, have we?
He remembered what being alone was like
He had spent four months in the swamps
It was dawn by the time the tiger left the city
There are still too many mysteries around you
‘You will protect me,’ she said. ‘With my life,’ he replied.
There was unquestionably a job vacancy here
Everything he loved was on his doorstep
The darkness did not leave her, but it shuffled to one side
But home was always a troubled, dangerous idea for men
Women are not perfect, one must admit
That night the emperor dreamed of love
I can turn myself at will …
… into a lion
I am a person of strange and varied experience
I have met the king of the fishes and lived in the house of a woman
Gone fishing
It was hiding under a fallen branch like a scared animal
All your certainties are being blown away
Could a god, once created, become impossible to destroy?
It was love, or felt like it
Keep your secret. Secrets are for children, and spies
And for sorcerers. And for lovers too. And kings
Is that how a king should be raised?
As he kept reminding me, he was twelve years older than I was
For several years there was no communication between us at all
There were a few clumps of devil’s pokers
My despair cannot be described
The boy with the long arms was never seen again
My dad thought it would be educational
They were never going to like me anyway
It was as if I wasn’t there. In fact often I wasn’t
Somehow the moment never seemed right to ask
Tell me this is just a bad, bad dream
People were charmed and captivated
People looked forward to the future
These days she seldom glanced in his direction
The pair undressed quickly and silently
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