Saturday, April 16

The fountain of youth

Went to visit Basel the other day, had a blast, smiled a lot, watched the people. It is a diverse city, a fine cultural mix of peoples of all countries and different paths of life. From the beggar to the banker, to the old lady on the park bench, there is always something happening. Sit down at that bench, exchange a few words with that lady. Little efforts, but those moments  will eventually change the world, your efforts to be human to an other human being. Simple as that.
The fountain of youth and rejuvenation is in our own hands, I can not prove it,  but I believe it is so. And the fire of passion only burns as long as you kindle it with desire.
Thirty years ago I was a waiter across this fountain of Tinguely. Of course it was a love affair. It is always like that. She was a blond super orthodox, awesomely pretty religious knucklehead. I fall for blonds, can not help it.
So I revisited today my "fountain of youth", smiled, took a picture and then left...

Life is that way.

About Tinguely: Tinguely's art satirized the mindless overproduction of material goods in advanced industrial society.
Tinguely grew up in Basel, but moved to France as a young adult to pursue a career in art. He belonged to the Parisian avantgarde in the mid-twentieth century and was one of the artists who signed the New Realist's manifesto (Nouveau réalisme) in 1960.

Oh, the person on this picture is totally random, I believe he is cheering up his little son, that is how I remember it.

1 comment:

Seraphine said...

lol. i love your description of a blonde "pretty religious knucklehead."
i wonder what her opinion is of you?
so much for the "collective singularity" of relationships.

you only "fall" for blondes?

i like being abstract.

even with clouded eyes, one sees what one imagines, despite empirical evidence to the contrary.