... That implies that between two scenes – a scene being "a unified action... that normally takes place in a single location and in a single period of time" – there is a narrative, a extra-diegetic ellipsis, with the consequence that the expectator is not inhibited from filling it with a a duration. This projection can be inhibited in various ways: in case the characters can still be surprised, feel the lapses within a given scene, it suffices to make them surprised and disoriented at the beginning of each scene, at each different location-time.

His sense of loss became impossible to sustain; his enthusiasm for everything to which he'd been devoted for the past seventy-six years evaporated like a dream. he was not repelled, or bewildered, by the phase he was leaving behind – but he had no desire to extend or repeat it.
His tools, his clothes, the workshop itself, all melted away, leaving behind a featureless gray plain, stretching to infinity beneath a dazzling blue sky, sunless but radiant. He waited calmly to discover his new vocation – remembering the last transition, and thinking: These brief moments between are a life in themselves. He imagined picking the same train of thoght and advancing it, slightly, the next time.
Then empty ground grew a vast room around him, stretching in all directions for hundreds of meters, full of row after row of wooden specimen drawers. A high ceiling with dusty skylights came together above him, completing the scene. He blinked in the gloom. He was wearing heavy black trousers and a waistcoat over a stiff white shirt. His exoself, having chosen an obsession which would have been meaningless in a world of advanced computers, had dressed him for the part of a Victorian naturalist.

Nice to know you're fudging again.
Sort of late now, but I wanted to say hi
Got two e-mails from Lygia Clark's son today,
we'll meet in Rio next Friday (next week's Friday)

Wondering what to ask, asking myself if improvisation + intuition aren't, in this case, the best lack of option.

big kiss

rog

When men first sense the arrival of an orgasm, those feelings emanate from the epididymis and the spermatic cords which contract and spasm to move sperm up the ductus (vas) deferns into the ampullary gland or ampulla. The ampulla filling with sperm accentuates sexual stimulation pleasure. Continued penile stimulation soon triggers a hardening of the seminal vesicles which also discharge fluid. The sperm and seminal fluid in the ampulla then flows into the ejaculatory ducts. Sufficient pressure quickly builds in the ejaculatory ducts to trigger a hardening of the prostate, which discharges directly into the urethra. Ejaculation is inevitable once the prostate hardens. Finally, the valves at the ends of the ejaculatory ducts open and the urethral bulb is quickly filled, triggering the ejaculation reflex. Semen discharged from the penis comes in a distinct sequence of partially mixed emissions: 1. prostatic fluid (10%); 2. sperm (2%) and ampullary gland fluid (6%); 3. seminal fluid (70%) and again; 4. prostatic fluid (12%).

Mother: "Drop me a line one of these days"
Son: "I`m an ape, Mom. Apes don`t drop lines."

October 28th 1963
At this moment I have discovered my current great crisis. If I still had any caprice to think that my commitment to art was balanced with life in the sense of a value and affection, at this moment in which I propose to abandon everything, my children, my grandson whom I adore and my friends (everything most dear to me in the world), I clearly see that my work is above everything else and it is above my heart. I already knew it was above my sex, but deep down, I, who am so so affectionate towards the people I love, had the illusion that everything was important within my personality. (...) Perhaps my revolt comes from this other side, that of affection, because I know that it is delicious to be a grandmother and I cannot be one like all the others. (...) I, who had analysis for years just to become a woman and be more like other people, always said that if my art disappeared because of this I would prefer to be a real person than an artist who compensated for her frustration through artistic creation. It was proved that I was really an artist. Now it is the moment for my solitude as a human being to be proved, because my path is open. It is the path of choice – I will have to accept my separation from everything that I adore and live exclusively through my art, far from everyone and everything. Precisely now that I no longer believe in the work of art... But I firmly believe in the self-portrait of the artist by means of his work which also shows the self-portrait of a whole period of time. I also know that I cannot deny myself through this self-elaboration without irredeemably destroying myself. I will, despite... everything which holds me down affectionately, which is not so little, here I give my testimony, now.

I feel dilacerated between two forces which are extremes as a concept of life. A long time ago I had chosen, ah... but this distance... this journey is much longer than it. It is awareness. I begin to understand that no one can escape from this awareness. It is necessary to have the courage to take artificial compensation, it is necessary to go naked, bared down to our root, it is necessary to look within, with fear, with terror (...) up to what point will I forgive myself? Up to what point will my children forgive me? Only time will never forgive me. If I outlive my time I will be mercilessly stripped bare, without apologies, without affection, because what will be left will be my self-portrait, which is my work. (...) For it to bear this great strength it is necessary for it to become more and more impersonalized, dead, an amalgam which lends itself to all deformations, elastic and resistant.

Oi fofa
>
> achei muito bacana seu site
> vou xeretar nos depoimentos dos outros - por hora queria que voce
> consertasse um detalhe, please: tenho 35 e não 25 aninhos.
>
> Com muito orguio.
>
> Linkei /publiquei. Mas ando meio em baixa com a escreveção, achando
> meu texto muito fraquinho.... há de passar e evoluir...
>
> beijo
>
> rog