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<rss xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" version="2.0"><channel><atom:link rel="hub" href="http://tumblr.superfeedr.com/" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom"/><description>… we, as individuals, we wonder… how to live, how to be happy, how to love, how to be ourselves… 
many doors have been openned… dare to go through one…


do you wonder…?   somewherewondering@gmail.com</description><title>wondering......</title><generator>Tumblr (3.0; @somewherewondering)</generator><link>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/</link><item><title>"He did not recognize the person he saw there as himself. He thought that he had spotted a stranger..."</title><description>“He did not recognize the person he saw there as himself. He thought that he had spotted a stranger in the mirror (…) .&lt;br/&gt;
He tried to remember himself as he had been before, but he found it difficult. He looked at this new Quinn and shrugged. It did not really matter. He had been one thing before, and now he was another. It was neither better nor worse. It was different, and that was all.”&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; - &lt;em&gt;Paul Auster,  &lt;em&gt;City of Glass&lt;/em&gt; (&lt;em&gt;The New York Trilogy&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;/em&gt;</description><link>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/2148217348</link><guid>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/2148217348</guid><pubDate>Thu, 09 Dec 2010 01:33:24 +0100</pubDate></item><item><title>"Most people don’t pay attention to such things. They think of words as stones, as great..."</title><description>“Most people don’t pay attention to such things. They think of words as stones, as great unmoveable objects with no life, as monads that never change.”&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; - &lt;em&gt;Paul Auster, &lt;em&gt;The New York Trilogy&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;</description><link>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1729729233</link><guid>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1729729233</guid><pubDate>Mon, 29 Nov 2010 21:46:46 +0100</pubDate></item><item><title>"L’art de l’écrivain consiste surtout à nous faire oublier qu’il emploie des mots."</title><description>“L’art de l’écrivain consiste surtout à nous faire oublier qu’il emploie des mots.”&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; - &lt;em&gt;Henri Bergson&lt;/em&gt;</description><link>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1719087580</link><guid>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1719087580</guid><pubDate>Sun, 28 Nov 2010 23:24:32 +0100</pubDate></item><item><title>"My wanting to take a photograph appears as fast as a bolt and without warning when I spot the..."</title><description>“My wanting to take a photograph appears as fast as a bolt and without warning when I spot the subject. I enjoy exploring, looking for things that stop me, or frighten me. To fear to take a picture usually means you want to take it.”&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; - &lt;em&gt;Dmitri Kasterine&lt;/em&gt;</description><link>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1695598605</link><guid>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1695598605</guid><pubDate>Sat, 27 Nov 2010 00:44:47 +0100</pubDate></item><item><title>"He will stop hoping for anything and live only for now, this moment, this passing moment the now..."</title><description>“He will stop hoping for anything and live only for now, this moment, this passing moment the now that is here and then not here, the now that is gone forever.”&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; - &lt;em&gt;Paul Auster, &lt;em&gt;Sunset Park&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;</description><link>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1518188007</link><guid>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1518188007</guid><pubDate>Mon, 08 Nov 2010 21:46:21 +0100</pubDate></item><item><title>"That was the end of the first part of Paris. Paris was never to be the same again although it was..."</title><description>“That was the end of the first part of Paris. Paris was never to be the same again although it was always Paris and you changed as it changed. (…) There is never any ending to Paris and the memory of each person who has lived in it differs from that of any other. We always returned to it no matter who we were or how it was changed or with what difficulties, or ease, it could be reached. Paris was always worth it and you received return for whatever you brought to it. But this is how Paris was in the early days when we were very poor and very happy.”&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; - &lt;em&gt;Ernest Hemingway, &lt;em&gt;A Moveable Feast&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;</description><link>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1444634066</link><guid>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1444634066</guid><pubDate>Sun, 31 Oct 2010 07:00:43 +0100</pubDate></item><item><title>"Maybe this world is another planet’s hell."</title><description>“Maybe this world is another planet’s hell.”&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; - &lt;em&gt;Aldous Huxley&lt;/em&gt;</description><link>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1437287684</link><guid>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1437287684</guid><pubDate>Sat, 30 Oct 2010 06:22:13 +0200</pubDate></item><item><title>"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or..."</title><description>“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.”&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; - &lt;em&gt;Gabriel García Márquez, &lt;em&gt;One hundred years of solitude&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;</description><link>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1426566084</link><guid>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1426566084</guid><pubDate>Fri, 29 Oct 2010 00:41:35 +0200</pubDate></item><item><title>"The truth is in each character, so the truth is not about a fact but about how characters feel about..."</title><description>“The truth is in each character, so the truth is not about a fact but about how characters feel about that fact.”&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; - &lt;em&gt;Virginia Woolf&lt;/em&gt;</description><link>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1413064865</link><guid>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1413064865</guid><pubDate>Wed, 27 Oct 2010 06:22:13 +0200</pubDate></item><item><title>"- Pero no hay otra alternativa a la cultura -le dije- que la barbarie.
- Permíteme -objetó él-. La..."</title><description>“- Pero no hay otra alternativa a la cultura -le dije- que la barbarie.&lt;br/&gt;
- Permíteme -objetó él-. La barbarie es lo contrario de la cultura, pero únicamente dentro del sistema de ideas que la cultura nos propone. Fuera de este sistema, es posible que lo contrario sea un cosa muy distinta o simplemente que no haya contrario.”&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; - &lt;em&gt;Thomas Mann, &lt;em&gt;Doktor Faustus&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;</description><link>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1405035926</link><guid>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1405035926</guid><pubDate>Tue, 26 Oct 2010 09:14:51 +0200</pubDate></item><item><title>"When I’m photographing people, I don’t like to give any direction. I react to my..."</title><description>“When I’m photographing people, I don’t like to give any direction. I react to my subjects in their environment and if it’s going well, I get so immersed in it that I become one with the camera.”&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; - &lt;em&gt;Jim Marshall&lt;/em&gt;</description><link>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1352188010</link><guid>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1352188010</guid><pubDate>Tue, 19 Oct 2010 19:17:05 +0200</pubDate></item><item><title>"I’ve found that photography has little to do with the things you see and everything to do with..."</title><description>“I’ve found that photography has little to do with the things you see and everything to do with the way you see them”&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; - &lt;em&gt;Elliot Erwitt&lt;/em&gt;</description><link>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1337258235</link><guid>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1337258235</guid><pubDate>Sun, 17 Oct 2010 19:44:19 +0200</pubDate></item><item><title>"Je fus placé à mi-distance de la misère et du soleil."</title><description>“Je fus placé à mi-distance de la misère et du soleil.”&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; - &lt;em&gt;Albert Camus&lt;/em&gt;</description><link>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1308726719</link><guid>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1308726719</guid><pubDate>Thu, 14 Oct 2010 00:56:24 +0200</pubDate></item><item><title>Happy 70th Birthday, John!</title><description>&lt;iframe width="400" height="299" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/njG7p6CSbCU?wmode=transparent&amp;autohide=1&amp;egm=0&amp;hd=1&amp;iv_load_policy=3&amp;modestbranding=1&amp;rel=0&amp;showinfo=0&amp;showsearch=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p&gt;Happy 70th Birthday, John!&lt;/p&gt;</description><link>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1274989215</link><guid>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1274989215</guid><pubDate>Sat, 09 Oct 2010 11:31:01 +0200</pubDate></item><item><title>"La literatura”, terminó Mario Vargas Llosa, “es mi manera de vivir, como decía Flaubert...."</title><description>““La literatura”, terminó Mario Vargas Llosa, “es mi manera de vivir, como decía Flaubert. No tendré otra, con sus sumas y sus restas, esa es la felicidad de mi vida. La literatura me ha dado lo mejor que tengo; los amigos, las experiencias. La entraña de mi vocación no es otra que la literatura, y de ella sale todo lo que soy y todo lo que tengo. Es lo mejor que me ha pasado”.”&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; - &lt;em&gt;Mario Vargas Llosa en el diario &lt;em&gt;El País&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;</description><link>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1263762814</link><guid>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1263762814</guid><pubDate>Thu, 07 Oct 2010 21:17:14 +0200</pubDate></item><item><title>"Life had seemed so simple that morning when I had wakened and found the false spring and heard the..."</title><description>“Life had seemed so simple that morning when I had wakened and found the false spring and heard the pipes of the man with his herd of goats and gone out and bought the racing paper.&lt;br/&gt;
But Paris was a very old city and we were young and nothing was simple there, not even poverty, nor sudden money, nor the moonlight, nor right and wrong nor the breathing of someone who lay beside you in the moonlight.”&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; - &lt;em&gt;Ernest Hemingway, &lt;em&gt;A Moveable Feast&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;</description><link>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1248619843</link><guid>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1248619843</guid><pubDate>Tue, 05 Oct 2010 13:22:18 +0200</pubDate></item><item><title>"By then I knew that everything good and bad left and emptiness when it stopped. But if it was bad,..."</title><description>“By then I knew that everything good and bad left and emptiness when it stopped. But if it was bad, the emptiness filled up itself. If it was good you could only fill it by finding something better.”&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; - &lt;em&gt;Ernest Hemingway, &lt;em&gt;A Moveable Feast.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;</description><link>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1234390747</link><guid>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1234390747</guid><pubDate>Sun, 03 Oct 2010 11:57:00 +0200</pubDate></item><item><title>"I thought of Miss Stein and Sherwood Anderson and egotism and mental laziness versus discipline and..."</title><description>“I thought of Miss Stein and Sherwood Anderson and egotism and mental laziness versus discipline and I thought who is calling a lost generation? (…) I thought that all generations were lost by something and always had been and always would be.”&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; - &lt;em&gt;Ernest Hemingway, &lt;em&gt;A Moveable Feast&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;</description><link>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1226813818</link><guid>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1226813818</guid><pubDate>Sat, 02 Oct 2010 09:36:37 +0200</pubDate></item><item><title>Video</title><description>&lt;iframe width="400" height="225" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/q0EcNdM79sA?wmode=transparent&amp;autohide=1&amp;egm=0&amp;hd=1&amp;iv_load_policy=3&amp;modestbranding=1&amp;rel=0&amp;showinfo=0&amp;showsearch=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;</description><link>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1221311902</link><guid>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1221311902</guid><pubDate>Fri, 01 Oct 2010 13:20:15 +0200</pubDate></item><item><title>"After writing a story I was always empty and both sad and happy, as though I had made love, and I..."</title><description>“After writing a story I was always empty and both sad and happy, as though I had made love, and I was sure this was a very good story although I would notknow truly how good until I read it over the next day.”&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; - &lt;em&gt;Ernest Hemingway, &lt;em&gt;A Moveable Feast&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;</description><link>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1214566046</link><guid>http://somewherewondering.tumblr.com/post/1214566046</guid><pubDate>Thu, 30 Sep 2010 09:15:30 +0200</pubDate></item></channel></rss>

