Which haiku evokes the deepest emotion
Unica new game
Help, protection and light
make of alone and small
brave, strong and big.
As a wall of books that stands to the left of the dog, I had a very good view of the captured scenery. At first I was afraid of the aggressive oils, but the supposedly magical child (it had all sorts of hocus-pocus containers) held it tightly in his small hand with the help of a dog spiked collar that the painter had left out. Speaking of omitting: The first thing that strikes you, of course, is the absence of almost all colors, a lot of it is kept in red, which reinforces the depressing impression. All in all, a seventeenth-century masterpiece about idol worshiping toddlers who weren't allowed to play with mini-giraffes.
Woof, woof ... I am not even allowed to bark loudly! So I just have a good time and enjoy the soft, warm fabric and lie on the armchair that usually only my favorite person uses. The poor child has been standing for so long now and is not allowed to move because the painter wants to see it very closely. I watch him and look at him very carefully so that nothing happens to my little mistress, because I am small, but I would defend her - and if I can do something for her and I bite, then God mercy on me -Bitten. No, no, I'm small, but you can't joke with me, then I get wild and then I'm like a lion ... My little princess often takes me on her lap and caresses me ... I could purr like a hangover, but of course I am a dog, a very special dog, because I belong to the princess. Isn't she beautiful !? And kind! We also like to play with each other. Sometimes she tries to catch me, but of course I'm much faster, and so I often just run back and forth and jump and howl with joy and then she forgets everything and laughs and jumps and ... Yes, unfortunately it often doesn't go long, then the governess comes and she has to walk well by her hand again and me next to it ... How happy I am! Nobody is as dear to me as she is! It's like the two of us were simply brought together by fate. I will never leave her ... Hopefully the painter will be finished soon ...
"Heaven agrees with us."
The mighty one. Or a majority.
And who does he resent?
The mighty one. Claim the minor.
As long as they are.
When they are empowered, Heaven agrees with them. Now say the majority of the minor to the minority of the mighty.
Heaven, he's watching.
And just send changing weather.
The magic of childhood
Conceived, carried, born. Provided.
Tucked into amulet-hung clothes.
In the company of a being of another species.
They are still at eye level. It won't stay that way.
The little man will rise.
It will have been told it was the crown of creation.
If it has kept a loving heart, it will remain attached to the little dog - who will soon be an old dog. Will it share life with him - as far as the court ceremony allows.
If the little person stays alive at all. If the doggie stays alive at all. Life is tough in these times.
It may be that one will say of the little human being that he became an angel before his time. Maybe the child will have to console himself with the fact that his pooch is now in dog heaven.
Will it ask itself whether there are different divisions of heaven - depending on the type of creature? Depending on your position in life?
Either way: it will have BEEN. Captured in a moment of love.
Oh what can I say. One would think that the life of a palace dog is simple, carefree and downright heavenly. But the truth is different. From the outside, I seem to lead the perfect life: I lie comfortably on soft, red velvet armchairs, proudly walk on thick, expensive carpets in high, golden halls, eat only the finest of the finest and am pampered by my people with loving pats. But how it looks inside me ... Pah! Truly nobody cares. Day in, day out the same rut. I'm sick! The upholstered velvet armchairs have not felt comfortable for a long time, the Persian carpets have been preventing me from walking for a long time, the wide halls have narrowed me down for a long time, the fine food has always tasted the same for a long time and the pampering pats have been uncomfortable and overwhelming for a long time . Life in a golden cage, trapped in an everlasting treadmill, does not please me, if one can even speak of a "life". How I would love to be a wild street dog who struggles for survival on the rough pavement every day and can freely answer the call of adventure. But this wish is denied me, it is a banal daydreaming that I indulge in on particularly uneventful days ... Well, the bright bell rings for the Lord's Supper. I'll be served tender beef or the finest foie gras on white china soon, but I'd swap that for a half-decayed sewer rat. Tomorrow begins another long-winded day, which is similar to the previous one and the one before and the countless ones before that. If I don't die of boredom, may the gods give me a break from this never-ending melancholy. And now, bon appetite!
How long should I sit here? This is boring. I'm hungry! Black pudding, chicken in sauce, fresh rabbit, a few pieces of carrots ... Mmm, that would be good. But that has to wait until later, we have to pose for this picture here. At least I can sit, Claudette has to stand all the time. I love her, she is my best friend. The little girl still has no idea what is in store for her. Being a princess sounds better than it is. She has to always be pretty and kind, she has to do what she is told, she has to wear clothes that she cannot breathe in, she has to marry someone who is chosen for her ... like exhausting. It has no power, it is inferior and when it is great and in power it must dedicate its life to the people and is inferior to the system. If that's power, I'll forego it. I'd rather be a dog that's free. Oh, "Place" said the old painter. I do' "Place", I am a good dog. If I don't move, I might get something to eat soon.
My dear child, do you remember my signs and looks? I was standing right next to the artist. You should concentrate entirely on me in order to look serious, thoughtful and far-sighted towards your father's wishes. I shouldn't smile, but it failed several times when you kept trying to stroke Pepita and almost fell over the back of the chair in front of you. But you did a great job. In the end, your little darling stayed in her place, just because she knew that a treat was waiting for her in my hand behind my back. How much fun did you have with the loyal pooch? Until the end she did not leave your side. You were so sick and tender. If only I had put some red powder on your pale face! Likewise on your snow-white little hands. Do you remember how upset I was when I noticed that one of the amulets had slipped on its side and was no longer visible to the painter? You were very lucky in the early morning. You wanted to watch my cousin iron your white apron and almost burned yourself because you suddenly wanted to touch the iron. Now you can just see the hard edges of the creases on the large apron. The delicate fabric was folded up small, taken from your huge wardrobe by Lucia. My cousin got in a lot of trouble and was no longer allowed to be responsible for your clothes. Do you remember how many times I had to admonish you to leave the tape around your shoulder where it was, even if it was visibly constricting you? How relieved I was that you were allowed to take off your hat. Now she lies on the pompous pillow that your future crown should actually wear. On the instructions of the famous painter, I pushed aside the heavy curtain in front of the window and draped it on the chair so that your face emerged from the dark shadow that surrounded you. The bright rays of the sun hit your eyes immediately. You had to close them immediately and it took a while before you could open your eyes again. You blinked and rubbed your eyes for what felt like an eternity. The artist was getting impatient and gave me a punishing look. We had to stop for a moment and I dried your eyes. How wonderfully your blond, soft hair shone in the sun! Your whole silhouette shone in the light of the warm sun, such a wonderful - if short - moment in your life. Your fate meant it differently to you. I miss you.
From the diary of your lady-in-waiting
I feel like I can't breathe in this beautiful dress. But I still like it very much. How nice that so many people are around and looking at me. I would prefer to play with the other children right now, but I will have to wait a little longer before I can go out again and play with the other children in the garden.
Our little Emilia, isn't she adorable! How good and calm she is here for the picture. She is just wonderful! How much has our family waited for these offspring. And now that she is here, our grandmother is really blossoming again!
My dear, you do not know which family you were born into ... But I'll give you one piece of advice: Be cheeky, wild and wonderful.
Every time I wake up, I hear her soft, gasping breath. Innocence shines in her eyes. She is a child. The social status doesn't change that.
It seems like her life is bedded on velvet. Soft and predictable. Quite predictable. Before she was born, her fate was almost certain. Your life follows a protocol, a rigid, seemingly non-negotiable framework.
She gave up her ease and the right to self-determination when she was born. Will she get some of it back one day?
At the moment, her stiff dress prevents her from exploring her world on her own. What the dress doesn't prevent, the nannies take care of. They admonish them, trim them, follow the rules of courtly upbringing. Fun and own discoveries are not included. I wonder if it is really crucial that one is prepared for adult life as early as toddler. But even if I had an answer to that question, hardly anyone would understand it. It's because of my language and my status.
But back to the Infanta. I look into her gentle eyes again. Does she miss her parents? She can hardly stand alone and the expectation of a nation rests on her shoulders. Your parents are committed to these expectations and live up to them. She doesn't know anything about it yet. Maybe she can feel it. Perhaps she suspects that the fulfillment of duty made her parents incredibly cold and distant and she does not want to accept that.
In the morning she sometimes laughs and approaches me. Sometimes she strokes me. But immediately the nannies rush towards her like overwhelming forces of nature and deprive her of this opportunity for tenderness and closeness. Just don't fluff. Life demands cool-thinking rulers. We shall see if she fulfills the life plan that has been imposed on her.
I snuggle up in my plush armchair and go back to sleep. I build the gentle, innocent look into my dream. A dream of children romping around in the grass and laughing loudly.
The power of an image
The media world of the past, without photography but with powerful and expressive images, fascinates me again and again: living faces, razor sharp in the light of the viewer, every detail is perfectly represented. No photo can surpass these paintings in terms of power. They convey a breath of life from distant times that you can feel immediately. Although it is not about free art in the current sense, but about commissioned works, these old pictures exert a great fascination: The child stands directly in front of us, it looks at me - serious and smiling at the same time, very close and yet far away. Who are you, what can you expect in later life? Great art can only be judged from a temporal distance, this image shines through the centuries into the future and remains a great secret: the work ultimately eludes representation and explanation with words. Let it be what it is - painted art that enchants timelessly!
I look at myself, me, the little one. Draped for a portrait. I am a boy disguised as a girl. I am glad that my dog Mili is so relaxed on my chair and that the viewer is so relaxed and distracted. I am not allowed to move, they say, because otherwise the bells and pendants will ring on me. What shoud that? How long do I have to stand like this? The cobwebs under my chair are permanent. What kind of cloth or piece of clothing is that on the pillow behind me? Looks so carelessly laid down. A curly blond girl would fit better here. Preferably three years older. The colors white and red are Habsburg? Just added a little brown. Am i a christmas present? Thank you for letting Mili be in the picture, otherwise I would be very alone.
It's good that mom promised me that if I put on the dress for the picture, I can have the little dog. I've wanted a dog for a long time. He can then sleep in bed with me. Then he can protect me and I no longer have to be scared at night when mom and dad go to sleep in the other building. I would give him all the food I don't like; the caviar, for example, or the stuffed goose. And one day we'd run out of the castle together - to the wet nurse's children, whom she always loves to tell me about when I can't sleep in the evening. There we will play - all day and all night and never fear, because we can always stay together. The children, my dog and me.
Abracadabra - Simsalabim!
I am a golden bell and I protect you!
Whether illness, danger or an evil eye
all of this leaves you when I sound!
Train by train I slide
I dance point by point to the beat.
From timidity to self-confident recklessness,
out of white sadness a colorful pact.
There is a great power in my works
I create fabrics, animals, people even.
Longings are kindled through me,
and hidden childhood dreams come true.
I myself am expressive, but inconspicuous,
my work resonates for centuries.
The greatness of my deeds is visible from afar,
I am so small, so effective, so powerful, so simple.
I remember this masterpiece well,
the dog's miserable whining,
the little prince who rests in himself.
And all that I created divine brush!
Unsuspecting. Or maybe. What is happening here? Me? Help please. Who shows me the way to be me, despite all the burden. A being by my side. There for me. Yes it is there! To me! Everything will be fine!
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