A lover knows only humility,
He has no choice.
He steals into your alley at night,
He has no choice.
He longs to kiss every lock of your hair,
Don’t fret,
He has no choice.
In his frenzied love for you,
He longs to break the chains of his imprisonment,
He has no choice.
A lover asked his beloved,
“Do you love yourself more than you love me?”
And the loved replied:
“I have died to myself and I live for you,
I’ve disappeared from myself and my attributes,
I am present only for you.
I have forgotten all my learnings,
But from knowing you I have become a scholar.
I have lost all my strength,
But from your power I am able.
I love myself,
I love you.
I love you,
I love myself.”
I am your lover,
Come to my side,
I will open the gate to your love.
Come settle with me,
Let us be neighbors in the stars.
You have been hiding so long,
Endlessly drifting in the sea of my love.
Even so, you have always been connected to me.
Concealed, revealed, in the norm, in the un-manifest.
I am life itself.
You have been a prisoner of a little pond,
I am the ocean and its turbulent flood.
Come merge with me.
Leave this world behind us.
Be with me,
I will open the gate to your love.
I desire you more than food or drink.
My body, my senses, my mind,
Hunger for your taste.
I can sense your presence in my heart.
Although you belong to all the world,
I wait in silent passion,
For one gesture, one glance.
I used to dislike rainy days but now, they are just…”Paris days.”
The city acquires a new depth, a warm, poetic melancholy.
That feeling of being inside a Caillebotte painting, where the real city, what I see, what i inhabit, what i fall into, is the image in the water; that wet,beautiful canvas. The rain on the asphalth, rivulets, currents, puddles become a mirror that scrambles, abstractizes, seduces….
The rain on the windows when you are sitting in a literary cafe’, and the place becomes a haven not only for the soul (as it usually is), but a toasty, welcoming,peopled orange-glow that will shelter the body in the intemperate, stormy weather. So seeing the sign of the cafe’ in the rain, in the mist, is what the ship, no longer wreck-bound, feels at the first glimpses of the watchtower in the fog, keeper of her dreams and saviour.
It is as though the rain is inside the cafe’. The window panes are frosted and dewy. We could be anywhere. We could be in Paris.
Or all of it sunk in an ocean, a majestic ruin overgrown with algaes and debris. All of it, wooden tables and chairs from Lebanon, credenzas and tapestries from Jordan. The wine, the coffee, the tea jars. They are all tubling down. And us with them.
It is as though we are sinking in a sweet, decadent oblivion. We drink in the atmosphere while we happily drown in a vague past with no memories. Where everything is possible, allowed, forgiven. And everywhere else, outside of this retro submarine, is desert.
Where can I run? You fill the world. The only place to run is within you.
From Agata e la Tempesta| Agata and the Storm
……………………………………………………………………..
They miss the whisper that runs
any day in your mind,
“Who are you really, wanderer?”—
and the answer you have to give
no matter how dark and cold
the world around you is:
“Maybe I’m a king.”
{new} Favorite drawings, paintings, collages and handwork on SketchBloom
Pilot pen on paper. January 2011
Dr. Gregory House. Watercolor on Paper. June 3, 2010
Earth and Water. Beads and yarn. June 24, 2011
Barcelona Chairs by Mies Van De Rohe, 1929 @ the CED Library in Berkeley
Queen Califia’s Garden, Totem/Sculpture. Ink, color pencils and markers. 2009
Ink on tracing paper. Kuwait, January 2010. The scene at the bottom is what I saw-or decided to see- at The Avenues, the most popular malla in Kuwait City. There is nothing like seeing photography and drawings from a trip abroad to make you realize all reality is subjective, and we choose to see what we want to. We just don’t realize it in our own backyard.
Ink on hand.book paper. Paris, 2011.
Felt tip on paper. March 22, 2011.
Ink and watercolor on paper and tracing paper. A bit of digital manipulation. Feb. 09,2011.
our very own coffee cart @ NewSchool: Cafe’ A la Carte
Pilot Pen on Paper. November 2009
Platonic Solid Exercise. Graphite on Paper. 2007
Mare Mosso Act III. Graphite and pen drawing by Gianni Aiello. Collag and pastel. March 19, 2011.
Concept for jewelry piece ‘twomoons’
Ink on Paper. September 2009
Miniature Pomegranate. Watercolor on chocolate wrap. Kuwait. January 2010
Ink on Paper. December 2010.
The Fortress of Lost Time. Graphite on paper and magazine cutouts. December 27, 2010. Miti and Gianni Aiello.
Watercolor and Graphite. November 12, 2009
Persimmon- very quick pastel rendering. November 12, 2009.
Graphite on paper and magazine cutouts. December 27, 2010. Miti and Gianni Aiello.
Earth Henna, Eucalyptus Oil. May 2, 2010.
Collage, Pilot Pen on Paper
The funambulist. Ink drawing + digital collage. August 2011.
The Sun, the Moon, and on there being no abstracts in life. Pencil, ink, watercolor on 4″X5″ canvas.2009
Ink on Paper. December 2010.
Baggalini Red.
Pencil and Watercolor on canvas
Mare Mosso Act II. Graphite drawing by Gianni Aiello. Collage. March 18,2011
Final Twomoons Piece, Summer 2008
Waiting for Godot | Static Head. Digital Collage. May 5th, 2010
Watercolor on paper. June 3, 2010
Twomoons Wax Proof-modeled after concept sketch
Coffee Carrier (delle). Graphite on paper. Kuwait. January 2010
July 27, San Diego Museum Of Art. The Age of Enlightenment – Gabrielle Emilie Le Tonnelier de Breuteuil, Marquise du Chatelet by Yinka Shonibare- Ink on hand.book paper
Ink on Paper. Calabria, Italia. September 29, 2011.
Casa Del Fascio, contrast corrected thru Photoshop, Como, 2007
