1- "I have met with but one or two persons in the course of my life who understood the art of Walking, that is, of taking walks, who had a genius, so to speak, for sauntering; which word is beautifully derived "from idle people who roved about the country, in the middle ages, and asked charity, under pretence of going à la sainte terre" — to the holy land, till the children exclaimed, "There goes a sainte-terrer", a saunterer — a holy-lander. They who never go to the holy land in their walks, as they pretend, are indeed mere idlers and vagabonds, but they who do go there are saunterers in the good sense, such as I mean. Some, however, would derive the word from sans terre, without land or a home, which, therefore, in the good sense, will mean, having no particular home, but equally at home everywhere. For this is the secret of successful sauntering. He who sits still in a house all the time may be the greatest vagrant of all, but the Saunterer, in the good sense, is no more vagrant than the meandering river, which is all the while sedulously seeking the shortest course to the sea. But I prefer the first, which indeed is the most probable derivation. For every walk is a sort of crusade, preached by some Peter the Hermit (1) in us, to go forth and reconquer this holy land from the hands of the Infidels."
2- "We hug the earth — how rarely we mount! Methinks we might elevate ourselves a little more. We might climb a tree at least. I found my account in climbing a tree once. It was a tall white pine on the top of a hill, and though I got well pitched I was well payed for it, for I discovered new mountains in the horizon which I had never seen before, — so much more of the earth and the heavens."
H.D. Thoreau, On Walking
Fotografia Tatev, Arménia (retirada internet)
Na luz infinita dos passos
nos rios cruzados dos ventos
são agora estas montanhas
razões e doridas entranhas
de outros passos tão lassos
em que nos somos sonos
de escassos e perdidos momentos.
j
Proportion
From the valleys,
Ararat appears an ordinary mountain
even small.
But here, from the peak
of another mountain
it looks
as if an invisible giant
picked it up on a cloudy palm
up to the skies.
It is necessary to climb
to realize height.
Silva Kapoutikyan (1919-) armenian poet
https://youtu.be/hAkQNCQfsy0 Djivan Gasparyan Sayat Nova
ah, paradjanov!
