Moaya – Images

images by Moaya -“The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.”

Excerpts from Moaya’s project on instagram pairing his photos with literary works. There are many beautiful photos there.

Call me a hardhead if you wish. Uncultured, drunken, whatever.
The world has shaped me, and I have shaped what I can . I have carried the bleeding half-steer on my shoulder that was alive a minute ago and swung him to the dull hook on the truck roof through gristle; I’ve entered the women’s can with a mop while you slept; I’ve rolled and been rolled; I’ve prayed to a tote board; I’ve been blackjacked in a pisser for making a play for a gangster’s moll; I was married to a woman with a million dollars and left her; I have crawled drunken in alleys from coast to coast; I’ve pumped gas, worked in a dog-biscuit factory, sold Christmas trees, even been a foreman; I’ve been a truckdriver, I’ve guarded doors, looking for boots in a Texas whorehouse; I lived a year on a yacht by learning how to start the auxiliary engine and by making love to the women of a rich madman with one arm who thought he was a genius at playing the organ, and I had to write the words for his damned operas, and I was drunk most of the time, and it worked until he died, but why go on?
the subject is poetry.- Charles Bukowski
– photo by Moaya

“A stick is not only wood but the negation of wood. It is the meeting in space of wood and no-wood. A stick is finite and unextended wood, a fact determined by its own denial.”
-Thomas Wolfe, Look Homeward, Angel
– photo by moaya

“Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won’t either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could.”
-Louise Erdrich, The Painted Drum
– photo by moaya

“his examination revealed that he had no fever, no pain anywhere, and that his only concrete feeling was an urgent desire to die. All that was needed was shrewd questioning…to conclude once again that the symptoms of love were the same as those of cholera.”
-Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera
– photo by moaya

“Of course,” he says, “we have no idea, now, of who or what the inhabitants of our future might be. In that sense, we have no future. Not in the sense that our grandparents had a future, or thought they did. Fully imagined cultural futures were the luxury of another day, one in which ‘now’ was of some greater duration. For us, of course, things can change so abruptly, so violently, so profoundly, that futures like our grandparents’ have insufficient ‘now’ to stand on. We have no future because our present is too volatile.” … “We have only risk management. The spinning of the given moment’s scenarios. Pattern recognition.”
-William Gibson, Pattern Recognition
– portrait of Nikko by Moaya

“According to Chekhov,” Tamaru said, rising from his chair, “once a gun appears in a story, it has to be fired.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning, don’t bring unnecessary props into a story. If a pistol appears, it has to be fired at some point. Chekhov liked to write stories that did away with all useless ornamentation.”
-Haruki Murakami, 1Q84
– Photo by Moaya

Between waking and being awake there is a moment full of doubt and dream, when you struggle to remember what the place and when the time and whether you really are.
A peevish moment of wonderment as to where the real world lies.”
– Keri Hulme , the bone people
– self portrait by Moaya