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reflections on belonging

a palmers chronicle right bw

Graphic Novels

Antanas Garšva wrote. A calm inevitability flowed back into his unconscious. The nightingale fell silent. Above the fence it brightened. In the nightingale’s song, in himself, Garšva was searching for a lost world. Just as this modest bird had sung a thousand years ago. Its song a cipher, the first communicated code.

Photo by Vladas Braziūnas
The Greek princesses have arrived! The Greek princesses have arrived!’ the crowd shouted.
Loringhoven’s knights pulled back. The Free Imperial Knights of Westphalia stopped.
The town’s burghers ran in whatever direction they could.

Photo by Dovid Fligel
No matter how hard Grandma Rokha tried to get me to think about Him, no matter how she tried to explain about the Jews who wandered in a foreign land, all my thoughts were focused on the butterfly, which had disappeared somewhere.

The woman was not afraid. This land had never been hers, it had never belonged to her. Just like her life.

Alis Balbierius - Ričardas Gavelis - Vilnius, 1992-I
You have to read these letters. That’s your duty. Who else will do it if not you? Who else, if not you, who deliberately or by accident taught me something, but who never taught me anything completely?

Photo by Remigijus Treigys
The greatest punishment for a dictator appearing on a balcony would be the silence of the crowd gathered below. Silence as punishment and silence as self-worth.

Photo by Vladas Braziūnas
How do you get out of yourself, the way you leave home, drive out of the city, fly from one country to another? How to understand yourself, if you can’t look at yourself from the outside?

Photo by Vladas Braziūnas
Živka held the bow in her hand and shook with excitement. She so wanted to take the instrument home and be finished with it. Her dream of having a cello had come true so unexpectedly that she thought perhaps it was a Christmas miracle.

Photo by Vladas Braziūnas
When you no longer know who you are, or if you are facing some other mortal threat, what you need to do is find something to read as quickly as possible, even if it’s only a paragraph, or just two letters of the alphabet.

Photo by Benediktas Januševičius
And atop the Ivory Tower, I came to understand a simple truth: when that glory passes, life becomes so much easier

Alis Balbierius - Jurgis Kunčinas - Druskininkai, 2000-II
I rubbed the devil on its door handle—his blunt, wide forehead—with my thumb. Maybe you know, O devil, what Tūla is doing now? An inhabitant of the chthonic world, an old idiot, but in other respects, a very dear creature on the door’s metal ring… Do you know anything?



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