The Rabbi in Berlin 12 minutes

Offering to Yemaya 6:00

Other Truths 13:00

Blue Swee 4:00

Run 4:00

Goat's Head (Italian version) 4 :00

Picture yourself in a skull cap flying kites against a marble sky. Birds fly out like suds along a pixie stick. Thoughts meander a restless wind stumbling blindly making their way across. Do you hear the winter star coming down into decadence into excess? It's the atmosphere of Obeah VooDoo. It's California. Itself didn't take long. And myself recorded an awful lot.Aphrodisiac and delicious for the most part making the most out of parts most people discard. Mannish water makes the bamboo strong. The man only the male called ram-goat legs head intestines testicles. Goats Head Soup Super Deluxe Unboxing Summersalt The Long Torso Marina Leopard lemon pimiento green banana pieces cut function zoom glitch eclipse. Bruce Jenner Caitlyn Jenner Wheaties Jenner Jenner Visitor Center. Highly recommend on a nice day for a picnic or sunset view with surf and sea. Equally as lovely as the profusion of wildflowers. Also it was very cold and windy so dress warmly. Unlike Mick and the boys in makeup Marilyn Monroe see-thru fabric a bowl of stew with eyes. This landform is a sub-unit riptide frequented by beachcombing mammals. There are restroom facilities a parking lot and picnictables. Inciting inviting the binocular world an electric blender. Jai guru.--in response to Goat's Head (Italian Version) 4:00John Peffer, 2022

Damaged Visions 9:00

In Gorewitz’ mirroring of the traumatized mind, “The war never stops,” and “everything is filtered” through a montage of Nazi warfare and familial loss. The past has so little regard for its place that Nazi soldiers continue to march—a march of time that doesn’t go anywhere and keeps the horrors stomping at the back—and sometimes the front— of the speaker’s mind. In memory-like footage, images of village life slide over each other, a close up of barbed wire could double as flames and Hebrew letters as well as the barriers of the killing camps, and a sung Yiddish lullaby only unnerves us; in damaged vision, little remains just itself. Setting us in his mother’s birthplace, Szeged, Romania, its 60,000 Jews decimated by the Nazis, Gorewitz wonders whether his grandfather’s death was a suicide or a murder, and whether part of his grandfather lives in the filmmaker, and whether part of the filmmaker has been buried with his grandfather. Through this barrage of conscious and subconscious knowing, Gorewitz asks, “Are others feeling this?” This liminal space might be dreamlike, but as Gorewitz says, the haunted person becomes “an exile to dreams.” How then, we wonder, can the filmmaker follow the famous rabbinical teaching mentioned early in the film: “The world is a narrow bridge, and the important thing is not to be afraid.” Damaged Visions is both why such instruction is so difficult, and why art—which Gorewitz reminds us was once thought “barbaric” after the Holocaust—provides the handrails.

Past Present

Past Present captures something of what we can imagine it must have felt like for Moses atop Sinai receiving the Torah, the Ten Commandments — winds wailing, thunder cracking, light and shadow shifting across a solitary landscape. The roiling heavens are at once both near and threatening, and remote and serene. The mountains stand still as the sky moves vertiginously around them, and then the mountains themselves move through darkness. You can hear glaciers splitting off into the sea. And against all this cosmic duality — mountain/sky, howling/silence, light/darkness — the letters of the Hebrew alphabet clamber across the face ofthe mountain, first large and then smaller and smaller, more and more numerous. I love how the aleph-bet seems to be emerging from the void into consciousness — much as all knowledge emerges, piecemeal, fragmentarily. Yet, just as the title Past Present implies, letters are ultimately capable of coherence, of creating a unity that transcends time. These letters are like living things going out to populate the universe with the divine speech. They recall for us that during revelation, the letters came together on the stone tablets of the Ten Commandments. I’m reminded of the story in Jewish tradition of the child who prays by reciting the aleph-bet. Hecan’t read but he knows his letters, so he does what he can. In Past Present the viewer is that child, just at the dawn of language — through language, developing consciousness; and through consciousness, coming to know holiness in this human world. — Linda Stern, Poet, Editor

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