Monochrome Monday

...

 

Friday is Skyday

10:34 on Wednesday

13:15 on Monday

19:44 on Sunday

Ménage à trois

Ménage à trois
or

Binge of three

Monochrome Monday

. . .

A nice view

The vetches are a nice view these days
when looking up while turning a page. ;-)

Friday is Skyday

. . .

 

Beers & Books (397) – Caspar David Friedrich

Art as the centre of the world
Selected letters and writings

Caspar David Friedrich (5 September 1774 – 7 May 1840)

Relats conjunts – Goethe, Shakespeare, Barbolaire

A photograph by Miquel Àngel Vich alias Barbolaire

– Smoke hidden ghoulish faces, eyes, grimaces, torso of a female figure. Positive became negative. Smoke without sound.

– Words are mere sound and smoke, dimming the heavenly light.

– Says who?

– Goethe, Faust I.

– Lousy translation. Faust says, verse 3457: Name ist Schall und Rauch. Name is sound and smoke. Not words. May I ask who created this photographic artwork?

– Didn't you just say names are sound and smoke?

– Thanks a lot. But that was Goethe.

– Nitpicker. Let's turn the whole thing on its head for fun. What do you see now?

– The female figure now on the left side of the picture. ... Actually, the whole picture looks even more feminine. And the little astronaut in his bubble capsule looks much more determined and optimistic.

– See? There are more things in heaven and earth, Sean, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

– Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 5.

– Yes, yes. Smart arse. But now: What is the name of the poetic photo artist?

– The name is at the top under the photo. ;-)

Metamorphosis Kafkaesque a

This morning, as I was waking up
from sweet dreams,
I discovered that in my bed
I had been changed into a tiny insect
and now was sitting on my glasses
reading Kafka's Verwandlung:

One morning, as Gregor Samsa was waking up
from anxious dreams, he discovered
that in his bed he had been changed
into a monstrous verminous bug.
He lay on his armour-hard back and saw,
as he lifted his head up a little,
his brown, arched abdomen divided up
into rigid bow-like sections.
From this height the blanket, just about ready
to slide off completely, could hardly stay in place.
His numerous legs, pitifully thin in comparison
to the rest of his circumference,
flickered helplessly before his eyes.
“What’s happened to me,” he thought.
It was no dream.

Monochrome Monday

Not Kafkaesque.

 

Swarming stupidity

Typing swarm intelligence after 0,13 seconds I got told there are 1,570.000 entries.

Afterwards, I hesitated to type swarm idiocy.

The peace of the night.