Light upon the shed's roof

Friday is Skyday

57

Means:

- the Rubicon has been passed.

More precisely:

-  more than half of my life ...

that is if I do reach my aim - 113 years.

Therefore:

From now on - for the coming 56 years - I shall not make (m)any compromises, anymore.

It's time:

56 years - minus or plus x - to speak out.

Not necessarily in English.

And please: No funeral eulogies before October 14, 2066.

Thank you.

Well, not best but very much

Of all the works of man I like best
Those which have been used.
The copper pots with their dents and flattened edges
The knives and forks whose wooden handles
Have been worn away by many hands: such forms
Seemed to me the noblest. So too the flagstones round old houses
Trodden by many feet, ground down
And with tufts of grass growing between them: these
Are happy works.

Von allen Werken, die liebsten
Sind mir die gebrauchten.
Die Kupfergefäße mit den Beulen und den abgeplatteten Rändern
Die Messer und Gabeln, deren Holzgriffe
Abgegriffen sind von vielen Händen: solche Formen
Schienen mir die edelsten. So auch die Steinfliesen um alte Häuser
Welche niedergetreten sind von vielen Füßen, abgeschliffen
Und zwischen denen Grasbüschel wachsen, das
Sind glückliche Werke.
Bertolt Brecht

Noble decision

Peace Nobel Prize to

Liu Xiabo

Blessed be my bad English

.... ' cause otherwise I'd bore you with a bloody long story.

Trust me, though: Life is dangling on a string.

Everyone's life.

Yes, yours too.

So, why not trying to make the best of what is dangling on a string?

Hm?

The peace of the night.

Not bucking fastards but ...

.... fucking bastards!!

Impressions d'une pleine lune

What a magic discovery ...

to see that my erected middlefinger
is able ...

 

to cause a lunar eclipse.

Juggling the Moon

Fully freed

And here the fitting song from Antonín Dvořák's Rusalka. 

Silver moon upon the deep dark sky,
Through the vast night pierce your rays.
This sleeping world you wander by,
Smiling on men's homes and ways.
Oh moon ere past you glide, tell me,
Tell me, oh where does my loved one bide?
Oh moon ere past you glide, tell me
Tell me, oh where does my loved one bide?
Tell him, oh tell him, my silver moon,
Mine are the arms that shall hold him,
That between waking and sleeping he may
Think of the love that enfolds him,
May between waking and sleeping
Think of the love that enfolds him.
Light his path far away, light his path,
Tell him, oh tell him who does for him stay!
Human soul, should it dream of me,
Let my memory wakened be.
Moon, moon, oh do not wane, do not wane,
Moon, oh moon, do not wane....

Silberner Mond du am Himmelszelt,
strahlst auf uns nieder voll Liebe.
Still schwebst du über Wald und Feld,
blickst auf der Menschheit Getriebe.
Oh Mond, verweile, bleibe,
sage mir doch, wo mein Schatz weile.
Sage ihm, Wandrer im Himmelsraum,
ich würde seiner gedenken: mög' er,
verzaubert vom Morgentraum,
seine Gedanken mir schenken.
O leucht ihm, wo er auch sei,
leucht ihm hell, sag ihm, dass ich ihn liebe.
Sieht der Mensch mich im Traumgesicht,
wach' er auf, meiner gedenkend.
O Mond, entfliehe nicht, entfliehe nicht!

Caught!

Cover Story 0017