Chimney

Chimney - well, and a bit of sky.

October

Not only the buzzard flies.
Time as well.
It's October again.

Friday is Skyday

18:32

Just a daily phenomenon

The last potatoes digged up, the field rakened and green manure sowed, one morello tree shortened by about two metres, peppermint and sage picked and dried;
... that happened end of August. Ah! And the magic of all those flowers ...

Meanwhile almost four weeks have flown by; since, there has happened quite a lot on this planet quite a few of which you might even have come to "know" as it has been covered in (y)our media.
One daily news you will neither have read in your daily newspaper nor heard elsewhere, though, as being published / told day by day, week by week, month by month, year by year, decade by decade that yesterday approximately 30 / 40,000 children have been dying of starvation would be bloody depressing ... well, at least damn boring, would you agree?

Life is difficult enough to thoroughly enjoy, isn't it? If only I think of that the other day a bit too much sea-salt in the tomato soup spoilt my dinner.

Who in our civilised world would be able to care about how many women have been raped in Congo or elsewhere, while I was kept busy with picking plums, for hours? I mean, it's not my or your business. I can't change anything, can I? And neither can you, hm?

Not that I would not feel pity, whenever I come to think of it for some seconds now and then; but that's life, isn't it?

One is getting raped, a second tortured, a third murdered, while I am busy with watching butterflies and (bumble-)bees enjoying their kind of milk and honey that is flowing in Seanhenge, and while you perhaps are struggling with what outfit to choose for tomorrow's dinner party.

Ah, I should not have started this. Did I write 30,000 children per day?
That means, 750,000 children within 25 days, doesn't it? Phew!

Coming to think of it: Isn't it wonderful, magic well-nigh, that despite of this marginal phenomenon not worth to daily make its way into the news, there are living more than eight billion human beings on this wonderful planet, thus about four times more than when I was born, about 20 years more than half a century ago?

Thinking positive - and aren't we told to always think positive?! - we are blessed that day by day 30- / 40,000 children are dying of starvation, aren't we?

Ah, no! Really! See? Such easily a post's content is being manipulated by thoughts about marginal daily phenomenons that are not worth mentioning.

Let alone, that I can be absolutely sure that those who are reading this are able to distinguish cynism from sarcasm, it's a great relief to know that most of those poor? nameless? anyway: unnamed creatures - and I am not talking about those 40,000 children who day by day are leaving this planet to enjoy life in this or that paradise, depending of the god their still somehow surviving parents are made to believe in - are analphabets.

In this sense.
A most joyous week to those
able to read.
May your god bless you,
and if it (read: your god) were the head of a dead sardine.

Enjoy
the peace of the night ...

in which - provided you are sleeping eight hours - approximately some more than 10,000 children are dying of starvation.

Friday is Skyday

Looking northwards at 12:14:25

Looking southwards at 12:16:37

 

Satur(day)ation

The last potato cellared for this year,
my heart rose up like a falcon to the sky:
Two bees and a bumble-bee 
enjoying a sunflower feast.

Friday is Skyday

. . .

 

Laughing Lhursday*

Once again I feel relieved
that Fortune favours fools,
or as a German saying goes,
"Die dümmsten Bauern
ernten die größten Kartoffeln."
/
"The dumbest farmers
harvest the biggest potatoes".

Sometimes a saying
can be a great comfort.

* [For first time visitors]: Typo in the title? Nah. It's just that
I would not let a tiny T spoil an avantgardistic alliteration.

 

Kind of Idyll

It's been raining.

Bowing to courageous journalists

Freedom of the press is not only endangered in war zones or dictatorships.

Today, the 1st Hamburg Press Freedom Week began; with interesting guests talking about interesting topics.

Coincidence it's September 11?

My thoughts go back ... no, not 22 years. 50 years.

September 11, 1973: Chilean coup d'état

Never shall I forget this day and the atrocities that followed. 

And I shan't forget José Carrasco. 

Chile, my tortured country

In the morning hours of 8 September 1986, shortly after a regrettably unsuccessful assassination attempt on General Pinochet, José Carrasco, editor of the magazine Análisis, was kidnapped from his flat and shot by a death squad at a cemetery wall.
The cemetery wall became a site of resistance. Residents of the adjacent poor quarter painted the wall white and decorated it with flowers.
At first, policemen came every night, painted the wall black, tore out the flowers, even sawed off an iron cross the poor of Caonchali had put up.
There, people who barely had enough money to eat, let alone buy newspapers, demanded freedom of speech and honoured the courage of the journalist and his colleagues.
Take my words as a tribute to all those who had, have and will have the courage to speak out against injustice, arbitrariness and totalitarianism of any kind.
I am not sure I would have been or would be so courageous.
The peace of the night.

Another pleasure for the eyes

Yucca filamentosa

 

Marguerites ... and the Master

As I am just once again re-reading
Bulgakov's "The Master and Margarita
and to please Paula with her favourite flower.

Friday is Skyday

Late August
these were messengers of much rain.