Nocturna Artificialia (Short) | Quay Brothers | 1979
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@liminalflares
Nocturna Artificialia (Short) | Quay Brothers | 1979
NOCTURNE (2026), a short film by Anne Breymann
Something I have been thinking about a fair bit recently is how important it is to know how to talk to people with dementia, and how so many people don't actually have any real awareness of how to do that, so, off the top of my head, here are a few things that might help:
the way you frame your conversations is important! People with dementia are often, particularly at the earlier stages, very much aware that their memory is getting worse. This can make them very anxious, which isn't fun for anyone, least of all them. One of the most common things that people say to people with dementia is "do you remember ___?" as a way to try and prompt their memory. This feels helpful, but it's not. Because hey, in all likelihood, that person does not remember ___, and being confronted with this fact is not going to make them feel great. Remember that they literally have a degenerative brain disease; they're not going to suddenly regain their memories because you tested them. Instead, try talking about your own memories. Tell them what you remember. Tell it like a story. If they remember, then they can join in. If not, then hey, it's a nice story.
don't correct them if they say something wrong. Their version of reality is not going to be the same as yours. That's just a given. My grandma is often convinced that she's just on a very long holiday in a nice hotel, and that her dad is waiting outside in the car. I'm not going to tell her "uh, actually, you're in a care home and your dad died 50 years ago," because who's that going to help? Quite literally no-one. It'll just confuse her more, and she's already confused enough. Even if the person is saying something that's making them anxious - a common one is believing that people are stealing from them, or that someone is being unkind to them - then it's easier to try and distract them by trying to talk about something that you know makes them happy, rather than to outright tell them that they're wrong. Being consistently told that they're wrong can make them react defensively; they're not children, and they (usually) know it. It's just easier not to get into a confrontation.
get used to repetition. Don't get frustrated when you have the same conversation 25 times in two minutes. It's going to happen. For them, it's the first time you've had that conversation; they won't understand why you're angry at them for asking a question. It's completely normal to feel frustrated, but the onus is on you not to make it their problem. My grandma's short term memory is, charitably, about 3 seconds long. A conversation with her at this point is like rehearsing for a play; I know her lines, and I know mine. That's just how it is. She gets just as much joy out of telling me that she likes my cardigan for the 86th time as she did the first time she said it. People with dementia are not able to retain the information or the memory of that previous conversation; reminding them that you've already answered their question is just going to confuse and upset them.
don't take things personally. They might say things that are unkind. They might say completely inappropriate things. Again: their brain is deteriorating. It is a medical condition. They're not becoming bad people, or showing their 'true selves' to be evil and rage-fuelled. It's a combination of the fact that they're living in a perpetual state of confusion, which can lead to frustration and anger, and the fact that their ability to process and respond to information is affected by the dementia itself. If they say something cruel to you, you just have to take it on the chin and recognise it as a symptom of a disease that they're not able to control. Step out of the room for a moment if it gets too much. I've been fortunate in that my grandma has never experienced this symptom, but it's very common, and it's no reflection of you, or them.
don't treat them like children. My grandmother is 92 years old and she will look at you like you're the bane of her life if you try and tell her what to do, or use baby talk. Keep your sentences short and clear to avoid confusion, but don't ask them if they need you to clean their wittle fingies.
try and avoid open-ended questions, especially ones that involve memory recall, like "what did you do on the weekend?". My grandma was an absolute queen at making shit up when people asked her that, because she couldn't remember a damn thing, and she never liked to admit that she couldn't remember, because it made her stressed and anxious. "I picked up leaves" was her personal favourite, for some reason. I used to just tell her about my weekend instead, and sometimes she would joyfully tell me (completely falsely) that she also went to the shops, and that was much less stressful for her; she wasn't actively trying to come up with an answer to cover for her own lack of memory, and instead felt like she was part of the conversation on her own, equal terms.
most importantly: don't try and pull them back to reality. The best way I've learnt to communicate with anyone with dementia is to enter theirs instead. Sometimes, this is referred to as 'validation therapy'. It's about acknowledging that the reality of someone with dementia is as real to them as your reality is to you, and you're not going to be able to 'reorient' them to your version of reality, because they don't have the short term memory or ability to retain information that would enable that. Put simply: if my grandma asks when my uncle is going to come home, I gain nothing from (correctly) informing her that he's dead. This just upsets her, because every time she hears it, she's receiving the news of his death for the first time. That sends her into a spiral of grief and anxiety that remains even after the memory of his death has vanished again. Instead, I just tell her that he'll be home after lunch. She nods, accepts it, and we're both happy. My uncle is still dead, but in her world, he's going to come home soon. It's a way of having empathy for the person with dementia, and acknowledging that your reality, or objective 'truth', is not more important than their wellbeing.
Godspeed, and best of luck to anyone who needs this advice, because I truly wish that no-one did.
Giant False Leaf Katydid Nymph (Pseudophyllus titan, Pseudophyllinae, Tettigoniidae) by Sinobug (itchydogimages) on Flickr. Pu’er, Yunnan, China See more Chinese grasshoppers, katydids and crickets on my Flickr site HERE…..
audubonsociety
Have you ever heard of a Ruby-topaz Hummingbird? These hummingbirds can be typically found around the Amazonian savanna habitats from Colombia east through Venezuela, the Guianas, Brazil and eastern Bolivia.
This week's Audubon Takeover features the beautiful photography of Camilo Sanabria Grajales @@camielazulejo!
Once again yelling on my soap box about how you don’t GET to love my posts on the beauty and complexity of butch identity and queering masculinity if you don’t support trans men and transmasculine people.
Butch identity doesn’t just go hand in hand with trans manhood and transmasculinity: they are chosen family, they’re friends and comrades, lovers and beloved.
If you deny the lived experiences of trans men and transmasculine people you don’t get to pretend like you see the beauty in the complexity of butchness.
Fuck you, fuck off, you don’t get to claim you love me while you hate my closest kin.
this is my first time in the pacific northwest. we drove through a forest so wet and foggy you couldn’t see the bends in the road ten yards ahead of you and it straight up felt like a horror game until we emerged into a sunny valley with a rainbow over it and then we went to a taco bell and in it there was a guy dressed like a hot dog and a guy dressed like hamburger. is it all like this
JAR (Joel Arthur Rosenthal) sheep head hair clip
Pearl, sapphire, aluminum, silver, gold
Animation time works differently. Fifteen seconds for them is five hours for me. Kinda makes you wonder. Five hours for me must be like five days for my animator
I am so tired of short-attention-span, trim-the-fat culture. All writing advice these days is for how to write like Chuck Palahniuk. "Cut 'think', cut 'feel', cut 'wonder' - only action, only pushing forward, show and move and move and move." What if I could emulate this style, and still don't want to? What if I want to write like Henry James, with three paragraphs of introspective musings between each dialogue line? The music advice is, "make it shortform, make it Tik-Tok compatible, make it punchy, hit the refrain as soon as possible." What if I want that 10-minute prog rock piece? What if I want that symphony? What if I want it slow and luxurious and lazy? Movies. Series. Poetry. Bodies. Everything is "trimmed trimmed trimmed trimmed, stripped bare, you have three seconds to win me over, make it airport chic." I don't want to win you over, then, I guess. I want the fat left it. I want the pleasure and the indolence and the indulgence. Fuck this art-advice that's always "your art needs Ozempic."
Another public service announcement. This time it’s air quality. Some of you are probably in it already if you’re in eastern Canada, New England or New York, but it’s sliding south, a huge mass of wildfire smoke. Please be careful. When it starts getting bad, especially, like when the sky gets orange or brownish, it’s best to run air purifiers in the house and wear N95 or KN95 masks when you have to go outside.
It harms your lungs and it’s especially bad for children (and pets!) or anyone with health problems. There are all kinds of chemicals in that smoke. It’s not only trees that are burning. The heat already makes it harder to breath. This makes it worse.
If any of you are experiencing it, feel free to tell about it in the comments. 💚
Also, throw out the mask every day and shower before you get in bed if you’ve been out or you’ll be breathing the particles all night. Stuff like that. It gets all over you, your skin, your hair, your clothes.
It's a large (and shifting) smoke plume, so stay safe, folks. Look up how to make a "Corsi-Rosenthal Box" if you need an air purifier inside.
I know this map shows specific areas but as of July 16th I doubt it's accurate, all of Western PA is covered in smoke, so I expect it has shifted downwards
Smoke plumes shift a lot. The further east/southeast you are from these fires, the more drastic the shifting will be. And there will always be uncertainty because ironically, smoke can make it difficult for satellite systems to detect wildfires.
BlueSky Canada has a prediction map of their modeled data here:
church of St Mary, Clipsham, Rutland
Vladimir Serov, The Worker (1960) and The Builder (1964)
transition timeline
winding up for a thunderous soviet slap on th ass
Kang CheolGyu aka 강철규 aka CheolGyu Kang aka Kang Cheol Gyu aka Kang Chieol-gyu (South Korean, b. 1990, Gimcheon, South Korea) - Fever 열(熱), 2025, Paintings: Oil on Canvas
When you have a large family, and to me our chickens have always been family, there is room for a great deal of love. But there are also many painful goodbyes.
We have had Aron ever since he was a tiny chick peeping beneath the protective wings of his mother, Selma. He grew up here in Käxsundet, going from a fluffy ball of down to a magnificent rooster with the most beautiful iridescent plumage.
For several years, Aron, together with his little brother Jack, was perfectly content to let his father, Rufus, be the head rooster of the flock. But when Rufus grew old, it was Aron who took over the role. To be perfectly honest, he was not always entirely suited to the job. It did happen, from time to time, that he would call the hens over after discovering a particularly tasty treat, only to promptly eat it himself while they looked on in apparent disbelief. But in the grand scheme of things, that was a very small flaw indeed.
He grew into his role and spent many happy years strutting proudly around with his flock. He was especially fond of Ellen and Ester, both of whom have passed away relatively recently. And I do believe that age finally caught up with Aron after he lost Ester just a few weeks ago. Even so, he continued bravely watching over the chicken run. During his final weeks, he grew particularly close to Hedda and Klara, two of the newer members of our family. It warmed our hearts to see, although he never courted another hen after Ester was gone.
A few days ago, he stopped crowing. It was clear that he was approaching his final farewell. Yet until the very end, he continued to patrol the chicken run and keep himself impeccably groomed, as befits a proper rooster. He thoroughly enjoyed standing in the sunshine, having grown a little stiff and chilly with age. And he loved eating sweetcorn and blueberries directly from our hands.
Last night, when I went out to close up the henhouse, he was standing there waiting for me just inside the hatch. He received a few kernels of sweetcorn, and then I lifted him onto his perch because it had grown dark inside the coop.
During the night, he fell asleep for the last time, leaving behind an enormous emptiness.
Now he is reunited with Ester and Ellen, resting beside them after a very long and very beautiful life.
Aron, beloved rooster.
2015-2026.