11 express feel

We do as we play we live as we dream. Emotion is the color of our lives.

[poemswords]

[nedzen]

Balada călătorului

O, e-atât de bine când pe drumuri ninse Întâlneşti o casă cu lumini aprinse, Un ogeac din care se ridică fum, Când te prinde noaptea călător la drum! Sania coboară clinul de pădure. Fug în urma noastră luminişuri sure Şi-n singurătatea care ne petrece, Peste vârf de arbori, asfinţitul rece Străbătând podoaba crengilor subţiri Luminează-n aer bolţi de trandafiri. Dar amurgul palid a-nceput să scadă. Noaptea, ca un abur, creşte din zăpadă. Se ivesc departe măguri de hotar, Într-un loc se face drum pustiu de car, Şi-o fântână strâmbă pe lumina zării Pare că sporeşte liniştea-nserării... Drum de vis! E clipa mutei agonii Când alaiul Nopţii zboară pe câmpii, Când singurătatea umbrele-şi arată Şi departe-n şesuri Ziua alungată Lângă reci fruntarii alergarea-şi curmă, Cu ochi mari de spaimă să privească-n urmă, Să-şi adune-n locul unde-a-ncremenit Peste sâni de gheaţă părul despletit. Ca-ntr-o presimţire sufletul ţi-e-nchis. Unde eşti? Îţi pare că trăieşti un vis... Treci lăsând în urmă, la răspântii mute, Umbre solitare şi necunoscute, Treci ducând o parte din tristeţea lor, Un suspin, o rugă, un zadarnic dor. Iar târziu, când taina dimprejur te cheamă Şi-ţi strecoară-n suflet un fior de teamă, Singur cu povara cugetului tău Te cuprind deodată lungi păreri de rău După-o fericire care întârzie, După câte n-au fost, dar puteau să fie, După cele duse pentru totdeauna... Astfel, cu mirare, te trezeşti când luna Luminează somnul unei lumi din basme, Iar omătul umple noaptea de fantasme. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . O, e-atât de bine când pe drumuri ninse Întâlneşti o casă cu lumini aprinse, Un ogeac din care se ridică fum, Când te prinde noaptea călător la drum!

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#experiment #unobtanium #life #art #design #digital

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Il y a des moments dans la vie quand une nouvelle idée (vérité) nous croise le chemin et nous force a reconsidérer tout ce que nous croyons.

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comfort kills

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[rhubarbes]

via LE CONTAINER: …ulf

[rhubarbes]

by _georgiewilliams_

[nedzen]

insomnia

In the midst of a cold night, he gets out of bed and opens the windows. It's snowing light. No wind to animate the trees in front of the house. The night is silent. The dogs are sleeping. The snowflakes are falling almost straight. The full moon lights up the snow. He could see everything around, like he would see during the day. It's 3AM. Again Insomnia he thought out loud. This time he was not feeling tired. With only 3 hours of sleep he was feeling energised and decides to go out for a walk. Puts on jeans, a sweater, the jacked and a beanie. Puts his boots on and walks out of the house straight into the woods. Accompanied by the sound of his footsteps crushing the snow he walked for 1 hour straight when he heard a loud cry. It was a human being screaming for help. That scream sent shivers down his spine and triggered instantly a cold sweat. He stopped. Breathing slowly as to not be heard, he looked around and listened. 10 seconds passed and then the cry hit him again even more fierce than the first time. It was closer. It was the scream of a woman, she was running, she could now hear the successive cries as she was trying to escape from something. He was hesitant for a moment and didn't know if he should return home or help her. He felt fear. Fear of loosing his life. Fear of being caught there and killed by a beast or an evil man or anything. What was it ? He wanted to know.

[nedzen]

Legendary handbag designer Judith Leiber died on Saturday in Springs, New York, just hours after her husband, abstract painter Gerson Leiber, passed away. She was 97, he was 96.

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Like materials design, the act of telling stories is about breaking patterns. In fairy tales, we’re likely to come across three bears, three pigs or three sons; in modern times, an enduring joke-pattern involves three protagonists (think ‘an Englishman, an Irishman and a Scotsman walk into a bar’) while comedians, improvisers and scriptwriters speak of the ‘rule of three’. Why this obsession with the number three? The answer is simple: the first time, something happens; the second time, something similar happens, establishing a pattern; but the third time, something different happens, breaking the pattern. The first two of the king’s sons come to a sticky end, while the third slays the dragon, marries the princess, and lives happily ever after. There is nothing magical about the number three, but since a pattern has to have at least two elements, a series of three is the most efficient way of establishing a kind of symmetry in order to disrupt it.

https://aeon.co/ideas/why-symmetry-gets-really-interesting-to-physics-when-it-is-broken

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