In memoriam

Antoinette leBlanc

yesterday you were here, as free as a bird.
Now you are back where you come from, life's like recycyling; becoming a tird.
I love you grandma...

-X- Anton

Word of the Day: paragon

paragon

A model of excellence or perfection; as, "a paragon of beauty; a paragon of eloquence."

highlights of photography part 1

source

word of the day: histrionics

histrionics

a deliberate display of emotion for effect

a performance of play

Rorshach tile#2

MSN portrait#3: Sol leWitt

At first Sol found the internet a little confusing. But as everyone knows about Sol; he doesn't give up easily! Later he really found out about how joyfull the web can be through services like chatting and skype.

Word of the day: portent

por·tent

Pronunciation (pôrtnt, pr-)

1. An indication of something important or calamitous about to occur; an omen.

2. Prophetic or threatening significance: signs full of portent.

3. Something amazing or marvelous; a prodigy.

Rorshach tile#1

Beauty

Has a flower somehow beauty?

Is there beauty somehow in a fruit?

No: they have colour and form

And existence only.

Beauty is the name of something that does not exist

Which I give to things in exchange for the pleasure they give me.

Commonman philosophy: Al bundy

Al Bundy: "If your shoes look like shit, you look like shit."

Inspiration: Shakespeare

William Shakespeare - All the world's a stage (from As You Like It 2/7)

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.