a thinking woman

cyanparade:

Backdrop design for a client, printed size is 5 meter x 6 meter

humansofnewyork:

I asked the mother for a photo, but she said the decision was up to her son. So I asked the boy. He stood up, walked over, looked me up and down, and said: “Prove to me you’re not a terrorist.”

(Kampala, Uganda)

likeafieldmouse:

King Minos’s Labyrinth

"In Greek mythology, the Labyrinth (Greek λαβύρινθος labyrinthos) was an elaborate structure designed and built by the legendary artificer Daedalus for King Minos of Crete at the palace Knossos.

Its function was to hold Minos’s son, Minotaur, a mythical creature that was half man and half bull.

Daedalus had so cunningly made the Labyrinth that he could barely escape it after he built it.

Every nine years, Minos made King Aegeus pick seven young boys and seven young girls to be sent to Daedalus’s creation, the Labyrinth, to be eaten by the Minotaur.

After his death, Minos became a judge of the dead in the underworld. The Minoan civilization of Crete has been named after him by the archaeologist Arthur Evans.

In colloquial English, labyrinth is generally synonymous with maze, but many contemporary scholars observe a distinction between the two: maze refers to a complex branching (multicursal) puzzle with choices of path and direction; while a single-path (unicursal) labyrinth has only a single, non-branching path, which leads to the center. A labyrinth in this sense has an unambiguous route to the center and back and is not designed to be difficult to navigate.”

[2/11/07]

trees lit
themselves
on fire
today

the tender 
trembling
leaves
aflame

licking
a sedate
blue sky

beatonna:

time for haircut

torchwielder:

Seasons have changed and the Cold War codes have become useless.

This station remains operational, endlessly, after the war, sputtering white noise and numbers out of sequence.

The transparency is lethal. Clumsily eroded.

We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another, unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made of layers, cells, constellations.
Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 4 (1971)

mt-satsuki:

老爺柿

Bonsai.  Japan.  2005年12月撮影

A sense of beauty is every hindrance to a soldier; yet there would be no soldiers - or none such soldier had not men dead and living cherished and handed on the sacred fire.
Ivor Gurney (June 1916). (via the-library-and-step-on-it)

eros-turannos:

The poet has come back by Margaret Atwood