
picture
Day 764, waiting.
Day's pictures, Poetry
In a dark moist corner
an autumn red womb opened on time
new life unwittingly reaching out.
Day 761, tiny nature.
Day's pictures, Poetry
The unseen world we walk
a scenery seen with the squinted eye
the beauty of unobserved nature.
Day 753, tight.
Day's pictures, Poetry
The ground embraces me tight
I see where to go but can’t
the ground embraces me tight.
Day 747, The end of winter and Facebook.
SocietySpring is finally here; the temperature is a few degrees above zero during the day now and is saw the first buds waking up from their winter sleep. Living closer to nature makes me more aware of the different seasons and the winter season last a good 5 months here so its nice that the light is coming back and that it is all green again pretty soon.
I did also some spring cleaning and not only in my house. I left Facebook a couple of weeks ago after many years. I guess all the commotion surrounding Facebook the last few weeks was the final straw, I just don’t trust them anymore. I am not so afraid that they misuse my data, I mostly posted for work and almost never look at the feed let alone fill out stupid quizzes or liked stuff. The only reason why I didn’t move away from it earlier is because Facebook is like a shortcut to a lot of old friends and I had some nice group with my buddies from the Marines for instance. Those things I will miss but I don’t like it that Facebook has more or less a monopoly and therefore it can do what it wants. Read this article and you understand my doubts about this young guy in charge of a company that has the power to change people’s minds and elections.
If it was up to me than I would make Facebook into a phone book where the contacts that you already have are available for other apps to use. The big problem for a new social platform is that your friends are not on there. If all my friends were also visible on a new Opensource Facebook alternative for instance I could interact with them with the rule-set of my app and not that of Facebook.
Facebook is not invented to bring you and your friends together, Facebook is invented to make money, and you know what that does with people.
Day 744, choices.
Day's pictures, Poetry
In between the darkness grasps
go left to embrace the long swell
or right and go unknown.
Day 737, tide.
Day's pictures, Poetry
The tide is her now
low and clear the surrounding of current
the ground of things are.
Day 729, Stuck or not.
Day's pictures, Poetry
Is she the first who dares.
Or the last who jumps backwards.
To get in line or to escape.
An unclear moment caught in time.
Day 728, Stuck.
Day's pictures, Poetry
One day I got stuck here.
And now I’m hanging around.
My brothers are the same.
They are like me, sticking around.
Day 726, The shadows getting shorter.
Day's pictures, Poetry
For the time of day, the shadows are still long.
They slowly move with every passing day.
The lines play a rhythm when we move along.
I dance my way till the shadows are gone.
Day 716, separate.
Day's pictures, Poetry
You fade away, I turn away.
Who you are, I don’t know.
My time will blur, you are out.
I stay here, looking away.
Day 705, Stuck?
Day's pictures, Poetry
On the right it is me, uncombed standing crooked.
Next my wife, good-looking, all dressed up, hair in a bun.
We say goodbye to our memories you see; some parts are blocking the sun.
The sun that gives us warmth is either setting or rising, is this morning or evening?
Are we going to wait, or getting higher or are we just so rooted like the trees you see here?
Day 698, past a shattered mind.
Day's pictures, Poetry
Perspective when I twist my head, lean aside, trust my mind.
I see straight the bended line, my verdict stressed by time.
My truth swells up, my trust along and doubt withdrawals.
The world can laugh, my course is past a shattered mind.
Day 691, Between sunset and rise.
Day's pictures, Poetry
Blue looking back.
Red when you realize.
yellow walking back.
Black curling up.
Green looking at.
Day 679, The slow arrow of beauty.
Day's pictures
Friedrich Nietzsche
Human all too human
149
The slow arrow of beauty. – The noblest kind of beauty is not that which suddenly transports us, which makes a violent and intoxicating assault upon us (such beauty can easily excite disgust), but that which slowly infiltrates us, which we bear away with us almost without noticing and encounter again in dreams, but which finally, after having for long lain modestly in our heart, takes total possession of us, filling our eyes with
tears and our heart with longing. – What is it we long for at the sight of beauty? To be beautiful our self: we imagine we would be very happy if we were beautiful. – But that is an error.
