tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33845029563334819932024-03-13T13:41:27.533-07:00Newbeams
notes from beyondgoatmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02317617928368945316noreply@blogger.comBlogger7125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3384502956333481993.post-83962588673244235342014-08-10T15:22:00.000-07:002014-08-12T11:17:26.114-07:00Can You Hear Me Now?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtOZ00A-hYEyFwVd9FpmxCMPbNhAgzx-bboyR5uqUKy2VWQT-laelHppNd7tJKynar8-ffTBX7MUHZNABCkceCnDV66CuenyD_rxHT2YQpfKKuRpkYzJfXJoAk7HrZ9HMpM5TSD28a-2E/s1600/danh+vowethepeople.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></div>
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I thought this to be indicative of many current-family separations -- each to his own world unconnected to the other . . . Sad<br />
The background "art" is artist Danh Vo's parts of the Statue of Liberty apparently spread all over New York City, some in exhibits thereabouts.<br />
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<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2014/08/08/arts/design/danh-vos-we-the-people-divided.html?_r=0">story of the statue parts</a><br />
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goatmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02317617928368945316noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3384502956333481993.post-37922772749303585642013-10-17T14:25:00.000-07:002013-10-25T09:52:42.959-07:00Beyond<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3,"tn":"K"}"><span class="userContent">“I
was set free! I dissolved in the sea, became white sails and flying
spray, became beauty and rhythm, became moonlight </span></span></h5>
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3,"tn":"K"}"><span class="userContent">and the ship and the
high dim-starred sky! I belonged, without past or future, within peace
and unity and a wild joy, within </span></span></h5>
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3,"tn":"K"}"><span class="userContent">something greater than my own life, or
the life of Man, to Life itself!.. I have had the same experience,
became the sun, </span></span></h5>
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3,"tn":"K"}"><span class="userContent">the hot sand, green seaweed anchored to a rock, swaying
in the tide. Like a saint's vision of beatitude. Like the veil of </span></span></h5>
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3,"tn":"K"}"><span class="userContent">things
as they seem drawn back by an unseen hand. For a second you see, and
seeing the secret, you are the secret. </span></span></h5>
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3,"tn":"K"}"><span class="userContent">For a second there is meaning!” </span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_0LF4ftRnsyDxqVrEtl_JoPUPRY4xjxmgyUWxYOMmQ2dsCmN2BpikjPTbUKsmSRhO5WhezNjZH0JcYI0PcIKkm-wp1s4kkwhdIZANCVf2NJEft1faJFldzNYvtnWg7ZmJF7Ikz4mRn58/s1600/04_window_in_the_skies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_0LF4ftRnsyDxqVrEtl_JoPUPRY4xjxmgyUWxYOMmQ2dsCmN2BpikjPTbUKsmSRhO5WhezNjZH0JcYI0PcIKkm-wp1s4kkwhdIZANCVf2NJEft1faJFldzNYvtnWg7ZmJF7Ikz4mRn58/s400/04_window_in_the_skies.jpg" width="400" /></a></h5>
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3,"tn":"K"}"><span class="userContent"> ___ Eugene O'Neill, Long Day's Journey Into Night</span></span></h5>
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3,"tn":"K"}"><span class="userContent"> </span></span></h5>
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<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3,"tn":"K"}"><span class="userContent">Never having read or seen this play, I was not aware of the terse, compact language of Mr. O'Neil. The play covers one day in the life of a disfunctional family and is probably not appropriate for a High School presentation -- maybe stick to "Music Man" , or some happy pap, there. </span></span></h5>
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3,"tn":"K"}"><span class="userContent">Many can separate themselves from life for a few seconds but few can describe it . . . </span></span></h5>
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3,"tn":"K"}"><span class="userContent">Just got a copy of this play in the mail for a cent. I would like to find out the context of this quote.</span></span></h5>
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3,"tn":"K"}"><span class="userContent"><br /></span></span></h5>
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3,"tn":"K"}"><span class="userContent"> </span></span></h5>
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3,"tn":"K"}"><span class="userContent"><br /></span></span></h5>
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3,"tn":"K"}"><span class="userContent"><br /></span></span></h5>
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goatmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02317617928368945316noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3384502956333481993.post-75855349025529102602013-08-28T09:23:00.000-07:002013-09-07T09:17:44.928-07:00Smaller is Larger<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijVuFOQyxKkDnBOaEkiNiSVswdf2lLzqBeGFxEbea9sVxPD_jPT3uybav9E78ken9J1UTavwJTYmh4tZbGbHyIcpcBte9BXNZbxQcz0lusjUbQ2voSUYpHWgapeQgxm7AHbA0KXzcKqVI/s1600/addnewnotefractal.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijVuFOQyxKkDnBOaEkiNiSVswdf2lLzqBeGFxEbea9sVxPD_jPT3uybav9E78ken9J1UTavwJTYmh4tZbGbHyIcpcBte9BXNZbxQcz0lusjUbQ2voSUYpHWgapeQgxm7AHbA0KXzcKqVI/s640/addnewnotefractal.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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With a background in structure, I am drawn occasionally again to fractal designs -- especially when color is involved. Our first created ones were yellow dots on black background which took overnight to run (gone are the days of slow computers and Dos commands). Mathematical-digital drawing has been carried to such an extreme now that it is hard to see the natural self-similarity of the designs and I am not convinced that many are true fractals; but I donot pretend to grasp all of the edges of this stuff.<br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s65DSz78jW4">This presentation is a nice history with current developments</a><br />
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It is thought that organic development of natural live structures: trees, branches, leaves and roots ; and the geologic structures: craggy mountains, seashore outlines from above, and lakeshores moved by wave action, <br />
may be influenced by the fractal development, which is the larger is just a reproduction of the smaller, grown.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAKpCiNbdx8Q0EpJbxOMzntZEvBB433m1czvj_dLQGZlDPIItYA1rqqZUbXTXMoFsS79R7ZQeEp8sYOJ9qJaBkDSQMzcLfiXVSzo_cvwd-HHmqNAxysPBJhQDpEzIBxjEyPVtuEcztpRU/s1600/fractal_mold_colony.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAKpCiNbdx8Q0EpJbxOMzntZEvBB433m1czvj_dLQGZlDPIItYA1rqqZUbXTXMoFsS79R7ZQeEp8sYOJ9qJaBkDSQMzcLfiXVSzo_cvwd-HHmqNAxysPBJhQDpEzIBxjEyPVtuEcztpRU/s400/fractal_mold_colony.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Here is a better example. This is s a closeup of some kind of mold development. Ugh, probably looks better smaller.!<br />
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Another rendering: <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyal1jBVHMMp1OeK8XmUdkTRwDEhfyxEv5ybb8yFbuZTLXw72OFFWozvQqs6BeorUr08X7uEhs3chONXwYgfM3CeGldz_IgA96INk8mc7ZkY7sMYv6pbeneORQEDLD5TL41Tf3Eb-5dlU/s1600/marie_antoinette_wearing_the_neutrino_tiara_by_mandelwerk-d601yyt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyal1jBVHMMp1OeK8XmUdkTRwDEhfyxEv5ybb8yFbuZTLXw72OFFWozvQqs6BeorUr08X7uEhs3chONXwYgfM3CeGldz_IgA96INk8mc7ZkY7sMYv6pbeneORQEDLD5TL41Tf3Eb-5dlU/s640/marie_antoinette_wearing_the_neutrino_tiara_by_mandelwerk-d601yyt.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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goatmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02317617928368945316noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3384502956333481993.post-52793200252042259812013-07-20T09:56:00.001-07:002013-08-12T07:35:11.344-07:00Oasis<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7RGNW-73mC3_e77rWTkimjFsaM5Oy3s-C7WiG4i1jaISDlgv3EYNfxpshbAVXCqopLmj7hCyjF5KLneEyNPwvNZQPlaGJcs14jOcSHVHTOidImQV9QCeV9Thc7k2SpOMANM0zXFbeMIY/s1600/stoneyields.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7RGNW-73mC3_e77rWTkimjFsaM5Oy3s-C7WiG4i1jaISDlgv3EYNfxpshbAVXCqopLmj7hCyjF5KLneEyNPwvNZQPlaGJcs14jOcSHVHTOidImQV9QCeV9Thc7k2SpOMANM0zXFbeMIY/s640/stoneyields.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Herein lived the past , and now the future<br />
Over the years people showed up, left things:<br />
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a comment - observations that stayed,<br />
paintings, photographs, poems, snapshots of life somewhere somewhen<br />
a card game, a tune or two, or a thought (mostly thoughts), flowers, dusty books,<br />
and apparently seeds to future life<br />
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Some lives ended too soon, life too much a burden --- maybe next time.<br />
and there were secrets . . . . there are always secrets <br />
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pretty soon people stopped coming<br />
they were already there in spirit and memory<br />
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shifting time ~~~ <br />
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the place became silent as a spring and life passed on to another form --<br />
maybe where the past is kept somehow preserved (how revealed I don't know)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAUAU6Ajk1D6BH81TttIbwBQNGG1laCjzh__vbnD0a16hAXO-sZAEtZmXGVouUmOY6F9P7JC_XeOfxz-wgoK3B7UqyTifZ7P57Jt4G8KqzHGO42CDEJiyJp17GnS4CuNcx517aSdwMkXw/s1600/gregorysmall.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAUAU6Ajk1D6BH81TttIbwBQNGG1laCjzh__vbnD0a16hAXO-sZAEtZmXGVouUmOY6F9P7JC_XeOfxz-wgoK3B7UqyTifZ7P57Jt4G8KqzHGO42CDEJiyJp17GnS4CuNcx517aSdwMkXw/s640/gregorysmall.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Sarah rests in trees 1864<br />
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goatmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02317617928368945316noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3384502956333481993.post-69538946361800002032013-06-08T10:35:00.001-07:002013-06-08T10:36:41.064-07:00Onward and Upward<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWXoSn9bS7ybfamtQBev_y16HKY3bZQ2lVzJNAbQV2FUguisOTqdu3qq5H6k7jNtRjpJN90IJyDkXdrIwBL4Yy0DMh-I_tM3E-GuXjOeRBv3yQb-RrcFdVIDvWb631m6ZtkfXWZ8H8VuY/s1600/Leonoracarrington-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWXoSn9bS7ybfamtQBev_y16HKY3bZQ2lVzJNAbQV2FUguisOTqdu3qq5H6k7jNtRjpJN90IJyDkXdrIwBL4Yy0DMh-I_tM3E-GuXjOeRBv3yQb-RrcFdVIDvWb631m6ZtkfXWZ8H8VuY/s640/Leonoracarrington-4.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Painting by Lenora Carrington a British/Mexican surrealist artist and author. <br />
http://www.carringtonleo.5u.com/<br />
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I suppose this is a dreamscape; I would hate to view these images while driving or ordering lunch.<br />
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On the other hand, one could go with the flow and "meet and greet" ?<br />
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goatmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02317617928368945316noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3384502956333481993.post-52295152104681870692013-04-27T11:01:00.001-07:002013-04-27T16:04:30.439-07:00Freedom<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0jmoAsiRDeDsb2SJ2jmMmE8LqByx_xq7bBwo4Eb88IhzuEvpHPVHGtxGAZMqlxDRG8zLNhWSFLu4j1evuHUk9jzA6uM_7YHj1ysN5-y-eqAfO-UgEiv-eoFrdqCES1ATOND9OCII-7PY/s1600/silvermoonlight1880.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0jmoAsiRDeDsb2SJ2jmMmE8LqByx_xq7bBwo4Eb88IhzuEvpHPVHGtxGAZMqlxDRG8zLNhWSFLu4j1evuHUk9jzA6uM_7YHj1ysN5-y-eqAfO-UgEiv-eoFrdqCES1ATOND9OCII-7PY/s400/silvermoonlight1880.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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"..I arrive from beneath roots of carnivorous trees,
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And my mind is still filled -with the fearful cries of dried butterflies-
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under weighty volumes of pale, aged books.
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When my trust was hung-
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from the frail justice line of this town,
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And in the streets, they were cutting off the head of my torch,
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When they blind-folded the innocent eyes of my love,
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When fresh blood erupted from all veins of my shaking dreams,
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And when my life was nothing-
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but the regular chant of a Grandfather clock,
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I realized that I had to love,
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I had to love madly.
... "<br />
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Excerpted from "Windows" by Iranian poet Forough Farrokhzad<br />
(1935-1967)<br />
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There are various translations of this poem from the original Persian writings and various interpretations of the words and intents. Translations are tricky, as anyone trying to interpret Aramaic into English (for the Bible) would probably attest.<br />
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My contribution to poetry month, this April.<br />
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http://www.forughfarrokhzad.org/collectedworks/collectedworks4.htm</div>
goatmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02317617928368945316noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3384502956333481993.post-91437472435704887922013-04-23T14:45:00.000-07:002013-04-24T11:35:59.275-07:00Interfaces<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip9F_Cmv7BDyK41eK7Fco3d2Jcf2QRVET3YF4YCW0x9_xvUxDOCSOVn_MnMiapQ6EqvOSYsA7ImOLqJ06WCrLRdbulljMv5zf_IO8iXsK8_ABROn49Lcj7bqdqjnlY4IPXd4p7RHw17G4/s1600/ornamentlady.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip9F_Cmv7BDyK41eK7Fco3d2Jcf2QRVET3YF4YCW0x9_xvUxDOCSOVn_MnMiapQ6EqvOSYsA7ImOLqJ06WCrLRdbulljMv5zf_IO8iXsK8_ABROn49Lcj7bqdqjnlY4IPXd4p7RHw17G4/s400/ornamentlady.jpg" width="310" /></a></div>
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I am not sure what it is about images showing activity to no obvious intent or result, needing some sort of explaination. Posing for imaginary purpose known only to they who put it together. Open to interpretation, or needing no interpretation at all ,maybe.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh8ZQeuvto-68nne5OJD-QNwVEuZuA6b30tpmqEKfdnwr-GErVUjqV5ewhcOfFCHg5wUcD8tMmJuD73qn9X0yGM_tHBka1Iuhh_UnEEnGdEfyVVnUFxPggvvMZZmKizX5ab2wjmRQgkGo/s1600/violinlight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh8ZQeuvto-68nne5OJD-QNwVEuZuA6b30tpmqEKfdnwr-GErVUjqV5ewhcOfFCHg5wUcD8tMmJuD73qn9X0yGM_tHBka1Iuhh_UnEEnGdEfyVVnUFxPggvvMZZmKizX5ab2wjmRQgkGo/s400/violinlight.jpg" width="267" /></a></div>
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Playing violin on the light? No need for metaphor, just a happening; you would do the same were you her, and could play violin.<br />
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Solar Music by Remidios Varo Spanish surrealist.<br />
1908-1963<br />
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goatmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02317617928368945316noreply@blogger.com2