May 21, 2014
I never knew them all, just hummed
and thrummed my fingers with the radio,
driving five hundred miles to Austin.
Her arms held all the songs I needed.
Our boots kept time with fiddles
and the charming sobs of blondes,
the whine of steel guitars
sliding us down in deer-hide chairs
when jukebox music was over.
Sad music’s on my mind tonight
in a jet high over Dallas, earphones
on channel five. A lonely singer,
dead, comes back to beg me,
swearing in my ears she’s mine,
rhymes set to music that make
her lies seem true. She’s gone
and others like her, leaving their songs
to haunt us. Letting down through clouds
I know who I’ll find waiting at the gate,
the same woman faithful to my arms
as she was those nights in Austin
when the world seemed like a jukebox,
our boots able to dance forever,
our pockets full of coins.
By Walt McDonald, 1934
May 18, 2014
My featherbed is deep and soft, and there I’ll lay you down,
I’ll dress you all in yellow silk, and on your head a crown.
For you shall be my lady love, and I shall be your lord.
I’ll always keep you warm and safe, and guard you with my sword.
And how she smiled and how she laughed, the maiden of the tree.
She spun away and said to him, no featherbed for me.
I’ll wear a gown of golden leaves, and bind my hair with grass,
But you can be my forest love, and me your forest lass.
taken from Arya's chapter on A Storm of Swords
Despite the fate of a lot of our most beloved characters, I'm still hopeful for this two to meet again in the future. Plus it will make true the statement above by King Robert that once was referring to Sansa and Joffrey.
May 14, 2014
Art thou pale for weariness
Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,
Among the stars that have a different birth,
And ever changing, like a Joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?
By Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822)
May 13, 2014
May 11, 2014
In Kelly Hofer's about page in his website, he introduces himself as a media producer who used to be a member of a Hutterite colony in Manitoba. Although his culture is not supportive of photography, he clearly has the passion and the talent to be the artist he is now.
His shots featuring the people inside the Hutterite community are absolutely stunning. I especially love the faces of carefree children and young adults who seem to just enjoy the surroundings and each other's company.
Hopefully Mr. Hofer will be able to continue doing what he loves to do and achieves all the success that he deserves.
sources: kellyhofer, dailymail
May 8, 2014
Like a gentle rain, there is something soothing about a violent storm complete with a rumble of thunder and a crack of lightning. It is always a temptation to go out and be in the midst of it all, and just be in awe of the magnificence of nature unleashing its primal fury.
Under the wide and starry sky,
Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.
This be the verse you grave for me:
Here he lies where he longed to be;
Home is the sailor, home from sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.
~ Robert Louis Stevenson ~