Mittwoch, 9. Oktober 2019

Fenster #289

Fenster #288

»… the wrong shape …«

»It’s very beautiful,« said the priest in a low, dreaming voice; »the colours are very beautiful. But it’s the wrong shape.«
»What for?« asked Flambeau, staring.
»For anything. It’s the wrong shape in the abstract […] The colours are intoxicatingly lovely; but the shapes are mean and bad—deliberately mean and bad.«

(G. K. Chesterton, The Wrong Shape; in: The Complete »Father Brown«, Vol. 1: The Innocence of Father Brown, London 1911).

Fenster #287

Fenster #286

»Enthält bei phantasievoller Ausdeutung sämtliche Buchstaben des Alphabets.«


Dienstag, 8. Oktober 2019

Montag, 7. Oktober 2019

Freitag, 4. Oktober 2019

Die Zeit …

Vorgestern, am Mittwoch, dem 2. Oktober 2019, habe ich doch glatt, zernichtet von profanen Dingen wie ich war, vergessen, an den Mittwoch, den 2. Oktober 2013, zu erinnern …

Donnerstag, 3. Oktober 2019

Ein vertrauter und liebgewonnener Effekt

Just beyond the pi-pi, and disposed in a triangle before the entrance of the house, were three magnificent bread-fruit trees. At this moment I can recap to my mind their slender shafts, and the graceful inequalities of their bark, on which my eye was accustomed to dwell day after day in the midst of my solitary musings. It is strange how inanimate objects will twine themselves into our affections, especially in the hour of affliction. Even now, amidst all the bustle and stir of the proud and busy city in which I am dwelling, the image of those three trees seems to come as vividly before my eyes as if they were actually present, and I still feel the soothing quiet pleasure which I then had in watching hour after hour their topmost boughs waving gracefully in the breeze.

(Herman Melville, Typee: A Peep at Polynesian Life, London 1846).