U.S. President-elect Donald Trump (C) stands surrounded by his son
Eric Trump (L) daughter Ivanka and son Donald Trump Jr. (R) ahead of a
press conference in Trump Tower, Manhattan, New York, U.S., January 11,
2017: photo by Shannon Stapleton/Reuters, 11 January 2017
U.S. President-elect Donald Trump (C) stands surrounded by his son Eric Trump (L) daughter Ivanka and son Donald Trump Jr. (R) ahead of a press conference in Trump Tower, Manhattan, New York, U.S., January 11, 2017: photo by Shannon Stapleton/Reuters, 11 January 2017
Pic leading NYT #TrumpPressConference story all you need to know re separation from #Trump Inc. and conflict-of-interest plans Photo @samuelhodgson: image via Reading The Pictures @ReadingThePix, 11 January 2017
U.S. President-elect Donald Trump speaks during a news conference in the lobby of Trump Tower in Manhattan, New York City today: photo by Lucas Jackson/Reuters, 11 January 2017
U.S. President-elect Donald Trump speaks during a news conference in the lobby of Trump Tower in Manhattan, New York City today: photo by Lucas Jackson/Reuters, 11 January 2017
Interesting display when you don't use PCs or email and threat to US is computer hacking Photo @Lucas_Jackson @Reuters: image via Reading The Pictures @ReadingThePix, 11 January 2017
topical outline #goldenshowers: image via cendrilllonpourses20a @cendrillonpour, 11 January 2017
US - Obama tears up during tribute to Michelle, daughters Photo @joshua_lott #AFP: image via Frédérique Geffard @fgeffardAFP, 11 January 2017
U.S. President Barack Obama wipes away tears as he delivers his farewell address in Chicago, Illinois, U.S.: photo by Jonathan Ernst/Reuters, 11 January 2017
SERBIA - A migrant stands in line for food distributed by volunteers, outside of derelict warehouses used as a shelter in Belgrade. By @iandrej #AFP: image via Frédérique Geffard @fgeffardAFP, 11 January 2017
SERBIA - A migrants eats a hot meal received from volunteers, outside of derelict warehouses used as a shelter in Belgrade. By @iandrej #AFP: image via Frédérique Geffard @fgeffardAFP, 11 January 2017
SERBIA - A migrant walks out of a shelter at an abandoned warehouse in Belgrade as temperatures dropped to -15C° overnight. By @iandrej #AFP: image via Frédérique Geffard @fgeffardAFP, 11 January 2017
SERBIA - A migrant receives a hot meal from volunteers, outside of derelict warehouses which they use as a shelter in Belgrade. By @iandrej #AFP: image via Frédérique Geffard @fgeffardAFP, 11 January 2017
SERBIA - A migrant rests in a makeshift shelter at an abandoned warehouse in Belgrade. By @iandrej #AFP: image via Frédérique Geffard @fgeffardAFP, 11 January 2017
GREECE - A boy stands by his shelter set up in the hockey arena at the
Hellinikon Olympic Complex, in a southern Athens suburb. By @lgouliam: image via Frédérique Geffard @fgeffardAFP, 11 January 2017
IRAQ - An Iraqi man rides in the trunk of a taxi in eastern Mosul during an ongoing military operation against the IS. By @dilkoff #AFP: image via Frédérique Geffard @fgeffardAFP, 11 January 2017
IRAQ - A youth rides a bicycle between ruined buildings in Mosul's Qadisiyah neighbourhood during military operation against IS. By @dilkoff #AFP: image via Frédérique Geffard @fgeffardAFP, 11 January 2017
IRAQ - A youth rides a bicycle between ruined buildings in Mosul's Qadisiyah neighbourhood during military operation against IS. By @dilkoff #AFP: image via Frédérique Geffard @fgeffardAFP, 11 January 2017
IRAQ - A man pushes cart with cans of water between ruined buildings in Mosul's Qadisiyah neighbourhood. By @dilkoff #AFP: image via Frédérique Geffard @fgeffardAFP, 11 January 2017
IRAQ - An Iraqi man walks his child between ruined buildings in Mosul's Qadisiyah neighbourhood. By @dilkoff #AFP: image via Frédérique Geffard @fgeffardAFP, 11 January 2017
#Syria Children collect wood for heating and cooking in the rubble of the rebel suburb of Zamalka, #Damascus. By @amer_almohibany @AFP: image via Photojournalism @photojournalink, 11 January 2017
RUSSIA - A woman rides an escalator at a metro station in Moscow. By Yuri Kadobnov: image via Frédérique Geffard @fgeffardAFP, 11 January 2017
GERMANY - Cars drive over Berlin's Unter den Linden boulevard as snow falls on Berlin. By @odd_andersen #AFP: image via Frédérique Geffard @fgeffardAFP, 11 January 2017
ROMANIA - People ride a frozen tram in Bucharest during the cold spell in Europe. By @bubulator2 #AFP: image via Frédérique Geffard @fgeffardAFP, 11 January 2017
CZECH REPUBLIC - Smoke rises over the rooftops of central Prague as sun rises. By @MichalCizek #AFP: image via Frédérique Geffard @fgeffardAFP, 11 January 2017
GREECE - View of a snow-covered Corinth Canal, near the city of Corinth. By Valerie Gache #AFP: image via Frédérique Geffard @fgeffardAFP, 11 January 2017
AFGHANISTAN - Afghan mourners and relatives of a victim of twin Taliban blasts, cover the grave with soil in Kabul. By @shahmarai: image via Frédérique Geffard @fgeffardAFP, 11 January 2017
GAZA CITY - Palestinians make jumps on the beach during the sunset. By @MahmudHams #AFP: image via Frédérique Geffard @fgeffardAFP, 11 January 2017
U.S. Honda biker Ricky Brabec races during stage 8 of the Dakar Rally between Uyuni, Bolivia and Salta, Argentina: photo by Franck Fife/Pool via AP, 11 January 2017
Jorge Luis Borges: El testigo
En un establo
que está casi a la sombra de la nueva iglesia de piedra, un hombre de
ojos grises y barba gris, tendido entre el olor de los animales,
humildemente busca la muerte como quien busca el sueño. El día, fiel a
vastas leyes secretas, va desplazando y confundiendo las sombras en el
pobre recinto; afuera están las tierras aradas y un zanjón cegado por
hojas muertas y algún rastro de lobo en el barro negro donde empiezan
los bosques. El hombre duerme y sueña, olvidado. El toque de oración lo
despierta. En los reinos de Inglaterra el son de campanas ya es uno de
los hábitos de la tarde, pero el hombre, de niño, ha visto la cara de
Woden, el horror divino y la exultación, el torpe ídolo de madera
recargado de monedas romanas y de vestiduras pesadas, el sacrificio de
caballos, perros y prisioneros. Antes del alba morirá y con él morirán, y
no volverán, las últimas imágenes inmediatas de los ritos paganos; el
mundo será un poco más pobre cuando este sajón haya muerto.
Hechos que pueblan el espacio y que
tocan a su fin cuando alguien se muere pueden maravillarnos, pero una
cosa, o un número infinito de cosas, muere en cada agonía, salvo que
exista una memoria del universo, como han conjeturado los teósofos. En
el tiempo hubo un día que apagó los últimos ojos que vieron a Cristo; la
batalla de Junín y el amor de Helena murieron con la muerte de un
hombre. ¿Qué morirá conmigo cuando yo muera, qué forma patética o
deleznable perderá el mundo? ¿La voz de Macedonio Fernández, la imagen
de un caballo colorado en el baldío de Serrano y de Charcas, una barra
de azufre en el cajón de un escritorio de caoba?
The Witness
In a stable nearly in the shadow of the new stone church, a grey-eyed, grey-bearded cowherd lies amid the stench of cattle and quietly seeks death the way a man seeks sleep. Obedient to vast secret laws, the day's shifting light and gloom play on the rough walls of the hovel. Close by are tilled fields and a dry ditch clogged with dead leaves, and in the black soil at the edge of the forest the tracks of a wolf. The man sleeps and dreams, forgotten. The bells for evening prayer awaken him. By now the sound of bells is one of evening's customs in the kingdoms of England, but as a child the man had known the face of Woden, the holy awe and loud exultation of his worship, the clumsy wooden idol laden with Roman coins and coarse vestments, and the sacrifice of horses, dogs, and prisoners. Before daybreak he will die, and with him will die -- never to come back again -- the final first-hand images of heathen rites. When this Saxon is gone, the world will be a little poorer.
In a stable nearly in the shadow of the new stone church, a grey-eyed, grey-bearded cowherd lies amid the stench of cattle and quietly seeks death the way a man seeks sleep. Obedient to vast secret laws, the day's shifting light and gloom play on the rough walls of the hovel. Close by are tilled fields and a dry ditch clogged with dead leaves, and in the black soil at the edge of the forest the tracks of a wolf. The man sleeps and dreams, forgotten. The bells for evening prayer awaken him. By now the sound of bells is one of evening's customs in the kingdoms of England, but as a child the man had known the face of Woden, the holy awe and loud exultation of his worship, the clumsy wooden idol laden with Roman coins and coarse vestments, and the sacrifice of horses, dogs, and prisoners. Before daybreak he will die, and with him will die -- never to come back again -- the final first-hand images of heathen rites. When this Saxon is gone, the world will be a little poorer.
Events
that fill up space and reach their end when someone dies may cause us
wonder, but some thing - or an endless number of things - dies with each
man's last breath, unless, as theosophy conjectures, the world has a
memory. In the past, there was a day when the last eyes to have seen
Christ were closed; the battle of Junín and Helen's face each died with
the death of some one man. What will die with me when I die, what
poignant or worthless memory will be lost to the world? The voice of
Macedonio Fernández, the image of a brown horse grazing in an empty lot
at the corner of Serrano and Charcas, a sulphur candle in the drawer of a
mahogany desk?
Jorge Luis Borges (1899-1986): El testigo / The Witness, 1957, from El Hacedor / The Maker, 1960, English version by Norman Thomas de Giovanni
The Witness
In a stable that stands almost within the shadow of the new stone church a gray-eyed, gray-bearded man, stretched out amid the odors of the animals, humbly seeks death as one seeks for sleep. The day, faithful to vast secret laws, little by little shifts and mingles the shadows in the humble nook. Outside are the plowed fields and a deep ditch clogged with dead leaves and an occasional wolf track in the black earth at the edge of the forest. The man sleeps and dreams, forgotten. The angelus awakens him. By now the sound of the bells is one of the habits of evening in the kingdoms of England. But this man, as a child, saw the face of Woden, the holy dread and exultation, the rude wooden idol weighed down with Roman coins and heavy vestments, the sacrifice of horses, dogs, and prisoners. Before dawn he will die, and in him will die, never to return, the last eye-witness of those pagan rites; the world will be a little poorer when this Saxon dies.
Events far-reaching enough to people all space, whose end is nonetheless tolled when one man dies, may cause us wonder. But something, or an infinite number of things, dies in every death, unless the universe is possessed of a memory, as the theosophists have supposed.
In the course of time there was a day that closed the last eyes to see Christ. The battle of Junin and the love of Helen each died with the death of some one man. What will die with me when I die, what pitiful or perishable form will the world lose? The voice of Macedonio Fernandez? The image of a roan horse on the vacant lot at Serrano and Charcas? A bar of sulpher in the drawer of a mahogany desk?
Jorge Luis Borges (1899-1986): El testigo / The Witness, 1957. from El Hacedor / The Maker, 1960, English version by Mildred Boyer
Palouse River Canyon, Washington: photo by Austin Granger, 9 January 2017
Palouse River Canyon, Washington: photo by Austin Granger, 9 January 2017
Palouse River Canyon, Washington: photo by Austin Granger, 9 January 2017
Grain Elevator, Washington: photo by Austin Granger, 9 January 2017
Lone Tree, Washington: photo by Austin Granger, 11 January 2017
Lone Tree, Washington: photo by Austin Granger, 11 January 2017
Lone Tree, Washington: photo by Austin Granger, 11 January 2017
Rainy Wednesday [San Francisco]: photo by Catherine Sparacino, 30 November 2016
Oranges. Winter in Northern California.[San Francisco]: photo by Catherine Sparacino, 13 December 2016
Oranges. Winter in Northern California. [San Francisco]: photo by Catherine Sparacino, 13 December 2016
Oranges. Winter in Northern California. [San Francisco]: photo by Catherine Sparacino, 13 December 2016
[Untitled, Utah]: photo by Glenn Nielson, 1 December 2016
[Untitled, Utah]: photo by Glenn Nielson, 31 December 2016
[Untitled, Utah]: photo by Glenn Nielson, 31 December 2016
[Untitled, Utah]: photo by Glenn Nielson, 1 December 2016
[Untitled, Utah]: photo by Glenn Nielson, 1 December 2016
[Untitled, Utah]: photo by Glenn Nielson, 1 December 2016
[Untitled, Spirit Lake]: photo by Glenn Nielson, 30 December 2016
4 comments:
Makes me want to go through Utah again. Slower this time, not working. Just an inked snail climbing the trunk of a sapling slanted toward the sun.
and away from il duce.
Scanning top to bottom I want to seat daughter/son-in-law in the Spirit Lake booth where they will eat from the infinite menu forever.
There is nowhere il duce is not, including in the men's room at the bowling alley.
I'm seriously spooked out by the mounted head of the prey, staring at me, like -- definitely guilt tripping me.
A strong Twin Peaksy vibe, there, and it hits me me too that the inside of the Towers (while we're thinking about il duce, and when are we not) has the oddest Lynch throwback feel, especially when the faux mondo celebs waddle in and out, trying to get glimpses of themselves in the reflecting surfaces.
Nigel Farage beaming in the elevator was almost worth the price of admission to this last and worst "chapter" in "our" history.
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