Pietra

and on this rock...

I have been trying to slowly chisel away at my Aquinas book but with the hours spent in the office, it is becoming a real herculean struggle. I've really gotten myself into a mess this time. What started off as a supposed cure to jet-lag induced sleepless nights has now become an addiction. Aquinas turns out to be surprisingly 'modern' for his time and reading him has made me realised how many modern day ideas stem from his writings. At the end of his Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, Wittgenstein writes one of his most quoted quotes 'Not how the world is, is the mystical, but that it is'. For him, how the world is is a scientific matter with scientific answers even if we do not have all the answers as yet. But he also states in Tractatus 'We feel that even if all possible scientific questions be answered, the problems of life have still not been touched at all'. This is an insistence on the point that even when the scientific answers are in, we are still left with the thatness of the world, the fact that it is. To my surprise, Aquinas seems to be of a similar mind. Aquinas appears to suggest that we can explore the world and develop an account of what things in it are. But he also thinks that we are then left with a non-scientific question. How come that there is any world at all?

Sky-light

Going against the Grain

I like looking up at the sky.
When I do that, people around always stare.
I don't see it but I can feel their glare.
I like looking without knowing what I am searching for.
In a belief that life always has more.

Vecchio

"Lovestruck Romeo, sings the streets a serenade
Laying everybody low with a love song that he made
Finds a convenient streetlight, steps out of the shade
Says something like you and me babe, how about it?"
You and me, babe, how about it?

Call

Ring Ring; I believe its for you.

For some it is a badge of achievement, yet another one along an already illustrious path. For other it is a calling, to a higher purpose, to do some good. And then there are those for whom this was nothing more than an eventuality or perhaps the alternative to being a doctor.
It is whatever you choose to call it. No more.
Tomorrow, robes will be worn and names will be called. Just like dressing up and reporting for work.
For some it is just a job. Not Life.

Moon

'Caesar, beware the ides of March!'
~ Shakespeare, Julius Caesar Act 1, Scene 2

Like Pompey's for Flavian's,
Julien replaced by Gregorian.
Day and night, sun and moon,
Its all in Time; gone too soon.

Sundial

Like the hands of time

Would you believe me if I told you that this picture looks so much better in print? Maybe I do need a better scanner, one that can scan 120mm too. The Leica caught the fall and contrast of the shadows perfectly whilst the summicron's bokeh painted an impressionist backdrop through the windows. Framing the shadows.
For the longest time, mankind has used shadows to mark the passing of the day. So innate is our connection with the sun that sometimes we are still able to gauge the time of day just by looking at the fall of shadows or by the harshness of the light. But we don't do that anymore. Now we have sophisticated devices ranging from digital wristwatches to atomic clocks. All capable of marking the passing of a day without a sunrise or sunset, without knowing day or night. And with such sophistication, man has unwittingly managed to speed up time shaping, us into the Now Now Now generation. Ironically enslaved by time whilst trying to master it. But it was not so long ago that we were swaying to the long intros of Guns and Roses' November Rain, or the long guitar interlude of The Beatles' I Want You. Today's music is in your face that starts milliseconds after the first beat ending before its even begun. Today we are all impatient, restless and seeking instant gratification. I say bring back the intros and the interludes; Start a revolution from my bed and Learn to be still. Sometimes, I wonder who turned up the dial? Surely not the sun.

Immure

Shutters and Compressor

Unlike the light breezy feel of Hopper's windows, this photo is its antithesis. Hopper's fluttering curtain promising promiscuity, sensuality and sexuality is now limp and still. There is no excitement, no movement. Even the compressor blades are stationary. Everything is still and quiet; Dead quiet. Even the upright in this photo is unlike the phallic columns in Summertime. Now it is limp, snaking and not always erect. Instead, it relies on a rusting pipe for support. One immediately thinks of Dali and his 'crutch' motif but then that was to support distorted proportions, not a lack of capacity. The only resemblance of a Hopper in this photo is the darkness of the rooms beyond the windows. Perhaps darkness is the only constant. Everything is still and quiet; Dead quiet. And the stillness makes me listen to the silence of my soul.

Über allen Gipfeln
Ist Ruh,
In allen Wipfeln
Spürest du
Kaum einen Hauch;
Die Vögelein schweigen im Walde.
Warte nur, balde
Ruhest du auch.
~ Goethe