An Afternoon Affair II

Sometimes cities can get cold and impersonal. Efficiency, Efficacy and Economy. The person fades and all that remains is the functions. It’s pleasant to find humour in the nooks and crannies where you least expect. It brings back some colour to the bleakness.

Someone once defined humor as a way to keep from killing yourself.
I keep my sense of humor and I stay alive.
- Abe Burrows

PS: Yes, Burrows is American, so his humour doesn’t include ‘u’.

An Afternoon Affair I

I recently had an hour to just wander the streets and managed to get a couple of shots. It’s been awhile since I’ve really spent time shooting. I think I might be losing it. Oh well.

Wanted to try a different style of editing this round. So here we go.

Millions and millions of years would still not give me half enough time
to describe that tiny instant of all eternity
when you put your arms around me
and I put my arms around you.
- Jacques Prévert

This quote was kindly brought to you by SS.

Protected: Preview.

Passage.

Spiders. Some of you hate it so much you’ve probably closed the page by now. For those still here, I don’t really have a fondness or distaste for them – until they invade my space, then retribution is visited on their hairy heads. This one lives down the road upon a giant stair frame. Its sheer size caught my attention (it is bigger than my palm from end to end) as it flapped around using its web as a kite on one of those windy days.

I don’t know much about spiders, according to the locals this one is a Golden Orb Weaver. A friendly non-poisonous spider capable of growing to sizes that allows it to take down a small bird. Maybe that’s the reason for the flying lessons mentioned earlier.

Like a spider on the web of life, Time devours all things.
From forgotten firsts to the final light it swallows every change.
The smiles and tears and simple fears we keep locked away,
in memory, print or parchment to help survive the day,
Is gnawed and nibbled often by Time and ourselves no less,
till all is but an illusion like the lines of a tailored dress.
Alas! Each trembling thread tumbles towards its terrible embrace.
To realise when Time’s unmasked it is Death we face.

Adapted from Ovid’s “Tempus edax rerum “