Where the Sidewalk Ends

August 27, 2009

by Shel Silverstein

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,

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 And there the grass grows soft and white, 

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And there the sun burns crimson bright,

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And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

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Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.

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Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,

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And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

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Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know

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The place where the sidewalk ends.

Pictures by marija strajnic

Sans Soleil (1983)

August 18, 2009

I will have spent my life trying to understand the function of remembering,

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 which is not the opposite of forgetting,

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 but rather its lining.

We do not remember.

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We rewrite memory much as history is rewritten.

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How can one remember thirst?

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 Photos by Anders Linden

Words from Sans Soleil

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“Early unsuccesses shouldn’t bother anybody because it happens to absolutely everybody” – Philip Johnson

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Poe X Gorey

July 10, 2009

Song

by Edgar Allen Poe and Illustrations by Edward Gorey

I SAW thee on thy bridal day –
When a burning blush came o’er thee,
Though happiness around thee lay,
The world all love before thee:

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5 Things for Summer

July 1, 2009

1. A quote:   “A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, the birds are singing, and the lawnmower is broken”- James Dent

2. A Photo

3. A Hockney

 

 

4. A Fact:  Cacti are real water reservoirs; their inner liquid is not pure, clear water but a thick viscous stuff, but perfectly drinkable, that saved many lives in the desert. It can be obtained easily by scratching an Opuntia or by making a hole into columnar cacti

5. A Treat:

 

Walden

May 29, 2009

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 The sea-shore is a sort of neutral ground, a most advantageous point from which to contemplate this world.

It is even a trivial place.

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The waves forever rolling to the land are too far-travelled and untamable to be familiar.

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Creeping along the endless beach amid the sun-squall and the foam, it occurs to us that we, too, are the product of sea-slime.

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http://www.rjshaughnessy.com/

* these photos are from R.J. Shaughnessy. I really would like to talk to him about his work.