, genre: abstract, style: Neo-Expressionism, completition: 1972.
https://uploads1.wikiart.org/images/pierre-alechinsky/plate-i-from-the-portfolio-ceremonial-labyrinths-labyrinthes-d-apparat-1972.jpg
The last note still ringing in his ears, the night’s events still swirling around in his head, he walks out of the door into the warm evening air. The entire atmosphere is one of joyous sadness. Emotions course through the air, giving it some sort of charge. The next morning shall be the last exchange of the drink of the fruit of passion, and yet the solemn first for him. Later tomorrow he knows, they all know, that they must part ways. They must all leave their oasis of comfort and security to dive again into the vast sea of reality, of conformity. Yet still they cherish it, hold on to it. Even in the last moments of such a magical night, they open their minds, their hearts, open their souls to each other and learn to love that which is there in what others have exposed. The chants of “…MORE, MORE, MORE, MORE” truly resound in not only everyone’s thoughts but in their utmost desires.
Late that night, lying in that same old bed for the last time, gazing up at the concrete ceiling. Finally, his thoughts allowed to sit and slowly filter out. Shock, insubordinate yet knowingly unjust anger. A few muttered words from the other side of the room, a brief agreement of opinions. Then silence. The hazy recollection of events over the past three weeks, the bittersweet insanity which so marked each and every day. The mistakes made, the friendships formed, the battles lost and won. And as all of this starts to settle down into a gentle murmur, he drifts off into sleep.
The next morning, torn from the warm embrace of his frail sheets, down to the circle, sips from the glass, toasts to a fallen comrade. Soon enough the group all progressed to go through their daily routines one final time. They returned to what they knew was the inevitable.
They were there, it was time to be rounded up and brought back to their respective lives. Tears were shed, last goodbyes, every single one of them joined as one united being, as one entity separate from their single selves. Each and every one of them will never leave the spot they were when they knew it was time they had to leave. Those who knew they could never return let fall the rains of their misery. Their true love for something so intangible yet so true and so real ripped apart their true selves and lovingly joined their true selves back together in an instant.
But, as inevitabilities go, by midday it was empty and silent. Once could almost feel on the air all that had occurred there so few hours ago. That evening, He finally lay in bed before sleep. All were dispersed from that place they cherished so dear, back in the true world but thinking of naught but what they had left behind.
And all at once, without warning, from places near and far came the sound of 300 voices: “This will be the day that I die…”
2 men playing soccer on field during night time
https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1613330652294-1d4dae5affe7?fm=jpg&fit=crop&w=600&q=80&fit=max
During Diwali a lot of firecrackers is being used to pollute ambience, is not it a gimmick?
Of course it is,But creating memories is valuable with the special person of your life, Some make it with money , Some with creativity and a little amount of money, it's up to individual choices,
What your partner likes an expensive gift, date or a bucket list ,trips,night dives.
One of the biggest things holding back anyone to share their work in public is the insecurity of being less genius than fellow people.
But what if we try to stop worrying about how genius or intelligent we are and how our work will impact our figure in society,rather find a scenius(intelligence or intellectual power of group of individuals) and thinking to contribute our part of the work and ideation to it.
There are numerous ways of finding a scenius,be it a club or a Twitter list or a social grp .
Observe the scenius ,what they have shared,what they haven't.
Be an amateur,do it for love.
It was the ride of a lifetime
That turned around so much
Here off to leave the place we slept
To fight the world and such
We left everything but the sky
In our hearts it stayed tight
By love it stood alone that time
To us it only felt right
The tire blew up before some time
The distance fell short that day
Under the stars’ night we thought that
We had not picked a way
Together we ran forever to stay
And to be with each other
Every city had a small town
All towns looked like another
The road kept us bumping around
Holding on for our love
The way got rough and hard and tough
Hardly with heads above
The road came to a stopping point
Waiting for life to live
Our place is here the time is now
To stop running from time
Dying on the toilet isn’t the most dignified way to go, and though Elizabethan poet and dramatist Sir Fulke Greville managed to avoid that fate, the toilet certainly played a part in his death. Greville’s disgruntled servant, Ralph Hayward, stabbed his master in the stomach while helping him fasten his trousers after using the toilet. Physicians filled his wounds with animal fat—but instead of healing the injury, the fat rotted over the next few weeks, and Greville died of gangrene on September 30, 1628. Maybe being quickly killed on the toilet would have been better.
Hey diddle diddle,
the Cats on the fiddle,
that Cow must be wired to the moon.
The little Dog barfed,
as we all had fun
and the Dish got clubbed with a Spoon...
ali-p 2003
One of the biggest challenges when it comes to social media content is knowing what to post.
When creating content for social media, it is important to share a variety of types of content. Your content should educate, entertain, or sell.
sliced fruits on black round pan
https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1617694455303-59af55af7e58?fm=jpg&fit=crop&w=600&q=80&fit=max
grayscale photo of woman in black coat smiling
https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1604700378256-c55e5e7d8f03?fm=jpg&fit=crop&w=600&q=80&fit=max
if you could read some ones mind
do you every wounder what you'll find
maybe a mind full of hopes an wonderful dreams
or of thoughts of death an an not so good things
would you use it to your advantage to make people see the damage
or the warmness of there heart an not the darkness in every part
if you could read my mine do you wounder what you would find
wrote between the lines??
https://t.co/Zme3xmtTYb https://t.co/OH7TWFdkXT
