Today, I threw away some cookies. They were vanilla and chocolate. They sit out on a counter, where people fix their coffee. I was hungry, so I grabbed two. They were awful. They were stale. I’m sure they would never be threatened by ants or roaches.
I need to replace the cookies. I would prefer, they were not there at all. They are processed and cancer producing. Who really needs that? But none the less, there they are.
The interchange of technology has no terminal velocity. It continually accelerates. Which is wonderful if you have cavernous pockets. Or your spending habits have no boundaries. Or you happen to be one of those photographers that the manufacturers/sales and marketers give the cameras to, to entice others to purchase their newest, latest and greatest camera or gadget. Continue reading ￼DxO One
This has been a relatively constant theme in my life, both value and direction. And how does one affect the other.
The fish above are a red bass and a trout. Which is more valuable? Would they have had more value, if I had cleaned them off and held them up properly for their photo. Could I have made them more respectable fish?
There is no breath in the fish. There is no life. Did their fish souls fly to heaven? Are they in the big ocean in the sky?
Is it over populated there? Do they tell you how to swim? Are some spots better than others?
Paralleling the concepts of fisheyefarm.com. and @everydaypazarazza my instagram account, which celebrates the extraordinary, mediocrity of everyday existence, I keep thinking, “Every one looks like a movie star to me”. Continue reading Domestic Details
Meet my new Gravatar. For those that don’t know, a gravatar is a graphic representation of a blog user. It’s your cyber identity. When you like or comment on a post your icon will appear. A person can hover over the image and more information (a profile), will display. My about information is once again empty. Tossed in the trash, to be replaced at a future date.
Zero had walked a long way. She relied on a cane to hold herself straight. Her bamboo staff, swung with her stride; step, step, step.
After years of traveling life, wandering here and there, her shoulders felt the weight of time.
Zippy was bright and with the skinny legs of a new born colt. He had just begun his walk. He had yet to be bruised or broken. He had spent years on his mother’s milk, playing by the shore, doing childish things as children do.