Just clouds

This is how part of the sky looked last evening. I don't know why I'm posting this or why I converted the pic in BW but... well, now it's up, so enjoy - or not.

31 what?

• lost pairs of sunglasses?
• electrocuted cteatures?
  
• nutters passing by wondering what this is about?

I have no idea but thought this was funny... then again, I may be wrong, as I am of so many things.

Rock'n'roll

aka


The views from just above 2000m of altitude are special... clouds rolling around ragged rocks in no man's land. But this is much easier attainable than it looks: a road, albeit steep and narrow, leads right up to the heart of the Julian Alps.



For more SkyWatch photos, this is the place to go.

WW

The right path?

The sign says so...



Ruby Tuesday is hosted by the teach at Work of the Poet

UPDATE: seems the sign is mystery to most of you. A red circle around a white dot is used to mark a trail, usually in the mountains. But it seems this kind of trail blazing is used only in Slovenia (I didn't know that). This one is painted on a boulder partly covered in moss.

After party

In the city park are places where one can rest, have a snack, read a paper or a book or whatever one would wish to do in a shady spot. After human visitors have left, a different kind of party takes place.

Flowers for a poet

I passed this guy a few days ago and noticed somebody had put flowers in his lap. Perhaps they felt sorry for the man who had become stiff from waiting... but waiting for whom, or what?

The man had a name when he was alive and maybe somebody who liked his poetry honoured his memory in this fashion...

The man's name is Edvard Kocbek and he was a controversial figure in the recent history, a political dissident and poet par excellence. Something I found translated into English for a taster:-



REQUEST


I implore my memory to reach back, to seize all doubts
and despairs, all hopes and passions, all dreams and funerals,
all prophecies and disappointments, all the killed, crippled
and wounded, desecrated, all exalted on altars and wrapped in
flags, all intoxicated by happiness and sobered from sorrow, let me
remember all weepings and jubilations, all funny stories and loves,
all sins, all leaps into the unknown, all fires, floods, earthquakes
and God's commandments, let all the tender fragile ties that bind
body and soul, me and someone else, be revealed, let me perceive
all conceptions and gentle abandons, all the shameful
confessions and states of purity, let the remembrances of a
l these vibrate inside me and my surroundings, and let me be
included in the collective guilt and the collective absolution.
I, thus, request to be able. to keep neighbors in front of and behind
me, be the middleman of messages from the future even though
they at times are strange, incomprehensible, threatening or
calming, brief or tedious. It is probable that none of us fully
understands the whole game, but courage itself is absolute
and all-knowing.