tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22210612699025700422024-03-12T23:20:56.047+00:00she's living at 72dpiUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger422125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2221061269902570042.post-58913605373878315002018-02-21T17:26:00.001+00:002018-02-21T17:26:30.629+00:00GESCHICHTE<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-vS2ipHyAQHM/Wo2rwCwgp3I/AAAAAAAAEI4/lR437V2780Qg9G0J5ayLuf6mjEq-OqsQACHMYCw/s640/blogger-image-1931469209.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-vS2ipHyAQHM/Wo2rwCwgp3I/AAAAAAAAEI4/lR437V2780Qg9G0J5ayLuf6mjEq-OqsQACHMYCw/s640/blogger-image-1931469209.jpg"></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2221061269902570042.post-49196105644807093802018-02-20T13:44:00.001+00:002018-02-22T08:38:39.465+00:00GESCHICHTEShe stared at the sea and thought of The Little Mermaid. She wore her insoles in the wrong shoes for two days, until she was nearly crippled. But physical pain wasn't cathartic. It wasn't an emotional release. It just made her more bad tempered. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2221061269902570042.post-80272943736669042762018-02-16T22:40:00.001+00:002018-02-16T22:40:47.608+00:00GESCHICHTE<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-yxIb9cbve0E/Wodd7ZThgcI/AAAAAAAAEIY/3WwnJDFzheABi5YIJzXHFzPQouLYzSHkgCHMYCw/s640/blogger-image-805263371.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-yxIb9cbve0E/Wodd7ZThgcI/AAAAAAAAEIY/3WwnJDFzheABi5YIJzXHFzPQouLYzSHkgCHMYCw/s640/blogger-image-805263371.jpg"></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2221061269902570042.post-27666730038651582062018-02-16T15:22:00.001+00:002018-02-16T15:22:44.991+00:00GESCHICHTEThe sea kept them out <div>The sea kept us in </div><div>Drowning in nostalgia and nationalism </div><div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Z9-UCKyG8aM/Wob3OgD9hCI/AAAAAAAAEIE/LkB0XV7b6PEp1kXuz2porBKbozNt3zgqACHMYCw/s640/blogger-image-704331040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Z9-UCKyG8aM/Wob3OgD9hCI/AAAAAAAAEIE/LkB0XV7b6PEp1kXuz2porBKbozNt3zgqACHMYCw/s640/blogger-image-704331040.jpg"></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2221061269902570042.post-3094104810430378222018-02-15T10:13:00.001+00:002018-02-15T10:13:07.236+00:00GESCHICHTE<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-gXCUzkVeeJs/WoVdMIzWvxI/AAAAAAAAEHw/H4AVjMeP0UAgDZcdZuk8iv7Y1TaorqYuQCHMYCw/s640/blogger-image-1789922939.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-gXCUzkVeeJs/WoVdMIzWvxI/AAAAAAAAEHw/H4AVjMeP0UAgDZcdZuk8iv7Y1TaorqYuQCHMYCw/s640/blogger-image-1789922939.jpg"></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2221061269902570042.post-54617708334665870572018-02-14T10:11:00.001+00:002018-02-14T10:13:35.025+00:00GESCHICHTEAs said, opined Ines <div>(Her audience had grown),</div><div>The streets are a mess,</div><div>There's no place like home. </div><div><br></div><div>My senses are sore </div><div>My heart is quite dead. </div><div>The life that I long for</div><div>Goes on in my head. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-twURKmIvf3o/WoQLWdqRvEI/AAAAAAAAEHc/XaskdVbC3BwTzuU5QpMXo_RVvmzkKkagQCHMYCw/s640/blogger-image--1111109803.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-twURKmIvf3o/WoQLWdqRvEI/AAAAAAAAEHc/XaskdVbC3BwTzuU5QpMXo_RVvmzkKkagQCHMYCw/s640/blogger-image--1111109803.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><br></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2221061269902570042.post-69519746000053753872018-02-13T19:31:00.001+00:002018-02-13T19:31:16.262+00:00GESCHICHTEIndeed, these days Ines was so lonely that she'd have welcomed gladly an encounter with someone she professed to hate so long as he were familiar. <div><br><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-pZngtNwk9PM/WoMuLn7NMpI/AAAAAAAAEG4/BQPntGzHOdMS3c2J39hHVePuuG5uUfODwCHMYCw/s640/blogger-image--546372310.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-pZngtNwk9PM/WoMuLn7NMpI/AAAAAAAAEG4/BQPntGzHOdMS3c2J39hHVePuuG5uUfODwCHMYCw/s640/blogger-image--546372310.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2221061269902570042.post-87124693912487447732018-02-13T13:17:00.001+00:002018-02-13T13:17:56.888+00:00GESCHICHTEThe man she'd loved most had had beautiful arms. <div><br></div><div>Now she was obsessed with a stranger because he had too. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2221061269902570042.post-67893826721758713632018-02-13T09:49:00.001+00:002018-02-13T19:59:16.892+00:00GESCHICHTE<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0KBqmEBKOKc/WoK0xer3-_I/AAAAAAAAEGk/Tfc57fU53pALEE7cKQjIEM2e65PYfMXbQCHMYCw/s640/blogger-image--1554172293.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0KBqmEBKOKc/WoK0xer3-_I/AAAAAAAAEGk/Tfc57fU53pALEE7cKQjIEM2e65PYfMXbQCHMYCw/s640/blogger-image--1554172293.jpg"></a></div><br></div>As the streets began to disintegrate into pot holes and rubble, the urgency to create <i>Home Beautiful</i> increased in a frenzy. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The obsolete white goods and soft furnishings were left on the pavement to rot. Stray cats slept on cushions and dogs pissed up armchair legs. </div><br></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2221061269902570042.post-65045014695048634772018-02-12T14:48:00.001+00:002018-02-12T14:52:57.833+00:00GESCHICHTE<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It was a mystery ...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The 95A, or could it be B?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Left at 5 past the hour </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Or, perhaps, 33.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It may go to Asda</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Or, then again not</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The jury was out </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">On where it may stop ...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Was für ein verdammtes Land, said Ines. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-YtPC1m1y4zY/WoGpOvTo4dI/AAAAAAAAEGE/6EaJLQh3vKs9usYk9u8gkZ8hNsYWUIaAACHMYCw/s640/blogger-image--1503037976.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-YtPC1m1y4zY/WoGpOvTo4dI/AAAAAAAAEGE/6EaJLQh3vKs9usYk9u8gkZ8hNsYWUIaAACHMYCw/s640/blogger-image--1503037976.jpg"></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2221061269902570042.post-82976169184931881602018-02-10T17:24:00.001+00:002018-02-10T17:28:42.159+00:00GESCHICHTEAnd another thing. <div><br></div><div>When did it happen? Where had she been? At what point had the definition of fact become repeating nonsense <i>ad</i> <i>nauseam</i>? </div><div><br></div><div>When everyone had stopped listening?</div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-gONWo9Zz-r4/Wn8qrn3JXJI/AAAAAAAAEFw/Ng7yBBDuVKs7PzXAU2RBoSupsw-iCIZAgCHMYCw/s640/blogger-image--89459120.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-gONWo9Zz-r4/Wn8qrn3JXJI/AAAAAAAAEFw/Ng7yBBDuVKs7PzXAU2RBoSupsw-iCIZAgCHMYCw/s640/blogger-image--89459120.jpg"></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2221061269902570042.post-55991730617548524692018-02-08T12:23:00.001+00:002018-02-10T14:16:28.624+00:00GESCHICHTEShe had always thought positively about nature's potential to reclaim the world, its capacity to wear away at manmade structures. To restore an order of some kind. <div><br></div><div>But since the secession her opinions had changed. Ivy everywhere, and tenacious grasses. Mud and shit and leaves. Brambles that pricked and ripped and tore. </div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div>Nature could also be mean and ugly. <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> </span></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-IWDLViKUNik/Wn7-uiVT3YI/AAAAAAAAEFg/nHkp6zhtwqk0KOLUXncc-BkMtrAIxyIVwCHMYCw/s640/blogger-image--1294300285.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-IWDLViKUNik/Wn7-uiVT3YI/AAAAAAAAEFg/nHkp6zhtwqk0KOLUXncc-BkMtrAIxyIVwCHMYCw/s640/blogger-image--1294300285.jpg"></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2221061269902570042.post-7369403365681459922018-02-07T19:01:00.001+00:002018-02-07T19:09:09.784+00:00GESCHICHTEFor example, I went to order a book. The woman at the desk took a very long time - and very pretty friendly chatty too - to explain that it wasn't in print. <div><br></div><div>I said it was. </div><div><br></div><div>She looked again. </div><div><br></div><div>Oh yes, she said, a different one. </div><div><br></div><div>A different what? exclaimed Ines to her imaginary audience. She waved her left hand dismissively. A different one from the one that ten minutes ago didn't exist? </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2221061269902570042.post-3554120253534290302018-02-06T10:54:00.001+00:002018-02-06T14:42:28.845+00:00GESCHICHTEThere's a direct correlation between inefficiency and bullshit, said Ines to her invisible interviewer. <div><br></div><div>She was standing in a queue. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2221061269902570042.post-30639709846621276492018-02-05T20:27:00.001+00:002018-02-05T20:27:24.743+00:00GESCHICHTESo what, said Ines to the imaginary microphone, what exactly strikes you as different now?<div><br></div><div>It's an aural geography, she began to explain. Bitterness and poverty are actually very noisy.</div><div><br></div><div>The imaginary interviewer looked at her quizzically. And what do you mean by that?</div><div><br></div><div>The roads are so bad that the traffic bangs and rattles. </div><div><br></div><div>The brakes on the trains scream like people being tortured. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/--cHzbQaXCJQ/Wni-Kllg_SI/AAAAAAAAEFA/Cv1E47zI1osl3e48et6zjQKfM_7iS5MVQCHMYCw/s640/blogger-image--48923316.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/--cHzbQaXCJQ/Wni-Kllg_SI/AAAAAAAAEFA/Cv1E47zI1osl3e48et6zjQKfM_7iS5MVQCHMYCw/s640/blogger-image--48923316.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>The people complain like there's no tomorrow. </div><div><br></div><div>The problem with earplugs is they make your ears itch. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2221061269902570042.post-54963851922678636572018-02-05T15:38:00.001+00:002018-02-05T20:19:00.845+00:00GESCHICHTEThings had changed since the country had voted to secede from the Union. <div><br></div><div>The separation process was ongoing - though the economists, sociologists and anthropologists believed it would never be complete, while the philosophers and some of the physicists opined that completion was an outmoded premise anyway - but its effects were very apparent to Ines. </div><div><br></div><div>She'd been in self-imposed exile for twenty-six months. </div><div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Cl7BOPlPsik/Wni8MWLlDDI/AAAAAAAAEE0/5aVQElKq-EQNYb8TNfZPEQ5Gx9OUEY38ACHMYCw/s640/blogger-image--1627788348.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Cl7BOPlPsik/Wni8MWLlDDI/AAAAAAAAEE0/5aVQElKq-EQNYb8TNfZPEQ5Gx9OUEY38ACHMYCw/s640/blogger-image--1627788348.jpg"></a></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2221061269902570042.post-86231201101088629102018-02-05T13:36:00.001+00:002018-02-05T15:02:39.007+00:00GESCHICHTEIch bin wieder da, said Ines to herself.<div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Looking a little worse for wear and speaking German like a Gastarbeiter, she added out loud. </span><div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">What passed for sensible and sartorially-acceptable where she'd been evidently looked out of place - perhaps insane - at Temple Meads. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5MLxvwDa4dM/WnhdwlDIvoI/AAAAAAAAEEY/z_5HfjFaVxUhvPLEYQU3iZa5oJ8g3MiGACHMYCw/s640/blogger-image-957610813.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5MLxvwDa4dM/WnhdwlDIvoI/AAAAAAAAEEY/z_5HfjFaVxUhvPLEYQU3iZa5oJ8g3MiGACHMYCw/s640/blogger-image-957610813.jpg"></a></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div>She felt like Julie Andrews leaving the convent. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">No one would meet her gaze. </span></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2221061269902570042.post-54126927384145210202016-08-19T16:53:00.005+01:002017-09-18T10:24:27.824+01:00Sag's Auf Deutsch (29)<br>
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I know, she shouted incensed exasperated, I've heard it all before. </div>
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They looked at her quite disappointed. </div>
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Backpfeifengesichter, she thought uncharitably.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2221061269902570042.post-79116380249293445152016-08-19T16:43:00.005+01:002017-09-18T10:23:49.716+01:00Sag's Auf Deutsch (28)<br>
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If I could just remember what's important, she said, aber, ich kann mich nicht erinnern . . .</div>
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So we sit below a threatening storm and wait impatiently for each other to stop talking, so that we can start recounting our pasts too.</div>
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But the important things aren't in the past, she said. Epiphanies are now.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2221061269902570042.post-15533177985630447242016-08-11T22:02:00.001+01:002016-08-11T22:36:57.083+01:00Sag's Auf Deutsch (26) <br />
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Ich habe dich unheimlich gern(e)<br />
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Uncanny.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2221061269902570042.post-37793228594566693182016-07-23T18:08:00.000+01:002016-07-23T18:08:02.793+01:00Sag's Auf Deutsch (25)<br />
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You can't suppress people for long, he said.</div>
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Reise über die stille Seite, antwortete ich.</div>
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Wild, he said.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2221061269902570042.post-83323223234937035282016-07-17T21:44:00.005+01:002016-07-17T23:01:25.111+01:00Sag's Auf Deutsch (24)<br />
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SAG'S AUF DEUTSCH (24)</div>
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My dear friend said to me, a good friend is the one with whom you can discuss the times when you weren't a good friend.<br />
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When you really didn't like each other.<br />
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Also, heute wurde ich wieder Freunde mit einem guten Freund.<br />
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(Richtig oder nein?)</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2221061269902570042.post-84858709997570328072016-07-14T18:32:00.002+01:002016-08-11T22:37:13.308+01:00Sag's Auf Deutsch (23)<br />
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SAG'S AUF DEUTSCH (23)</div>
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So, who's the problem here? </div>
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He seemed certain. </div>
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Ganz bestimmt. </div>
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Ich glaube nicht, dachte ich. But when all's said and done, how can we ever know? </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2221061269902570042.post-54056917730534379792016-07-06T04:00:00.000+01:002016-07-06T04:00:16.022+01:00Sag's Auf Deutsch (22)<br />
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SAG'S AUF DEUTSCH (22)</div>
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Ergo, Gott sei Dank für meinen unsichtbaren Freund. </div>
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(Accusative, I think.)</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0