Holiday Photoze: Imaginary Wall

 

Having fantastic time.  Stopped to see the Great Imaginary Wall.  It is beautifully huge in a very big way.  Every part is unique and you never see the same piece twice. These pictures do not do it justice – so much justice here.  We will be heading back the Rod Serling Omni-Route and onto the Moebius Strip at the Roswell Parallel  Interchange, once we get the GPS working.

 

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No higher resolution available

~ A Tale of Tango, Memory, Hope &  Loss ~

( Perhaps a ghost or two )

 

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No higher resolution available. I had a simple rural environment in mind. It is important for meaning and memory design operation, as we have to keep building using the hands of simplicity, connecting to the shape of the Puertopomare’s layer.

 In the evenings, we watched the dancers in the fire’s light as they moved to the guitars’ song – Algunos Yeguas de mar. Apparently, the highway is difficult to traverse as it moves, winding down the mountainside . The presence at the rear part of Long Ridge Circus is the iron wall -just a small position on the sturdy Sierra de Gredos, belonging with those who do not have any heroes left; it shimmers in clouds like a sailboat flying across a body of water.

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They say that Rugarodeo knows the rolling method. I do not believe them. He resists all music, even when the guitars sing to the dying embers of the night.

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There were a few people that day who asked about literature on the subject of the photograph. The word, book, is not text, it is a submarine, but I only guess. The book, because it is a specific object, has no higher resolution – just a ticket. Taschen Book, Bauhaus, is what happened to the suburbs.

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I am better now, but I feel good only when I hear the singing and the guitars. Too many voices calling for recompense. Too many faces, vaguely familiar, dancing by in flickering firelight. This keeps the door closed. When shall I see you again ?

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In front of you, cameras of all types and sizes, you are singing tango. For example, a picture of time is a tango moving between moment, meaning and memory in perfect harmony of steps. I will paint your voice with the lens of time.

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A new Café, The Singing Teapot, is especially exciting – Bait, location, timing is everything. It can be music again, as it was before the troubles began, the roadways uncertain. Tango has a new Cayenne ! This can be used as an example at this time, she becomes a new night of memory, dressed in a gown of hope & loss.

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Lastly, I do not think those tango dancers will be going in a week; it is still a week till they re-open the highway through the mountains – though that may just be another rumour . Cooperation is incorrectly understood – it is the soul of Tango. On the back of that last photograph – I treasure it always – was written, “Vstupenka and Dove Wings in the Air”. Marina sings with the voice of the tango’s shadow, smiling tears, weeping laughter. None see me sitting at the corner table. None.

 

 

Seeing Spots Before the Eyes

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Same old song, I know you heard it,

Many times before.

Why does life in poverty seem so much like war ?

Just make sure you’re careful,

Where you place your feet –

When it’s the last tango on 16th Street.

 

 

Some of them don’t see so good when they leave the bars

Talking loud and ugly –

Step in front of cars. –

If you’re holding valuables, it pays to be discreet,

’cause it’s the Last Tango on 16th Street.

– Last Tango On 16th Street

performed by  Boz Scaggs

“‘Last Tango on 16th Street’ is a poignant portrait in a late night stroll through San Francisco’s Mission District, the city’s oldest neighbourhood,” Scaggs tells Rolling Stone. He calls the song “a picture of its rhythms, its contrasts and colours in high focus” and notes that it was “written by a friend and fine, great S.F. songwriter, Jack Walroth, who’s lived it for many years.”

Rolling Stone February 2015