Photo © aarthyr

   Take 3, close-up:

   "Look, there is a beautiful bright red apple in the table!", said the girl to the boy. "I'm hungry, what about you?", she asked, anxiously. "Well...", started the boy, "I've already heard something about a red poisonous fruit, and I really do not know if the author is crazy enough to change the apple... I believe it's better not to take a chance, if we don't want to fall deeply asleep..." 

© Blog da Rua Nove

Photo © aarthyr 

  Along the edge of the stream, a boy and a girl walked slowly, listening to a coloured deaf song, and smiling from time to time. It seems they had never noticed each other till that sunny morning, when The Power decided they should meet and write down a famous page in the historical daybook of the planet. Everything was prepared – the apple was on the table, the thin and short snake dressed as required, and the masters of The Power were all gathered around the TV set, to witness the event.

© Blog da Rua Nove

Photo © aarthyr

   Spreading light all over the woods, the sun started the day. Green spots of wide leaves protected bugs from the eyes of hungry birds. Some sticks of old wood rested among the grass, drawing strange dark forms in the ground. Near by, buzzing yellow-black bees were flying around little white blossoms. When touched, they would liberate small petals that fell slowly into the shining and fast waters of a winding brook.

© Blog da Rua Nove

http://www.flickr.com/photos/70821776@N00/

Photo © Sarah Wagner

   Shadows from the backstairs perforate your window. From across the street, dark brown façades come towards you. Exhausted, you are lost in the urban maze. Vague memories from a Colorado evening erode your life. Spirits from the past wave at you. A winding road twists your vision. A wet indigo dust penetrates your veil. A translucent mist sprinkles oblivion upon you. (Rest now... Rest...) Your transparent face finally smiles.

© Blog da Rua Nove

Photo © rbateman1972 

Put on your best smile and declare "My dear, many like it this way... I will not change because of you!"

© Blog da Rua Nove

The clear skies a deceiving portrait of heaven.

The dry air a burning fire.

The shallow lakes a liquid hell.

The fatigue a figure of speech.

But the men had a dream – a date with Dirty Gerty from Bizerte.

© Blog da Rua Nove

http://www.flickr.com/photos/potatoe/

Photo © Potatoe

Man Ray.

His metaphor – neither a woman nor a cello.

("Ceci...", l'a dit Magritte...) 

Kiki – the kernel of multiple universes.

A dragonfly – the reality.

A woman – our imagination.

© Blog da Rua Nove

Photo © acastellano

Yes. Blue.

Blue for everyone. Blue everywhere.

(Otherwise, how will we rejoice with the Yellow Submarine?)

Yes. Rose windows, gothic arches, high ceilings. All made out of  blue.

Ruins of blue...

© Blog da Rua Nove

Photo © cerealpkt

   No, Mariko. Deckard is no longer after you. Even though you still look like a replicant. Pris' replicant. Set your crystal ball aside, now. Stop acting, sorceress. The fools are gone. Stop quoting Roy Batty. Stop echoing his memory. Stop uttering his words. "All these moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain." You know it. We know it. Our virtual universe is eternal.

© Blog da Rua Nove

http://www.flickr.com/photos/s-a-m/

Photo © Samantha C.

   A cybernetic blue. The lightness of the face melting the heavy metal. Soft curved lines diluting the angles. Light escaping from the shadows. A dive into another universe. Concentric waves.

© Blog da Rua Nove