Mensiki

Hoshino

remnants

later

lucky strike

places, faces

those days

Swords And Sandals

somehting something Murakami Haruki - Killing Commedatore something something

Dusty Attic Vibes

Cruisin' through Alsórákos

Look again at that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there—on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds.

Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.

The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.

It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known.

— Carl Sagan (1934-1996)

p a l e   b l u e   d o t

Iͭ͆̈́͏̙̖̗̰͙̥

 ͐͑́h͉͔̥͈̟͢a̸̍̿̍ͫ̐̆̂v̰̤̕é̥͂̒̔ͣ͆ ͔̬̑̍ͥn̩̻̻̮͎ͧ͊ͫ̂ō̹̣ͨ͝ͅ ̎ͤ҉͔e̥̱͛̽n̪ͪͭ̇ͪ̽̋ͬë̉m̼̳̭̩̹͌̉͐ͭ̆̒ͤi̷͈̗̗ͭè̈́̚s̺,̳̜͓̣͍̳͉̅̒̇̅ ̪̟̞̼̜̩͆̅͑̀͒ͭ͘b̧̜̜̓̍͂ͦ̎̚u̫̠̳ͥ̄̽t̲͕̤̟͆̈͂̚ ̜̬͕̬̦̈̀ͫ̑͗̊m͗̽͂̚y̶̪̠͉̅̅ͬ ̱̓͢f̷̯͚̰̟ͥͅͅr̖̠̩̪͜ͅi͇͉̭̼̹̫͉ͭ̆͆ͧeͩͫ̓ņ̪̞̘̮̳͙̍d̸̲̦ͣ͛s̱̝͇̞͇ͯͪ̾̈̀͗ͅ ̡̥̝̞͚̪̥d̜͛͋͟ŏ͂͌ͮ҉̲̣͙ͅn̙̤̙ͥ̆ͬ'͓͉̱̤͈͊̈́t̵͙̰̥ͧ̊̒͐͊̑̍ ͔̗͙̹̥̰̉͝ḷ̆́͊ͬ̀͗ͯi̼̤̱̺̙͐̓͡ͅk̶͔̻̳̜̪̰̩ͥͫ͒ͧ̒e͍ͮ ̻͇̮̞̰̪̆ͩm̲̮̪̒ͦ́̐̐ͮ͊e̥̯̯͇͕͙̙̅ͪ

There's No Oceans Left f̷oŕ  Scavengers̴ l͏i̸k͘e Me

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Ḏ̰̲̣͕͚͍̃͑ͮ̆ͫ͊îͯͨ͏v̖̮̼̫̄̈̓̅̕e̮̪͉͍̳͇̪͐ͮͪ̏ ̯̇ͣ͂ͯͣ̎̔͡d̸̦̣̜͈͙ͯ̎̾̃ͣͤe̵̮͔̬̲͉̰ͬ͗e̜͚̙̞̳͛ͨ̈́ͪ̉̊ͬp͇͕͕̱̪̣ͥͥ̑ ̸͇͓͖̳̲̳ͯ̎ͤͤ͐̀ỉ͚̗̙͍͍̻ͯ̏n̦̟̙ͪ̓͂̍̃ ͂̅̓̔ͩt͋҉̩͎h͉̻͖̯̹̍̒̊̎͗e̠̫̩͈̯̫͙̎ͩ́́̚ ͮ̒̊͝mͥ̇̂͞ị͈̻̮̮͓ͨͮͪͮ̿n͑̄̏ͥ͂̚d̥̪̮̠̞̭̞̚
̠̤̯̐ͥͩo͎̜ͦ̐ͬf̪ͫ̔͑͜ ̳̅̅ͬ̈͊̅t̶͇̘̭̲̱̎̓͋̓ͅh̢̟̤̖̤̻̜̊ͮ̽͒e̯̗͎̩̠̩͉̅͒̐ͮͫ̒̆̕ ͍̙̙̮̝̝̌ͦ̆̈̏ͯ̚n̰̑ͩè̢͙̓͛͂̔ͅp̴̬̱̄̇̐̅̂h̬̤̬̝̩̫ͬͧͫ́i̱̙̟̳̙ͬ̀ͩͣ́l͔̖̮̪ͤ̏̓i͍͇̤̼̥̩ͦͤ̃ͬ́̃m̵͇̣̽̒̋,̷̽́̉ ̞͇͓̌fͫ͆̅͢o̷̤̫ͫ́ͨ͑̈́̽r̹̣̤̜̪ͪͧ̽͂ ͇̞̩͔͕̯ͥ̈́ͨ̀t̥͎͍͔͆ͣ̌͋ͧ͟h̺̩͕̱̫ͨ͌ͤͤͤͦ̀é̷͗ͭ ͙̤̫š̄͏͇̳͚̫e̠̜̪̤̖͈͞c̼̬͇͛̿̽ͭ͋r̉ͤͣ̊͊̾͢ȅ̺͓̺ͭ͛̓̊̊̿t̟̻̭̞̫͎̠͑̍̍͐̄ͪș̫̘̠̠ͬ̌̃̇̉̒ ̸͎̼̩̬̝̰̣̀͋ͧ
̯̞͆̓̂̐͝o̵̼ͯf̰̬͙̩̎̈́̓ͧ
̤̻̙͍͔̹̤ͮã͠l̊̎̃̄lͨ҉̜ ̼̔t͔̲̿ͭ̽̿ͭͧh̺͔̙̳͔̮̑ͥ͒̑̽̀̄a̞̮͉̞̼̙ť̛̈͑̋͛̚ ̷̖̩͓̥͖ͫͥ̔̈́ṁ̡̤̮̻̖̳̆̈́̄a͗̈́ŷ̳̗͙̦̓̿̊̄ͩ ͗̅̎̇ͬͦ҉̠̥̦͔̥c̳̱͕͖̍ő̟͎̲͆ͧ͐mͩͯ͛̒̂̕ë͕̯̙̫̞͓̥ͣ͒̆ ̧̠̌ͪ͂̿

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Voy̶ager

Late night Cocktail

good and bad vibes.
contact: inq.shen@gmail.com

‎.shen

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