London Calling...

London was calling while its eye was watching us...

I had a charming partially Norwegian weekend with some peak hours in London and a birchy time in the Peak District. We climbed ancient druid crags while our Balian scarfs were waving in the charming spring winds, we experimented with heel hooks and slimy fluorescent walls, we admired shiny life-saving metal devices placed miraculously in perfect cracks and flirted with innocent photogenic ponds. Green was the color... It all culminated in a Moroccan dimension, with never ending bottles of African wine and an Arabic (!) baklava.
I'll let the pics speak for themselves...






Yes, Robin Hood was there too (era patronu')...

White Darwin...

How would it feel to be 200 years old? What kind of image would people have of yourself, of your work, of your thoughts, your history? How would they recall you, how many seconds would you be worth, how many words or ideas? Second thought: how would you perceive yourself after two centuries? Or maybe how would you have been 200 years ago and how would you have dared to challenge society's "common sense"? So many circular questions grew into heavy snowballs tonight, waiting to be thrown with preciseness at our winy brains... Happy Birthday, Mr. Darwin!

Luna...

... some moments just don't fit into the camera you're currently keeping on your desk and luckily their beauty might help you preserve the feeling for magic twists of your shrinking imagination; or maybe they'll just give you the final push to invest in better technology, which will just take your imagination's challenges to the limit... Whatever the choice, the moon and Orion will keep shining bright over your words on a dreamy Wednesday evening, until sleepy clouds will fill the night with plasteline memories to come.

Extreme weather part II

Last Monday's story repeated itself miraculously this Friday, when our cozy British world turned white again, and playful snowflakes took over the scenery for a couple of hours. Mails were slowly spreading panic office by office, talking about the "adverse weather conditions" and giving advice to leave work early, "before the weather gets too bad and while it is still light". Brave snow-fighters were facing the white beast, armed with whatever weapons they could get - ranging from leaf-blowing devices to car-wide snow(?)ploughs. Enchanted penguins were wondering around the campus with a bright smile on their face, immortalizing the white miracle and generously sharing their snow-walking expertise with the helpless population.








At the end of the day, we all got on the usual bus, and eventually woke up in a rather cold Cambridge Friday evening, messing with time, curiosity, beauty, emotion, buttons and perfection. Saturday morning imposed a Sunday's walk from Newnham's Rosalind Franklin building to King's college, in the comforting shadow of stony history, by shiny rivers, through white gardens, alongside disobeying ducks, underneath blue skies.

Finally, I got lost in the infinity of the green-white tree alley, searching for last's night dream, for huge penguin snowflakes, for the sphere of life or maybe for Benjamin Button's sunrise...

Afara ninge linistit...

... iar fulgii se-astern cu grija peste obiceiurile britanice, inghitind incet dar sigur peisaje verzi, cucerind sute de bicilete si-mproscand cu franturi de panica in dreapta si stanga...






O poveste alba, lunga de 10 cm, cu porti de scoli inchise, metrouri pitite in subteran, trenuri uitate in gara, autobuzuri grabite si o suita de masuri extreme ce duc la salvarea populatiei aflate intr-un efort de lunecare continua; un cadru pitoresc, situat la polul diametral opus epopeei norvegiene, pastrate intr-o amintire hibernala; o tragedie comica, in care miscarea perpetua a fulgilor impletita cu circularitatea unei panici naive creaza o gaura neagra a disperarii ce inghite farmecul alb in umbra unei nopti de februarie. Si uite cum nu si-a vazut ursul coada...