Sunrise on February 18th, 2008

Published on 02/21/08 at 12:49:26 pm using 21 words.

Photograph by Iris H. - February 18th, 2008

This just in...

Published by Iris in Miscellaneous, Photography, LUMIX, DMC-TZ3,
Published on 02/20/08 at 12:08:10 pm using 68 words.

You never know when a spontaneous smile will take hold of your face. Just as you never know where such a smile might come from. Just as you never know what awaits you in the next block as you make your way home…

All lovely surprises…

Photograph by Iris H.

Photograph by Iris H.


Guest Blogger (Rom)

Published by Iris in Inspired by, People, In Portuguese,
Published on 02/16/08 at 05:01:51 pm using 2507 words.

The following is the Portuguese-written version of a real life ‘lost in translation’ experience first recounted to me last year that quickly became one of the most memorable and funniest stories I’ve ever been told and which went on to inspire A Rom-inspired Blog.

Photograph by Stuck in Customs (flickr)

A importância do domínio da língua inglesa na atualidade

by Romulo (Rom) Araújo

Que o inglês deixou de ser requisito diferenciador entre as pessoas, como era até a um tempinho atrás, todos já estão cansados de saber. Hoje em dia a língua inglesa não é considerada como um idioma a mais na sua formação, mas sim uma língua obrigatória. A história que vou contar tem um pouco a ver com o não domínio da língua e como isso pode te deixar em situações bastante embaraçosas (ou engraçadas, como preferirem).

Full story »


Published by Iris in Bubbledom ~, Miscellaneous,
Published on 02/14/08 at 08:29:18 am using 45 words.

Happy Valentine’s Day, baby! (sighdades)

Photograph by lionscavern (flickr)

Currently shattering window panes with a rendition of…
Coldplay - Green Eyes/A rush of blood to the head

The Gift of Observation

Published by Iris in Random Thoughts, Miscellaneous,
Published on 02/12/08 at 08:56:22 am using 297 words.

Photograph by maurice flower (flickr)

If you’re quiet enough to look around, you’ll find there’s a lot to be discovered in any one place, about any one person. Standing on a crowded subway car, bus or elevator - in fact, standing or sitting just about anywhere, provided you’re imbued with the requisite inner quiet brought on by restraint of movement - you will often have no choice but to let your eyes sit and your mind wonder.

It’s true, observation can only take you so far. It can lead you down a stretch that might turn out to be drab and lifeless like an L.A. sidewalk or life-infusing and exuberant like the tour of a Montmartre block given to a blind man by Amélie Poulain (One of my all-time favorite movie sequences, by the way.)

Amélie Poulain

Photograph by doublelibra (flickr)

People are open books. Sometimes made illegible by distance or inconvenient viewing angles. But most of the information is there for anyone who favors quietness to see. A voice emitted for the benefit of an undisclosed ear on the other side of a cell phone, a particular modulation that hints at professionalism, a pack of cigarettes semi-hidden in a pocket, a tattoo that at once displays and conceals a story. That’s what the senses are there for. For picking up on information and creating stories… taking what is and piling up further ‘whats’ and ‘whatnots’ on top of it. Adding cacti or flowers to a desert, filling in the blanks predictably or outrageously but filling in the blanks… embellishing for better or worse and occasionally hitting the mark of truth, which, though not the target frequency, is often enough.

The Angle of Recognition

Published by Iris in Memory Lane, Places,
Published on 02/11/08 at 07:20:44 am using 661 words.

The world is awfully small. Wonderfully small. Cozy, really. Small enough for men to have made it to the moon and back so why not for one to accidentally find in a new friend’s soon to be former residence the setting to a party of one’s youth?

That, to me, reinforces the feeling that places keep us. That the relationship between people and places is very much symbiotic. People lend their stories to a particular place while places in their greater permanence add a measure of longevity to stories and their people. Before Sunrise That symbiosis is clearly illustrated in the final shots of Before Sunrise where we revisit the deserted places that served as background to the story of Jesse and Celine as it unfolded. As you look at those shots, it’s undeniable that a cemetery is no longer just a cemetery, a Ferris Wheel no longer just a Ferris Wheel, a boat no longer just a boat, a park no longer just a park. A cemetery, a Ferris Wheel, a boat and a park, among other locations managed to keep those characters, however transient their stay.

In my case, a building kept an entire party. Now reduced to scattered images of teenagers, conversations against a background of greenery, music, flashing lights, glass doors. And haze… a lot of haze added by the present, by the years from there to here.

It’s an underrated experience, to find right on the eve of a friend’s moving, the angle of recognition - that one angle amid 360, which leaves you feeling that this is the closest to time travel you’ll ever come.

Time travel does exist but it is limited to the confines of memory. Memory, of course, being the narrow-minded, biased sort of faculty that takes you on a strictly private ride. It all happens within the confines of your mind. Like Jodie Foster’s experience in Contact. Something that’s not there to ever be fully shared or understood.

The angle of recognition snaps something into place and you begin to make your way through the haze. Not really understanding why the details that stand out, in fact do. Like what you were wearing… why would you remember the black skirt and pink blouse, of all things? Or the black hooded dress (there may have been two separate parties in that same place. How to be sure? The certainty is right there. You can sense it. Right behind that thicker patch of haze.)

How old was that girl? Thirteen? Fourteen? Whose party was it? Who used to live in the same neighborhood you now work? Those more relevant pieces of information elude you. They hide behind the haziness holding a cigarette, adding smoke to the air, keeping secrets, making you think long and hard, and take pictures (any excuse to take pictures being at once welcome and unnecessary) and reach out to the people who were there and are here to contribute with their own memories. Those who are most likely to finish your thoughts and sentences… and make that ride ever so slightly less solitary.

- Do you remember if any of the kids I went to school with lived in BF on S———– street?

- Uh… I don’t remember. Maybe. (pause) Maybe those twins… What were their names?

- I was in R——-’s building today and I was walking around the playground when it hit me. I think I’ve been to a party in that building. When I was 13 or so… Do you think that’s possible?

- It’s possible.

- I’m not sure but I think I might remember what I wore to it. It may have been…

- … a black skirt and a pink blouse?

Matching smiles.

The Original Photos

Currently shattering window panes with a rendition of…
Pearl Jam - Elderly woman behind the counter in a small town/Vs.


Published on 02/11/08 at 07:14:10 am using 54 words.


I was addicted to saying things and having them matter to someone.


Click here if you haven’t heard of the movie Waitress and the name Adrienne Shelly fails to ring a bell.

Comfort (Mansfield Park)

Published by Iris in Favorite Quotes / Passages,
Published on 01/27/08 at 04:14:29 pm using 71 words.

There will be little rubs and disappointments everywhere, and we are all apt to expect too much; but then, if one scheme of happiness fails, human nature turns to another; if the first calculation is wrong, we make a second better: we find comfort somewhere.

Jane Austen (1775 - 1817), Mansfield Park