"All this he saw, for one moment breathless and intense, vivid on the morning sky; and still, as he looked, he lived; and still, as he lived, he wondered."

Nighthawks

Che questo quadro fosse oggetto di una vera e propria mania, lo sapevo. Ma non pensavo fino a questo punto.

usw…

Spooktober

Spooktober 29 – The Black Monk (4)

Chapter 7 One long winter night Kovrin was lying in bed, reading a French novel. Poor Tanya, who had headaches in the evenings from living in town, to which she was not accustomed, had been asleep a long while, and, from time to time, articulated

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technology

Hey, teacher, leave the bumblebee alone

Every few months it comes back. A pencil drawing of a bee, a quote in a serif font, and different authorities invoked as the source: aerodynamically speaking, the bee cannot fly, but it doesn’t know that, so it flies anyway. It gets shared and liked,

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Spooktober

Spooktober 28 – The Black Monk (3)

Chapter 5 Glad that he had been so successful in the part of peacemaker, Kovrin went into the park. Sitting on a garden seat, thinking, he heard the rattle of a carriage and a feminine laugh — visitors were arriving. When the shades of evening

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5 Comments
  • Damiani
    Posted at 14:10h, 30 May Reply

    la Gioconda è molto risentita di tutto ciò…

  • utente anonimo
    Posted at 15:37h, 30 May Reply

    E Paride Rotulese non c’è, in questo quadro?

  • Shelidon
    Posted at 16:13h, 30 May Reply

    @ Damiani: eh, mi dispiace… ma portale i miei saluti la prossima volta che la vedi. Dille che io le ho sempre preferito la Vergine delle Rocce. No, magari non dirglielo…

    @ misterioso anonimo: certo che c’è. E’ dietro il bancone. Insieme al gatto.

  • contenebbia
    Posted at 12:53h, 31 May Reply

    C’è la versione alla Bosch?

  • Shelidon
    Posted at 10:03h, 03 June Reply

    Credo di sì, cher Comte. Manca invece una scena che apparve su un Marvel tempo fa (X-Factor #5, su sa il cielo quale X-men Deluxe, mi pare che ne parlai…)

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Spooktober 29 – The Black Monk (4)

Chapter 7 One long winter night Kovrin was lying in bed, reading a French novel. Poor Tanya, who had headaches in the evenings from living in town, to which she was not accustomed, had been asleep a long while, and, from time to time, articulated

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