Artificial arms boost limbless loggerhead turtle

Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it's a squid

AFP.com

Mal au coeur

Des millions de harengs retrouvés morts dans un... par lemondefr

Britain’s new space-age Antarctic base can slide across ice | The Japan Times

Britain’s new space-age Antarctic base can slide across ice | The Japan Times

Dead tired

I feel nothing. I feel nothing.

Hovering in mid-air without a sound.

I feel nothing.

No earthly grasp. No bearing.

No beacon to light nor to follow.

The hem of my coat unseamed.

Unravelling. Raving. Reeling.

I feel hollow. I feel hollow.

Like a coreless trunk, a bleached coral.

A kite is what I most resemble now.

A kite in squalls paused in a painting.

One inch from toppling down yet not toppling down.

On the brink to. On the brink to.

And I am dead tired of it.

I wish I fell. I wish I fell.

Yes, I wish that.

Up to my fingertips stretched out,

My legs stiff and still, my back, rigid.

The shadow under me should draw a cross.

It should.

I am dead tired of this too.

Wasteland. All this is a wasteland; I am a wasteland.

I am like a puppet whose strings used to be attached.

Those strings were cut.

Yet this body of mine floats for he remembers.

No, he can never forget the strings.

What they did to him.

Those strings were cut, yet I hover.

I have never felt more human than now.

Time has no end, no beginning. Time does not exist.

Time cannot exist. We live on impressions.

We live in depressions. We like not the summits,

Where the sun shines the brightest.

If I could write my life

I would be a hate letter away

From vanishing.

I am that bone-tired.

My skeleton made of eggshell glass

Brittler than a tamarind flake.

Were my body broken perhaps

I would feel something.

Humans are like that, so people say.

None is beyond oblivion. Nothing is.

None is shatterproof. Nothing is.

Expecting our notion of time to yield

Is expecting a chicken to lay an asteroid:

There is a billion to one chance.

Pain and distrust percolate

The churches, the mosques, the synagogues,

The banks, the schools, the governments.

I am between the anvil and the hammer,

And this is tiring, straining, enraging me to death

Whilst I hover, paused as on photographs of old,

Sepiaed by survival,

Worn thin by unrealised expectation,

In the still furore of existence,

Unshod, haggard, halfway to everything,

As incapable of action as of inaction.

I am hollow, hollow, hollow.

About (The) T/time(s)

 

"Trying to determine what is going on in the world by reading newspapers is like trying to tell the time by watching the second hand of a clock."

Ben Hecht, screenwriter, playwright, novelist, director, and producer (1894-1964)

 

Richard III: The mystery of the king and the car parking lot

CNN's article's here and BBC's is there.

To hell

“Hell, I am young. I am free. My teeth are clean. The sun shines. To hell with everything else.”

Stephen Fry, Making History

Caméra embarquée sur la ligne de front d'Alep

Caméra embarquée sur la ligne de front à Alep par lemondefr


Le reportage de Jérôme Sessini pour le Monde.fr dans l'avenue Dar Al-Ajazi, terrain de chasse des snipers, a obtenu ce vendredi le troisième prix du World press photo, dans la catégorie courtes vidéos Web.

Frying the Self

“If you know someone who’s depressed, please resolve never to ask them why. Depression isn’t a straightforward response to a bad situation; depression just is, like the weather.

Try to understand the blackness, lethargy, hopelessness, and loneliness they’re going through. Be there for them when they come through the other side. It’s hard to be a friend to someone who’s depressed, but it is one of the kindest, noblest, and best things you will ever do.” 



“It's not all bad. Heightened self-consciousness, apartness, an inability to join in, physical shame and self-loathing—they are not all bad. Those devils have been my angels. Without them I would never have disappeared into language, literature, the mind, laughter and all the mad intensities that made and unmade me.” 



“You are who you are when nobody's watching.” 



“Choking with dry tears and raging, raging, raging at the absolute indifference of nature and the world to the death of love, the death of hope and the death of beauty, I remember sitting on the end of my bed, collecting these pills and capsules together and wondering why, why when I felt I had so much to offer, so much love, such outpourings of love and energy to spend on the world, I was incapable of being offered love, giving it or summoning the energy with which I knew I could transform myself and everything around me.”



“There were people who believed their opportunities to live a fulfilled life were hampered by the number of Asians in England, by the existance of a royal family, by the volume of traffic that passed by their house, by the malice of trade unions, by the power of callous employers, by the refusal of the health service to take their condition seriously, by communism, by capitalism, by atheism, by anything, in fact, but their own futile, weak-minded failure to get a fucking grip.”



“People who can change and change again are so much more reliable and happier than those who can’t.”