Captain's Log: Day 43

Finally! I'm done exams and I have time to update my blog once again! :)
alrighty, well... i don't have much to say, i'm currently still writing the second mini story of my story, 'three seconds'... so that will be later, but i just felt like sharing a bit of my... lol! er... artsyness? so yeah, check this out ;)


so this one is done on photoshop, the background and whatever I painted it on photoshop myself! :) then the person... well you might recognize it as I've previously put it up on this blog... you know, when i put up pictures of all those drawings on my wall... well that's one of them! I like the sunset

the second one is a little manipulation... i guess you could call it that. So what happens when you put these to pictures together?:



What you get is.... THIS!:


You end up having TWINS! hahaha! oh... i make myself laugh.
This is also done on photoshop, darn... i love that program!

alright, well that's about it for today! :)

Captain's Log: Day 42

Love At First Sight
Wislawa Szymborska

They're both convinced
that a sudden passion joined them.
Such certainty is beautiful,
but uncertainty is more beautiful still.

Since they'd never met before, they're sure
that there'd be nothing between them.
But what's the word from the streets, staircases, hallways --
perhaps they've passed by each other a million times?

I want to ask them
if they don't remember --
a moment face to face
in some revolving door?
perhaps a "sorry" muttered in a crowd?
a curt "wrong number" caught in the receiver --
but I know the answer.
No, they don't remember.

They'd be amazed to hear
that Chance had been toying with them
now for years.

Not quite ready yet
to become their Destiny.
It pushed them close, drove them apart,
it barred their path,
stifling a laugh,
and then leaped aside.

There were signs and signals,
even if they couldn't read them yet.
Perhaps three years ago
or just last Tuesday
a certain leaf fluttered
from one shoulder to another?
Something was dropped and then picked up.
Who knows, maybe the ball that vanished
into childhood's thicket.

There were doorknobs and doorbells
where one touch had covered another
beforehand.
Suitcases checked and side by side.
One night, perhaps the same dream,
grown hazy by morning.

Every beginning
is only a sequel, after all,
and the book of events
is always open halfway through.

Translated from Polish by
Stanislaw Baranczak and Clare Cavanagh
The End and the Beginning, 1993