Lyssna fritt i 30 dagar! Ange kod: play Du kanske gillar. Late in the Day Tessa Hadley Inbunden. Of Love. Spara som favorit. Skickas inom vardagar. Caveat lector. The idea that truth can best be revealed through quantitative models dates back to the development of statistics and boasts a less-than-benign legacy. And the idea that data is gold waiting to be mined; that all entities including people are best understood as nodes in a network; that things are at their clearest when they are least particular, most interchangeable, most aggregated — well, perhaps that is not the theology of the average lit department yet.
But it is surely the theology of the 21st century. Tell us what you think. Please upgrade your browser. See next articles. Newsletter Sign Up Continue reading the main story Please verify you're not a robot by clicking the box. Invalid email address. Please re-enter.
Ars Longa, Via Brevis: (A collection of creative non-fiction) [Russell Bittner] on dynipalo.tk *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. One could easily argue that all. Editorial Reviews. About the Author. Russell Bittner is first and foremost a father; next, a poet; Ars Longa, Via Brevis: (A collection of creative non-fiction.).
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You will receive emails containing news content , updates and promotions from The New York Times. I hated rainy days like this when you were forced to sit and submit to your hunger. Hunger that often lead you to a dingy place or a fast food chain.
Yet there I was, still hoping for a promising night. I just hated days like this. The soup arrived after a short notice and I drenched my throat with its warmth. It overwhelmed my frustrations and I began to compose myself as I removed my earphones. The soothing piano disappeared and was replaced by the music from a kvetchy stereo. It was this time that I scanned the place where in three tables were occupied- one table occupied by a grouchy old man. Perhaps we shared the same sentiments- the rain conniving with the gods to spoil our evening. The gods must be bored.
I gratified myself with a bowl of soup while I occasionally glanced at my phone. So much for a promising night, I quipped to myself. The gods must be taunting me. I resigned to my fate. It was then that you entered that door. Your wet clothing clung to your body while I visibly saw the water cascading its way from your hair to the tips of your fingers.
Your hair and face glistened as the moisture trickled on your face. It was like the dew of a cold morning when the sun glimpsed on the east mountains and the clouds sang to herald the new day. I was caught by your beauty. It was then that I heard the smirking silence that I realized once more that we were not alone. You sat on the table adjacent to me and you threw an innocent glance at me.
I caught it bashfully. I smiled at you and nodded. You nodded in return. It was like watching a classic painting brought into life when you smiled back at me.
It was beautiful and hurting at the same time. There we were — strangers at a strange place in this strange time. You started your dinner while I began to finish mine. Sometimes I caught your eyes swaying their hues on me coyly. We were like that — smiling and warming ourselves without the pressure of talking. I could feel you reaching for me, or was it only my presumptuous self? Sometimes when you looked at your food, I stole observing glances at you and I found out that you still wore your wet clothes.
Time and silence kept on taunting us but neither of us submitted to this opportunity made by the heavens. Perhaps the rain brought us here to have our lives intertwined. Yet Destiny played with us coyly.
I finished my dinner and you sat there anxious — or was it me painting this silly thought? It was like waiting for the last drop of rain to fall. I called for the bill and paid it silently. I was hoping for the rain to continue pouring heavily — for you to come to me and to share the shelter offered by the umbrella hooked on my chair. Our eyes met for the last time as I reached for the doorknob and heard the clinging sound of the chimes.
Seconds seemed like eternity and I opened my umbrella. I reached for my pocket and kept my phone to the deepest part of it. The rain trickled in soft drizzles and it was then a thought dawned to me — it was a wonderful, a promising night after all. I closed my umbrella and felt the rain hugged me. I hoped that the same rain that hugged your body would embrace me tonight.
Yes, I hate them. But not tonight. Piliin, pillin ang naiiba. The title reminds me of the flicks like Itlog, Talong , etc. You'll be disappointed though since the story revolves around three characters whose lives are intertwined and served before the audience in a barbecue style, not the doggie style. The characters were brought together by a bus accident.
The three: Tonio, Fiesta and Caloy have their fates laid when the doctors call the shots: whose lives have to be spared and have to be sacrificed. One has to die, the other two have to live. Although this kind of predicament is common to some movie, Tuhog , however, keeps the audience at gun point as it tackles common Filipino, if not universal , concern.
The senile Tonio presents us the problems of a senior citizen deciding to finally follow his passion; Fiesta displays the tragedy of a dark past masked by a seemingly strong character; and Caloy portrays the shallow mire that the recent youth gets entangled into nowadays. Throughout the movie, we have a glimpse of their respective lives dabbed by the joys and sorrows of their own comedies and tragedies.
Eugene Domingo greatly portrayed her role plus the fact that she had been constantly paired with young and attractive men, it made the audience cry, "Na naman. Kahit nakatali ang buhok niya, I can see it grew few centimeters long nang halikan siya ni Jake. The movie showed Eugene's versatility; may it be drama or comedy, she could really pull the movie through.
I couldn't help but laugh at her scenes even how tear-jerking the scene was. Kimmy and Dora's faces tickled the seriousness away from me and I ended up smirking. The scene that pinched me most was when Tonio, facing his newly-cleaned bakery, was gifted by his wife with a toque and a manual for baking. His wife had been there for him even the situation defined buffoonery. Truly, love knows no boundary, even if the boundary plays along foolishness. The movie successfully impaled what the mainstream cinema fails to showcase.
Kung baga nga, natuhog talaga niya. Pacific Rim opens with a scene of less explanation and ends with less explanation. There's nothing more rewarding than a silly movie highlighted with great sounds, colorful display of effects and plenty, yes plenty, of actions. The movie starts with dutiful actions and takes its end to a final explosion. Your puny minds won't even bother an ounce of effort in thinking about anything since the plot is as flat as the robots are big.
Pacific Rim is heavy like the robots and ridiculously entertaining as the monsters are annoying.
I was twisting my neck back and forth watching the actions and the robots. Though heavy, it will lift your butts from your seats as you "drift" together with the gargantuan characters; robots, monsters and humans alike. Although the robots are as not agile as the Transformers' , it will somewhat leave your mouth agape since you can literally see the jaegers' designs detail by detail not to mention the actions that entail.
A lot of actions without a pressure to one's eyes. A total visual feast without the slightest mind exercise. At least as I see it. Imagine "drifting" with an outside force like the kaijus; that was amazing and all the while simply geeky. Earth's emancipation came from the geeks although the controls were held by the jaegermeisters. Irony seems to be playing coy with reality here.
Geeks beat the ripped bodies. Asia seems to be the seat of the world's emancipation Maybe due to the fact that monsters rose from the Pacific. And seeing the portal opened a lot of times the scene when the Gipsy Danger was teleported to the other side still gives me the creeps. Like being sucked by morbid appendages. What was that? A flower opening or a ghastly tunnel going inside a chicken intestine? It is a Guillermo del Toro, so to say.