Game time, as we trade resources
Game night with Nathan and Dani playing Settlers of Catan. Much fun!
Posted via email from in.sight
The personal mini-blog of Dr Philippe K Fenderson, KSC, ASL; designer and member of the PinkOnBrown collective.
You can also find my poetry, prose, and assorted writings here and my digital artwork and portfolio on Artician.
You can also find my poetry, prose, and assorted writings here and my digital artwork and portfolio on Artician.
July 6, 2009
3:24 am
July 3, 2009
10:49 am
IAO Pan! IAO Baphomet!
Taken at NW 6th and Salmon in Portland.
Posted via email from in.sight
June 29, 2009
9:54 pm
This is what happens
See? This is what happens when baristas have to work for too long…
Posted via email from in.sight
June 26, 2009
8:33 pm
We are the weavers that work the loom; weave the cloth of our vision - our universe.
Nothing is transience.
All that is, is a myriad of universes. A compendium of short-stories or of epics.
Everything is transience.
We are the authors of this clustering, and the mirrors reflect us and write the story in which we are only background characters.
Nothing is transience.
And in all of this, the moment is an infinity. Entropy, twisting around; the Oroborus connecting end to beginning so that all is nothing but this single, infantisimal moment.
Everything is transience.
The grains of sand are everlasting, ever-shifting light…the living of all is timeless.
Nothing is transience.
We have lived every breath already. We have died and come out again. We are. We all.
Everything is transience.
Everything is transience.
Everything is transience.We are the weavers that work the loom; weave the cloth of our vision - our universe.
Nothing is transience.
All that is, is a myriad of universes. A compendium of short-stories or of epics.
Everything is transience.
We are the authors of this clustering, and the mirrors reflect us and write the story in which we are only background characters.
Nothing is transience.
And in all of this, the moment is an infinity. Entropy, twisting around; the Oroborus connecting end to beginning so that all is nothing but this single, infantisimal moment.
Everything is transience.
The grains of sand are everlasting, ever-shifting light…the living of all is timeless.
Nothing is transience.
We have lived every breath already. We have died and come out again. We are. We all.
Everything is transience.
Posted via email from in.sight
