Pages

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

FAKE FLOWERS

FAKE FLOWERS AND CREAMY WHITE PITCHER

Thursday, March 18, 2010

ANGEL MORNING GLORY STORY

It is time to move on, post something, say something... Please go to "Cabbage....Universe" to see a new picture taken this afternoon -- it is white angel morning glory. I woke up in the afternoon, and my face was tingling on the left side, below my nose. What does it mean?

Sunday, March 14, 2010

GREEN PEPPERS FRIED BY ALIENS

Sometimes, when I am cooking, I notice how
Awesomely strange the scenes from the
kitchen are. For example:
The playful figures of steam undulating over
the uncovered French press filled with brewing
coffee, or ascending from the pot of boiling green peas.
In this clip the Alien sounding music is produced by the
Iron Pan, Peanut Oil, and the awesome Green Pepper slices.

Friday, March 12, 2010

GREEN TOMATO

I am not going to fry this one. It's going to stay
on the vine for a long, long time.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Rosa Relaxing on Sunday with Rosa Junior

Lazy Sunday afternoon...Rosa Relaxing with Rosa Junior.

Saturday, March 6, 2010

Roses

I don't really want to talk about roses.
I like movies, or films. I think that without cinematic art,
 life would be more difficult to bear.
"The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus"
 was pretty good tonight!
"Rose Saturday."

PARK

finally i have some free time to chat. i had a very unbusy day, which is usual for me. i think i was born to be uninvolved in much of what's going on. people don't really notice me. today the park ranger drove by me saying nothing, and when i wanted to leave the park in my car, the gate was closed. i should've driven through the bridge to the other side of the park where the main gate stays open late. instead, i walked over the bridge
and complained to the ranger that he didn't warn me about closing the gate.  he said:  "I didn't see you;  were you in this park?"                                 

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

The Great Storyteller by the Name Antonina

Where are the stories that were meant to be told to me.
How to deal with the loss of the untold truth?
You have to be willing to reveal something that no one
knows. And that seems simple. To tell the untold in a
way that it doesn't matter what it is, because it is told
in a wonderful way -- that is the answer to the question.
This is a picture of my grandma Antonina, who was a great storyteller.