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[Dec. 19th, 2009|01:52 am]
Those who feel me near
Pull the blinds and change their minds
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[Dec. 15th, 2009|10:53 am]
I'm having a smart attack
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[Dec. 9th, 2009|12:26 am]
Taisu savu pinhole camera.
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[Dec. 9th, 2009|12:24 am]
Radioactivity
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[Nov. 28th, 2009|04:50 pm]


Kursa darbs par šiem radījumiem.
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[Nov. 28th, 2009|03:08 am]
Flowers Never Bend With the Rainfall
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[Nov. 25th, 2009|02:10 pm]
Run of the Mill
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[Nov. 18th, 2009|11:57 pm]
it looks like a pretty clear night if you want to do a bon fire out on the east bay sand bar.</span>
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[Nov. 18th, 2009|02:39 pm]
I wish you could exist to live on my planet
How does it make you feel?
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[Nov. 16th, 2009|04:56 pm]

A study of economics as if people mattered.
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[Nov. 15th, 2009|05:24 pm]
International Space Station comes together
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[Nov. 15th, 2009|04:40 pm]
A Winter Book is a collection of short stories by Tove Jansson, divided into three parts — snow, flotsam and jetsam, travelling light.

She lived much of her life in the archipelago and later on a small island in Finland. It shows.



As smooth and odd and beautiful as sea-worn driftwood, as full of light and air as the Nordic summer.
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[Nov. 15th, 2009|02:06 pm]
[Tags|]

a glorious old lighthouse stood testament to a time of brave sailors and frequent shipwrecks. This lighthouse originally contained a Fresnel lens, a conglomeration of hand carved prisms set in brass to form an enormous gleaming gem capable of magnifying a lit gas lamp into a powerful beacon. Slowly revolving overhead the current lens was more ordinary, carved glass with an electric light, but still it sparkled warmly against the misty gray sky. **
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[Nov. 15th, 2009|01:40 pm]


summer is another country
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[Nov. 15th, 2009|12:17 pm]
the art of living

the land was here before us and the land remains

traveling light, just passing though, always further on

there IS life before death

live before you die
are you alive.... are you alive?... echoes
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[Nov. 14th, 2009|11:47 pm]
overflowing need to celebrate how awesome the world is !!!!
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[Nov. 9th, 2009|04:37 pm]
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[Nov. 8th, 2009|09:13 pm]
Klusi dzīvoju, sakārtoju beidzot dzīvojamo platību, atvēru logus, izvēdināju istabu, sabužināju spilvenus, sakārtoju galda virsmu, atpiķņerēju vadu mučkuļus, sagaidīju vakaru, ieslēdzu dzeltenās, vājās gaismas, uztaisīju kumelīšu tēju, radīju siltumu, klausījos siltumu, sajutu siltumu, centīšos saglabāt šo siltumu, atjaunot, kad nāksies. Klusi, silti dzīvoju savā valstībā. Es tagad jums labprāt smaidītu pretī. Sēžu pie galda, klausos Simon & Garfunkel, kas pieskan viegli pa manu istabu, mācos, nedomāju par smagumiem un grūtumiem, vieglītēm vēlos, apzināti, sakārtoti un silti. Tā kā, kad pie kamīna. Tā kā, kad koka mājiņā ar tējas krūzi rokā, biezos, kodīgos vilnas džemperos, kad ārā aukstas ziemas dienas, bet iekšā pieticīga omulība tvīkst. Neviens cits te nav. Es viena savu siltumu sargāju. Ja kāds ietu garām es pa logu pasmaidītu, ja tiem būtu auksti, es aicinātu iekšā. Bet mans dzīvoklis ir augstu no zemes, pa kuru cilvēki staigā. Bet tas viss, tas, lai nu paliek. Man taču beidzot ir mierīgāks prāts, siltāk ap sirdi, maigāk domās, vieglāk sperot soli. Es tik ilgi gaidīju, kad saņemšos šo siltumu sev radīt. Te nu tas ir klāt, klauvē, nāk pa durvīm iekšā, apņem katru lietu, ieritinās katrā kaktā, paņem mani air rokas, sveiks, turēsimies kopā.
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/Lord Byron/ [Nov. 8th, 2009|05:35 pm]
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods
There is a rapture on the lonely shore
There is society, where none intrudes
By the deep sea, and music in its roar
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[Nov. 5th, 2009|02:21 pm]
you see, astronomy is a humbling undertaking, you have this tiny tiny brain to think about the vastness of space
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