the baser elements

As the complex process of coordinating more than fifty muscles begins, control switches from the upper brain to the brain stem, the place where our most basic drives and reflexes are stored…. Scientists call this push-pull action of the muscles the agonist and antagonist.

This is not about sex. It’s about handwriting.

Points of comparison, however, are abundant. Both start as self-conscious acts: a need to sate or be sated, a page to fill. There are physical elements that establish parameters and determine which conventions are appropriate to the context. There are emotional elements that contribute to one’s perception of the final product.

The body knows what it wants to say and will find a way to say it. Words stretch out in snaky lines across the page. They move of their own volition. The brain lags at least three letters behind; it takes that long to catch up or catch on, to any mistake.

I’ve got this great little book from 1978 called Know Yourself through your Handwriting. About my varying slant, threads, and other characteristics, it says: This is the writing of an unpredictable person with changing inclinations. It is the kind of writing often found in teenagers when they are unsettled and experimenting with all kinds of thoughts and ideas, trying to find the most acceptable way of life. It falls short of determination and stamina, but I may be a highly original thinker.

And what about that love letter I’ve been carrying around everywhere with me like the teenager I probably still am? The person with stiff angular connections is firm, strong-minded, uncompromising, tense. His sharp strokes may suggest a puritan streak, a lack of sensuality, and interests that are predominantly intellectual and spiritual. They may suggest something else.

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saturation point

Folds by Anthony Easton (I think)

It is repeatedly said that in the digital age, everything is available, and nothing is special. In terms of data, perhaps this is true. Whether it is poetry or pornography, data flows from an inexhaustible source. You can’t touch it or feel it; one little click and it is gone.

A similar kind of data can be contained in a touch or a weekend, a day. Maybe two. The connection is tenuous at first, uncertain, tremulous, and all the more exciting for it. Confidence builds quickly. Other feelings do too. They may reach a peak more than once, or not at all.

In time, the body will prove a poor database. When the object of desire is no longer at hand, assuming it ever was, it will be impossible to retrieve uncorrupted. The smell of skin, a sunlit castle, a two-colored cat, a wave moving toward you and receding to the depths.

When the point of saturation is reached, any further collection of data is superfluous, in the sense that it yields nothing new. Analysis breaks down; repetition takes its place.

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coupled physics interactions

red chair

If the known relation between the variables consists of a table of corresponding values, the graph consists only of the corresponding set of isolated points. If the variables are known to vary continuously, one often draws a curve to show the variation.
Basic College Math, 1945

Mathematically speaking, can a whole be greater than the sum of its parts? Many things are bigger than they seem, just as reading is more than just knowing the meaning of words. There are everyday complexities that require coupled physics interactions. We used to call it multitasking; now it’s parallel processing. Multiphysics. I don’t know.

Who do we have to pay to get a good post around here?

By the way, Dys was right about the Ratz (rats!).

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power tools

A witty woman is a treasure; a witty beauty is a power.
–- George Meredith
(from the cover of Vanity Fair, March 2005; the quote is written on Uma's ass)

These little aphorisms are meant to be empowering, but if you really think about them, you find yourself stripped of whatever confidence they are meant to instill. And there’s Uma, on this and every cover. Smirking. Supremely self-assured. She doesn’t have to be witty to be treasured, and she doesn’t have to be witty to be powerful; her beauty is enough. Personally, I don’t think it’s such a rarity for a woman to be both clever and attractive. Another article, in a different magazine, says there are three possibilities: women can be attractive and stupid (good for sex), unattractive and stupid (still good for sex), and hostile, shrewish, and smart (wives).

Perhaps the real rarity is the man who sees a power in every woman, or in every person, for that matter.

Old-school ideas persist. Equality in theory is not exactly equality in practice. I read recently that male brains are 4 percent faster than female brains. Is this an example of an inherent difference, of which I’m sure there are many, or were the girls taught that it’s not ladylike to rush?

The platitude is that hope lies in the younger generations. In Crete, it’s hard for kids learning English to master the difference in pronunciation between he and she; in writing, it’s less of a problem, unless there’s a sentence about a doctor, for example. I find it amazing that the doctor will almost always be rendered as “he” even if the sentence clearly states “she.” The students are also surprised when I point out their mistake, but they see it as a matter of carelessness, whereas I see it as something more ingrained.

I know exactly one male driver who is more understanding, not less, when he sees that the person driving a car that happens to be doing something questionable is a woman. There must be lots of witty and beautiful people out there, male and female. They’ve all got some power. Just look at us: we power blogger.

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secret love affairs

A(nother) postcard from PostSecret, a site which our abiding readers will recognize as no stranger to this blog.


Psychologists concluded that secret love affairs are often unsatisfactory.

The above is one of the many interesting “findings” in this month’s Harper’s (they never put the good stuff online). Perhaps I find it all the more interesting for its simplicity and straightforwardness, not to mention its tautologous nature. But I wonder. Is this really a finding, in the sense that something new has been discovered? Can it be validated scientifically, or does empirical evidence suffice? I would like to know whether quantitative or qualitative methods were used. The magazine does not elaborate.

Empirical evidence is certainly abundant. I’m sure we all have plenty -- starting with that first crush, that first kiss, the one you kept secret from your friends as long as you could, and then they blabbed and told the whole school. Was it at that point that the dissatisfaction crept in? Or is secrecy itself a source of displeasure? It’s human nature to flaunt. We strive to be conspicuous. The attention of only one other person keeps us satisfied for only so long.

A secret love affair may awaken feelings that lead to another (secret love affair). There may be trysts in hotels, memories that lose their edge, half-lies, escapades, a cryptic post in your blog. Gifts may be exchanged, but they too must remain out of sight. It’s so exciting to keep a secret, to be involved in one. Have I said too much?

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Between Breathtaking and Obscene

veil, newyorkistan by Abdul-Walid of Acerbia

Dystropoppygus (the person) announces he will be on fraternity leave of unspecified duration, effective 10:30am today (GMT+2). Honourable patrons are kindly advised to take their guest-blogging requests with Sissoula or De(e)lumina.

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Small fragments of (un)reality

Gustav Klimt, The Virgin, image reproduced from http://www.mindfirerenew.com/issue1/klimt_die_jungfrau.jpeg


Knock on the door. Softly.No answer; he must be away or perhaps hard at work, devouring some article or other, a brilliant thought.
Second knock. Nothing. But the light is on.
Maybe it’s time for surprises – nothing more certain than surprises, right siss? – the doorknob turns and he’s in there alright.
But so is she, looking over his shoulder, hands round his neck, softly yet possessively, like a snake luring its prey.
Perhaps not a good surprise.

Haagen Dazs in hand, five million calories of joy on a stick, she enters screen 2.
The perfect end to the day, a film without meaning, offering illusion quite generously, clearly unashamedly.
The tall couple sits infront of her, he making himself comfortable, she trying to juggle the coats, the popcorn, the soda.
“Would you mind helping me pull the seat down?”, she asks and smiles half angrily, half teasingly.
They watch the adverts, they laugh through the previews.
Almost half way through she feels compelled to watch them: he touches her nose, she bites her lip, they hastily smile to one another as celluloid goes on.
Little moments of intimacy shared with the audience that is there and watching.

Earlier on another knock was heard, on her door this time.
She said ‘hello’ in her usual manner – part casual, part bothered, part cheeky, with the emphasis on the elongated ‘ow’.
And it was him, after all this time, big smiles and eyes bright for meeting again.
The news, the absence, the holidays, the work stuff, her shiny new trainers, prized objects of the desire for coolness gleaming in the background. He noticed.
And that beautiful set of blue eyes,
that unmistakable laugh,
the bright mess of straw-like golden hair of his daughter, following him,
remindful of where we stand…

It’s late.
I blame vague tourist for opening up this can of worms called love, even if it’s spring that has set it on fire.
Sissoula asked me to write something straightforward: if ever I could.
You see, dystrop, sometimes it’s not just about sex…

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the indissoluble sacrament

Alternative Title: Death and Revenue Enhancement



“The idea that things must have a beginning is really due to the poverty of our imagination,” said Bertrand Russell in an article I was inspired to read after the death of the pope, an event which I found unexpectedly moving -- not that my emotions are to be particularly trusted these days. Most people identify with one religion or another as a coincidence of geography, and coincidence in general seems a much more likely explanation for it all than wise or divine planning. Isn’t it possible that some things have just always been there?

It is certainly a consolation to think that in the end, there will be God. He will right all wrongs when the right go up and the wrong go down. But if our world is a reflection of his, we should assume that justice doesn’t rule his world any more than it does ours.

In this world, Ben Franklin said, nothing is certain but death and taxes. Maybe he knew it all 300 years ago, but times have changed. Nowadays, there’s also credit card debt (thanks, Dubya, for the financial advice), a hole in the ozone that will never close, war, disease, McDonald’s, The Young and the Restless, the cat of mass destruction, and a kamaki at the bus stop at Café Da Luz. There is a meme that just won’t die, and even our blog needs a terror alert.

Disappointment is also a certainty.

But so are surprises. The truth is (possibly) the most important thing. Our idea of reality should be consistent with it. Lord have mercy.

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Gagarin's Anniversary

Гагарин Юрий Алексеевич-09.03.1934 ,Рыба,1,Новоселово
деревня, Киржачского района,
Владимирской области,СССР,Россия,Проcто суперзвезда,12.
04.1961 г.,первый в мире полет в космос ,космический корабль
"Восток", 1 час 08 минут,Гражданин Союза Советских
Социалистических Республик,Великое событие,Впервые в истории
человек осуществил полет в космос,Первый человек,Проникший в
космос,Беспримерная победа человека над силами
природы, Величайшее завоевание науки и техники, Торжество
человеческого разума,Пионер освоения
космоса,Летчик-космонавт СССР,Прогресс всего
человечества,Орден Ленина ,Золотая Звезда,Бронзовый бюст
,День космонавтики ,Образпервопроходца космоса, настоящий
русский парень, Честный и добросовестный, открытый и
жизнерадостный, смелый и талантливый, дороживший своим
добрым именем и очень любившим людей,Волнующая
новость,Историческое задание Родины,Первозданная
ценность,анналы
истории земной цивилизации ,Причастие к звездам ,Член
партии, майор ,голова большая,
короткий ежик волос, торчащие уши ,Колумб
Космоса, Сын Земли, Гражданин Вселенной,Герой нашего
времени,Образ
суперчеловека,Семь чудес XX века,В одночасье оказался
майором ,Первый гражданин Мира,Парень такой веселый,
Общительный, Коммуникабельный ,
Веселый нрав, Доброе сердце,
Трудолюбие, Целеустремленность, Цельность характера,
Готовность во всем помочь своим товарищам,Природноемужество,
Аналитический ум, Исключительное трудолюбие,Космическая
трасса Вселенной ,Чистый образ ,Верная веха, Идеализация
человека,Масштабная цель,Поиск
конструкторов и ученых, Доказательства "наверху" ,Органичный
патриот,Юмор, Незаносчивость, Доброта ,Старание помочь
людям,Пролетарское происхождение ,Лобастенький,Главный в
Центре,Обаятельность, Очень близкий каждому из нас человек,
Миф и легенда, Посол достижений ,Ура! Космос взят!, Ура!
Гагарину!,
Великий Пионера космоса,Путь к звездам,Человеческоий гений,
Сила Вселенной ,Герой всего человечества,Он смущался, Он
очаровательный, Второй полет,
Выдержка,Подтянутый, Удивительно спокойный,Космическая
ложь,Римский бог,Одиночество в звуконепроницаемой
камере,Весело сказать "Поехали",Великий
человек XX века,Подвиг Гагарина бесконечен, человек
потрясающей решимости, Позвал
нас в Космос,Землянин, Покоривший космос, Манера, Ум ,Такт,
Идеологические враги, Живое
достояние страны, 1м 66 см ,Кем-то заменить?,Символом
мужества, Мерило подвига,Добрая улыбка, Молодой и Задорный
парень,Фуражка , Служить Служить,Нужен ты людям, всем нам
очень нужен,...
Золотая медаль им. К. Э. Циолковского
АН СССР, медаль де Лаво (ФАИ), золотые медали и почётные
дипломы международной ассоциации (ЛИУС) Человек в космосе
и Итальянской ассоциации космонавтики, золотая медаль За
выдающееся отличие и почётный диплом Королевского аэроклуба
Швеции, Большая золотая медаль и диплом ФАИ, золотая медаль
Британского общества межпланетных сообщений, премия Галабера
по астронавтике, Почётный член Международной академии
астронавтики. Орденом
Ленина и медалями СССР, Ордена многих стран мир ,Герой
Социалистического Труда ЧССР,
Герой НРБ, Герой Труда СРВ,история человечества, Золотая
буква, Летопись крупнейших завоеваний, Сила природы,
Символом могущества человеческого разума,
мужества и новаторства, Неизведанный путь, Простор
Вселенной,
Дерзновенный подвиг, Эра покорения космоса,Беззаветное
мужество, Исключительное
трудолюбие, Упорство в достижении поставленной
цели,Стремлением к знаниям,Символ творческого гения и отваги
Человека ,Прославленный покоритель космоса ,Желанный гость,
Человек большого обаяния и скромности, Исключительная
смелость, Находчивость,Пример мужества и отваги, Пламенный
патриотизм, Верность, Постоянная готовность к
подвигу во славу Родины,Талантливый и мужественный
летчик,Европа, Америка, Азия, Африка, Всюду,Потому, что он
был первым!

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Meme 451

Sadie's "stuck" me with this meme and I must admit I half-expected this one. Or half-wished, whichever sounds frank-ier. So, here it goes.

You’re stuck inside Fahrenheit 451, which book do you want to be?
Never managed to memorize anything in my life, not verbatim anyway. This incompetence of mine is actually responsible for my not becoming a great actor, like I should have. Not all directors would want my version of the scenario. But if I absolutely, positively had to be a book, I'd choose one where my interpretation would do as little harm as possible: The Complete Grimm's Fairy Tales.

Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?
Indeed I had. Only, nobody knows about it. Or knew, rather, until this moment. I am sorry most nobody will know about his heroine, it was a rather nice novella by a little-known Greek writer named Antonis Vousvounis and I was only 13 at the time. Or perhaps 14. (I'd told ya it's all about sex - I was learning.)

The last book you bought:
The two faces of January, by Patricia Highsmith. Didn't know it was of "greek interest" when I went for it. It now patiently awaits for it's turn, sometime around Orthodox Easter break (which occurs on May 1st this year).

The last book you read:
Il ladro di merendine, by Andrea Camilleri. It's an Inspector Montalbano Mystery, published in English as The Snack Thief.

What are you currently reading?
The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana, by Umberto Eco [I've got to thank Rakasha for pointing me to this exquisite book!]
Cien Botellas En Una Pared, by Ena Lucia Portela.
The Seeds of Time, by John Wyndham.

Five books you would take to a deserted island:
This one is a tough question. But I am a tough reader. Here are my all-time favourites, and then some.
The Master and Margarita, by Mikhail Bulgakov
Zazie in the Metro, by Raymond Queneau
The Aleph and Other Stories, by Jorge Luis Borges
The Glass Bead Game, by Hermann Hesse (I'll manage to finish this one in a deserted island, won't I?)
The Three Musketeers, by Alexandre Dumas (where this bookmania of mine originally comes from)

Who are you going to pass this to (3 persons)? And Why?
I'd love to see Jinx and Karina and Grace answer this. I really like their very individual blogging styles and think they're all very bright etc -- this would give me some additional insight. So, do it girls and I'll surely link to your replies!

Come to think of it, I am sure all my blog partners would die to answer this kind of meme. I invite them to do so too (them being partners, these three passes don't really count, right?). Anybody else is most welcome to comment. Oh, for you greek-reading ones out there, don't forget I'm giving away books for Easter!

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A royal affair

So… it’s happening! Two of the world’s most well known ‘middle aged people are getting hitched’. An affair that has lasted more than 30 years and has given rise to enormous, almost unprecedented controversy, will soon end up in marriage – seemingly with Mother’s approval. The Prince of Wales and the (now) Duchess of Cornwall will soon gallop towards the sunset. Aww!

Charles is not exactly popular amongst the public, although this is probably entirely predictable given the fact that he was married to Diana: The Madonna-whore syndrome, affairs, tears, eating disorders, children, miles upon miles of Chanel couture and a tragic accident(?) make up for a wholly inauspicious end to the affair. And then, there is Camilla, most commonly known as ‘the ugly horse’ – although I have it on very good authority that she is, in actual fact, rather delightful, fairly attractive and with a wonderfully dry sense of humour.

You cannot be in the UK, or anywhere else in the world for that matter, without listening to something or someone talking about the wedding. And me, well, what do I think?
I’ve never been a fan of the Royal family, I’ve never been a fan of royalty full stop. As for the not-so-rosy-cheeked couple, I do share the popular sentiment of mild discomfort, but mostly for reasons relating to my inherent dislike of the concept and reality of monarchy.

But I’ll give you that: Charles eats organic and talks to his plants – that is bound to be a good thing, at least in my book! He ignores the calling of what he ‘should be’ like and I, for once, respect that.
And, at the end of the day, for two people who have been through so much together and for so long, including (very) public humiliation and disapproval, and who still manage to stay together and want to get married, well… I guess one cannot but say ‘good luck to them!’

Love conquers all? Maybe.
I, too, choose to remain (perhaps a helpless) romantic…

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Dionigi Tettamanzi, Joseph Ratzinger

“The American Catholics contribute more money to church efforts than followers from all other nations combined... It is important to be sensitive to their desires. How can we have any commandments if there is no church? If we have to look the other way on one to spare the other nine it is a wise move”.
-- Cardinal Peligrini, Vatican spokesman

Just as I was about to finish my eleventh espresso cup in a sudden gulp, God knocked on my soul's doors. The Pope's death was announced by the ultimate authority. An orchestra of angels provided background music while a cherubins' choir chanted psalms, slowly fading out. I swallowed what little coffee was left. Nominally a Christian, I knew there were matters to be taken care of. The Sadness of the masses. The Mass of sadness. Finally, a new Pope. Ombra mai fu.
Embalming. Dues. Respect. Memory. Posterity. "A well-prepared body -- like that of Johannes XXIII -- can last 20 to 30 years or even more. But without it, bodies cannot remain on display for long. Pope Paul VI, who died in 1978, was only lightly embalmed by the Signorracci family. After just two days his skin and fingernails began losing color.

What will happen to Pope John Paul II's body is not yet entirely clear. The Vatican refused to elaborate on how exactly the body had been prepared. He will be buried on Friday in the vacant tomb of Pope John XXIII, who was moved to the main floor of St. Peter's Basilica in 2001 following his beatification."

Crisis Management. Evaluation. Glory. Issues. Politics. Posterity. "Hans Küng is one of today's leading Catholic theologians. Küng, a Swiss national living in the southern German city of Tübingen, has been embroiled in an ongoing feud with church authorities for decades. As a result of his critical inquiries on the papacy, the Vatican withdrew his church authority to teach in 1979. Nevertheless, Küng, 75, is still a priest and, until his retirement in 1995, taught ecumenical theology at the University of Tübingen. As president of the Global Ethic Foundation, Küng is also an advisor to the United Nations." [But the masses, the masses... How does one avoid the decor and stick to the essence? Here, here, here and here... Totus Tuus ego sum.]

Succession. Intrigue. Factions. Politics. Power. "Yesterday a group of priests that served in the seminary with then Brother Ciani outside of Turin, Italy in the 1960’s came forward with allegations as to why he is unfit to become the next leader of the Catholic Church. The allegations include that he reneged on his vow of celibacy, as he was allegedly observed soliciting a street wader in Venice stating "I put the "lick" in "Catholic". It also was alleged that he performed services wearing nothing but a Speedo under his robe. He also bears "false stigmata" that are allegedly self-inflicted." (via the The New World Odor.)

I have a flight to catch. Tempus fugit.

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call in the reinforcements

Pen and Ink drawing from The Smithsonian Institution

I’ve got this one more thing to share from the seminar, and then we can get back to the sexy stuff (don’t worry, I have it on good authority that the one and only Dys will be back soon). I know some of our readers don’t have much patience for metaphors, so I’ll just say that this poem has a lot to do with the issue of positive vs. negative reinforcement I was getting at in the previous post. And before you judge its literary merit, take a look at who wrote it. It’s called, "The Soldier."

A poem written suddenly
Outpouring on paper
Scribbled down hurriedly
While thoughts are hot still
Becomes a soldier, defiant, free
To fight my war, to fight for me.

An onslaught of words, defending me,
Goes forth like a brave trooper
From his home. And now,
Without author, stands alone.

But it returns, red marks like wounds
Slashing the innocent lines,
The struggle over.
The wounds are deep. They reach
To scar my soul which cries out:
“Understand!” The feeling, not the grammar,
Should be read! Now the soldier is dead.
The poem that he was lies crumpled
In a corner, the effort made in vain.

The enemy has won.

Rencle Farwell, grade 6 (from this book)

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two stars and a wish

It seems that I think too slow and talk too fast. This is surely not a good combination, especially when it comes to first impressions. But I wasn’t the only participant at the seminar to be criticized. The instructor’s metaphor for constructive criticism was “two stars and a wish,” meaning that students should always be praised for two things, but also firmly reminded of what could have been better. I admit being shaken by the wish, but it also brought me closer to Maria (the fourth wonderfully interesting person I met at or near this event), who found her own wish as well a little harsh.

There is always a girl named Maria. She’s usually dark-haired and light-hearted. She lurks near doors, windows, and other liminal spaces that separate one world from another. Maybe you’re in Mexico or Russia or Greece. There will be a girl named Maria. She will insinuate herself into your thoughts, give you reasons to believe and something to believe in; she’ll make you want to be a better friend, just to be close to her.

I’ve had this idea for quite some time, but the seminar -- along with this great link (recently posted by Niko, to whom I am grateful and devoted) to an amazing poem that couldn’t be about anybody but a Maria -- provided the occasion to try to put it all into one (semi)coherent post.

Pensive Maria
removed her stockings

From her body came
voices of others
of a soldier who spoke like a bird
of a sick person who’d died of sheep’s pains
and the cries of Maria’s baby niece
that had been born those very days

Maria wept wept
now Maria laughed
she spread her arms at night
remained with her legs apart

Then her eyes darkened
black black blurry they darkened

The radio played
Maria wept
Maria wept
the radio played

Then Maria
slowly opened her arms
she began to fly
around the room

-- Miltos Sachtouris

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use your (very small) noodle

I spent some of Saturday in a hotel room in Athens, watching the Pope die on TV. A few mohitos later, something inside me started to die, to die down, anyway. More than one noodle was involved.

I once read that the world’s most beautiful people (based on some innate, biologically determined standards of appearing healthy, symmetrical, and somehow suitable for procreation) are Thai women and Cretan men. The restaurant was supposed to be Thai (but the staff wasn’t) and I tried not to think about Cretan men, one in particular. I thought a lot about beauty, and not just the kind you look at.

I was in Athens again for a seminar this time, and I met four interesting people, three of whom were men. The first (not necessarily in chronological order) told me a story about a man who escapes the monotony of his everyday life by spending one great weekend in some exotic, dangerously inspiring location, only to find himself back in the same dull routine at the adventure’s end. If the outcome of this life-changing experience was that his life hadn’t really changed at all, was it worth it?

Some fires are hard to start and hard to snuff.

The second was a young man, an unassuming type, who turned out to be disarmingly charming in an understated, self-deprecating kind of way that I found extremely winning. He asked me some great questions, none of which I managed to answer to my own satisfaction or probably his. I have realized that there aren't too many chances in life to meet people you find really interesting, and if it happens, you shouldn’t let them slip away. So I invited this person to the blog, and I’m hoping he’ll put in an appearance soon. If he does, ask him who killed JFK. (It was not the dog, after all.)

The third was Marcello. Is the name not enough? He befriended me when the lights went out… and we had to change trains.

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Life and other pursuits

Sometimes life gets in the way…

We’ve just had kittens! Four of them. Mother and babies are doing fine and their extended pink family with can openers (that’s us) is very pleased to have them.
You know, my excuse for failing to do just about anything is usually werk, but this time I’m happy to say it’s life.
And time well spent – including having kittens, but not creating their own webpage. (Well, not yet, anyway!)

But going back to the concept of time, which was also very interestingly discussed both by Sis and Dystro in recent posts, I have two questions for you all.
Granted, they are not exactly newly sprung (in my mind at least), but I have been thinking about them a lot recently:

Is timing of the essence, i.e. is there such a thing as ‘the right time’ for everything (or some things) or do you think that where there is a will there is a way? (There! I’ve said it); and
Can you ever waste time?

No word limit. Discuss :-)

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what any fool can see (sonnet 137)

In the Shadows, oil on panel, by Craig C. Grabhorn

Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes,
That they behold, and see not what they see?
They know what beauty is, see where it lies,
Yet what the best is take the worst to be.
If eyes corrupt by over-partial looks
Be anchor'd in the bay where all men ride,
Why of eyes' falsehood hast thou forged hooks,
Whereto the judgment of my heart is tied?
Why should my heart think that a several plot
Which my heart knows the wide world's common place?
Or mine eyes seeing this, say this is not,
To put fair truth upon so foul a face?
In things right true my heart and eyes have erred,
And to this false plague are they now transferr'd.

Rabbit rabbit (as my mother would say). Καλό μήνα.
Play the fool, but watch your backs.

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