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The Youth Sangha came back better than ever! Nine bhaktis, eight days, lots of kirtan, a group art project and some uncontrollable laughter made up this year's Summer Sangha. Take a look at some of the highlights below!
bhaktimarga.org
The Youth Sangha came back better than ever! Nine bhaktis, eight days, lots of kirtan, a group art project and some uncontrollable laughter made up this year's Summer Sangha. Take a look at some of the highlights below!
bhaktimarga.org
Giggling uncontrollably for a few minutes prior to "Catalyst."
The culprit: after Anna had mentioned her website and Facebook presence, I rubbed in her Twitter as well. Specifically, I recited her December 17th, 2010 tweet.
"Dear gorgeous aspiring actress who cut me off on the frwy,f#ck you from the Breathe Girl.And if you don't know who that is,f#ck you double!"
She eventually deflected the blame on to guitarist Luis Maldonado, saying that whenever she looks into his eyes on stage, she is reminded of all the pleasant AND unmentionable things that had happened over the years, as he had performed with her for seven years, so she must look away or end up giggling. But if anyone needs blaming for this "delay" it's yours truly.
Confessions Installations
With his installations, Arik confesses, bares his soul and invites us to do the same. His starting point is the observation that most Parisian couples end up divorcing and that building a life as a couple is an extremely fragile enterprise. Failure to communicate well is often at the root of this problem. Taboos and unspoken truths eat away at a couple’s harmonious existence. Confessions allow this trust to be rebuilt. Driven by an “uncontrollable muscle”, Arik Levy surfs a tsunami of ideas, that swallows up every preconceived notion in its path. He offers us a new perspective on our environment and the issues of intimacy; through this quest, devoid of safeguards, he raises the essential problem of our truth.
Slott | Exquise design
12 rue du Château Landon 75010 Paris
M° Château Landon-Gare de lʼEst-Louis Blanc
Love,
Exquise crew
Slott | Exquise design
12 rue du Château Landon 75010 Paris
M° Château Landon-Gare de lʼEst-Louis Blanc
flickr.com/photos/exquisedesign
coroflot.com/exquisedesign
©Florian Kleinefenn
Exhibition “Preliminaries”: design at the threshold of love.
As an extension of a project on the theme of love, Slott gallery
and Exquise Design® have invited four designers to play out
their fantasies, giving shape and meaning, breathing life into their
conceptions of preliminaries. They have approached this subject
from different and complementary viewpoints that together offer
a panorama of creation like no other seen before.
Arik Levy unveils his work on the spoken and the unspoken of
intimate relations with his series of installations entitled “Confessions”
that includes, among other elements, an examination of
the iconography of sexuality alongside a kind of modern home
confessional. As the theme of the exhibition required that contributions
be solicited from both male and female designers in equal
measure, it is fascinating to observe the ways in which, by sharing
their visions, they complete and engage each other.
matali crasset and Florence Jaffrain carry us away to underwater paradises
with their respective works “Aequorea” and “Belly Love”, creating
soft and sensual shapes that run up against Mathieu Lehanneur’s
torrid yet petrified flames in his “The Power of Love”.
Visitors will also be struck by the singular visions of the four
designers, each of which offers a completely different approach
to objects. With his Confessions, Arik Levy makes the object a
tool for communication, standing in for the fears and concerns
we often find it so difficult to voice. Straddling the boundaries of
design and architecture, matali crasset approaches the object
as a space. Mathieu Lehanneur, working from a more sculptural
perspective, raises the object to the heights of allegory (of the
couple), at the same time endowing it with a mediating role.
Last but not least, Florence Jaffrain tends to make the object an end
in itself, by creating a sofa that might almost be perceived as
playing the role of the lover, becoming an object of desire.
Equise Design | Design Loft
The Youth Sangha came back better than ever! Nine bhaktis, eight days, lots of kirtan, a group art project and some uncontrollable laughter made up this year's Summer Sangha. Take a look at some of the highlights below!
bhaktimarga.org
The Youth Sangha came back better than ever! Nine bhaktis, eight days, lots of kirtan, a group art project and some uncontrollable laughter made up this year's Summer Sangha. Take a look at some of the highlights below!
bhaktimarga.org
which turns out nice photos, sometimes. but in this one my hand looks beyond awkward and my fringe is... well, bonkers.
and i am giggling uncontrollably, for some reason.
Dr. Stephen Strange was a world-renowed neurosurgeon, but one interested in only money. A car crash caused him to shake uncontrollably, which meant he could no longer practice. Desperate, he uses all of his money to find a Tibetan monk only known as the "Ancient One" to cure him. Much to Strange's surprise, the Ancient One is a bit more than a monk--he's a sorceror. During his time at the monastery, Strange has a change of heart and becomes a more selfless man, and in return, the Ancient One teaches him magic. To help defend his home town of New York City, Strange returns from Tibet and establishes the Sanctum Sanctorum, and joins the ranks of New York superheroes. Eventually, he takes the title of Sorceror Supreme, as the most powerful magic-user of his universe.
Dr. Strange was the creation of one of Marvel Comics' first and most influential artists, Steve Ditko. Marvel was preparing to launch a new title called Strange Tales in 1963, and as the new character was to be the centerpiece of that title, Ditko named him Dr. Strange. Drawn by Ditko and written by Stan Lee, Strange Tales became an instant hit for Marvel--it came just as the Counterculture Era began, and Strange's adventures in alternate universes and astral planes appealed to college students looking for something new and psychedelic in comics. Fans wrote to Marvel, asking for the deeper meaning in some of Strange's artifacts and spells, like the Eye of Agamotto or the Book of the Vishanti...only for Lee to admit that he had just made them up off the top of his head (though Lee did do research into ancient mythology to give Strange some basis in reality).
Though now closing on 60 years of existence, Dr. Strange's appearance and outfit has actually undergone little change over the years--quite something for such a long-lived comic character. His popularity has been consistent if not spectacular, though that may change with the success of 2016's "Dr. Strange" and 2018's "Infinity War" movies, with Benedict Cumberbatch in the role.
With the huge success of Strange in the MCU, naturally he's getting more cosplay these days. This cosplayer was at Anime Central 2018, dressed as Strange from the movies. It's a great costume to begin with, and includes not only the Eye of Agamotto and Strange's white-streaked hairstyle, but also a light-up spellcasting effect! There were a lot of people getting Strange's picture, and I was happy to get this one.
~ unknown ~
- Godt Nytt År
- Happy New Year
- نايا سال مبارک هو
- Feliz año nuevo
- سنة سعيدة
- sretna nova godina
- Yeni yılınız kutlu olsun
- Срећна Нова Година
- سال نو مبارک
- felice anno nuovo
- नये साल की हार्दिक शुभकामनायें
- Ευτυχισμένο το Νέο Έτος
- gutes neues Jahr
- Bonne Année
- onnellista uutta vuotta
- Gelukkig Nieuwjaar
- 聖誕快樂 新年快樂
Disturbing appearances
Crippling depression
Triggering thoughts
Uncontrollable selfharm
They give me numbing shots to prepare me for the shocktherapy treatment
I've never felt such an overwelming fear. My mind is blurred, i cant even speak, my body is shivering, my sweat is cold and my blood is freezing. I know I wont make it this time. My heart is too weak. There is no heartbeat left anymore...
The Youth Sangha came back better than ever! Nine bhaktis, eight days, lots of kirtan, a group art project and some uncontrollable laughter made up this year's Summer Sangha. Take a look at some of the highlights below!
bhaktimarga.org
The Youth Sangha came back better than ever! Nine bhaktis, eight days, lots of kirtan, a group art project and some uncontrollable laughter made up this year's Summer Sangha. Take a look at some of the highlights below!
bhaktimarga.org
The Youth Sangha came back better than ever! Nine bhaktis, eight days, lots of kirtan, a group art project and some uncontrollable laughter made up this year's Summer Sangha. Take a look at some of the highlights below!
bhaktimarga.org
The Youth Sangha came back better than ever! Nine bhaktis, eight days, lots of kirtan, a group art project and some uncontrollable laughter made up this year's Summer Sangha. Take a look at some of the highlights below!
bhaktimarga.org
Bags Bunny - creation of NibblahFrog & CelticRanger
A demented stuffed animal monster, Bags is essentially a giant puffy sack made entirely of a spandex and plush. Playful and energetic, Bags lives to share her bouncy outlook on life, and will try to play with anyone she meets, even if they don't want it. If they aren't fun enough for her, she will use her ears like whips to smack them around like they are nothing more than playthings to her.
When Bags catches someone, she will try to feed them a carrot - a special carrot she makes that makes whoever eats them uncontrollably bouncy and giddy, and hungry for more. Like a drug addict they will do anything for another carrot, unaware that they start to warp the victims' mind and prepares them for eventual absorption.
A giant zipper runs down Bags' belly, and another zipper keeps her mouth closed. Bags has a sweet tooth for humans, and once she is done playing she will either swallow the person down or just zip open her belly and stuff them in. Once inside, the soft plush interior makes a cozy home. Bags feeds on kinetic energy, so once trapped she makes her victims more and more bouncy, creating and special zipper so the person can stick their head out so Bags can feed them more of the energizing carrots. The more carrots they eat, the bouncier they are, the more power Bags gets and the closer they become to being turned into plump pink bunnies and finally absorbed into her plush.
Bags also chooses special victims to put into her womb, a special pouch between her legs. Once chosen, her paws secrete a spandex webbing that encases the victim inside a giant carrot-shaped cocoon. Then opening her pouch, she slowly presses them in and seals them shut. Over a week Bags rubs and caresses her prey, the cocoon pumped with carrot puree as the constant rush warps their mind and body. When done, Bags opens her pouch to reveal a new Bags Bunny, powerful yet obedient to the original.
The Youth Sangha came back better than ever! Nine bhaktis, eight days, lots of kirtan, a group art project and some uncontrollable laughter made up this year's Summer Sangha. Take a look at some of the highlights below!
bhaktimarga.org
Who says Chicks with Guns aren't hot? Well...I don't.
Blameux Scribe models a pair of sexy Mac 10's by creator Niiya Narayan, while doing a little target practice at Skidz Isle Sandbox.
No innocent bystanders were hurt. One started drooling uncontrollably though. ^_^
Confessions Installations
With his installations, Arik confesses, bares his soul and invites us to do the same. His starting point is the observation that most Parisian couples end up divorcing and that building a life as a couple is an extremely fragile enterprise. Failure to communicate well is often at the root of this problem. Taboos and unspoken truths eat away at a couple’s harmonious existence. Confessions allow this trust to be rebuilt. Driven by an “uncontrollable muscle”, Arik Levy surfs a tsunami of ideas, that swallows up every preconceived notion in its path. He offers us a new perspective on our environment and the issues of intimacy; through this quest, devoid of safeguards, he raises the essential problem of our truth.
Slott | Exquise design
12 rue du Château Landon 75010 Paris
M° Château Landon-Gare de lʼEst-Louis Blanc
Love,
Exquise crew
Slott | Exquise design
12 rue du Château Landon 75010 Paris
M° Château Landon-Gare de lʼEst-Louis Blanc
flickr.com/photos/exquisedesign
coroflot.com/exquisedesign
©Florian Kleinefenn
Exhibition “Preliminaries”: design at the threshold of love.
As an extension of a project on the theme of love, Slott gallery
and Exquise Design® have invited four designers to play out
their fantasies, giving shape and meaning, breathing life into their
conceptions of preliminaries. They have approached this subject
from different and complementary viewpoints that together offer
a panorama of creation like no other seen before.
Arik Levy unveils his work on the spoken and the unspoken of
intimate relations with his series of installations entitled “Confessions”
that includes, among other elements, an examination of
the iconography of sexuality alongside a kind of modern home
confessional. As the theme of the exhibition required that contributions
be solicited from both male and female designers in equal
measure, it is fascinating to observe the ways in which, by sharing
their visions, they complete and engage each other.
matali crasset and Florence Jaffrain carry us away to underwater paradises
with their respective works “Aequorea” and “Belly Love”, creating
soft and sensual shapes that run up against Mathieu Lehanneur’s
torrid yet petrified flames in his “The Power of Love”.
Visitors will also be struck by the singular visions of the four
designers, each of which offers a completely different approach
to objects. With his Confessions, Arik Levy makes the object a
tool for communication, standing in for the fears and concerns
we often find it so difficult to voice. Straddling the boundaries of
design and architecture, matali crasset approaches the object
as a space. Mathieu Lehanneur, working from a more sculptural
perspective, raises the object to the heights of allegory (of the
couple), at the same time endowing it with a mediating role.
Last but not least, Florence Jaffrain tends to make the object an end
in itself, by creating a sofa that might almost be perceived as
playing the role of the lover, becoming an object of desire.
Equise Design | Design Loft
Our son's terrier and believe me it is real ratter.
What a character but like all terriers virtually uncontrollable but loveable.
“The laying of the foundation stones of the new Bridge-street Primitive Methodist Chapel, which event took place at Golborne on Saturday afternoon, marks an important step in advance in the annals of local Nonconformity in general and of Primitive Methodism in particular. For upwards of forty years the present small building off Bridge-street has done duty for both school and chapel purposes, and during this period its inadequateness has often forced itself upon those in charge of the work; indeed, the erection of a larger and more suitable structure became so desirable that nearly twenty years ago the trustees purchased the land fronting Bridge-street on which the new chapel is now being erected. During the time the land has been held the society has lost valuable members by death, and this, together with other uncontrollable circumstances, has delayed the work so long contemplated. Of recent years the funds have been augmented by various means; but a large amount of credit for the success of the undertaking is undoubtedly due to the efforts of the Rev Walter Graham (the resident minister), who since he has had charge of the circuit has been indefatigable in pushing the scheme forward, and general regret is expressed that, owing to his removal to another circuit early next month, he will not be able to witness the completion of the work inaugurated on Saturday. Despite unfavourable weather there was good attendance at the ceremony. Amongst the ministers present were the Revs D Neilson, MA BD (Manchester), J Dudley (Middleton), J Yearsley (Stretford), E R Davies (Earlestown), J T Camm (Congregationalist), and W Graham (resident minister). The visitors included Messrs Jos. and Jno. Bridge, James Bridge, and R Allen (Culcheth), W D Dean (Patricroft), and others. After the opening hymn had been sung, the Rev J T Camm read the 84th Psalm. Six foundation stones were laid by the undermentioned, whose donations are appended:- Mr John Bridge, Parkside, £40; Miss Bridge, Golborne, (in memory of her father) £40; Miss E Parr, Golborne (£30); Master J H Richardson (aged four years), Runcorn, £30; (given by his parents in memory of the old chapel), Mr Thomas Highton, Golborne, £10 10s; Mr W Goulden, Golborne (in memory of the late Mr Joseph Walker) £20. After singing another hymn, the Rev D Neilson gave a brief practical address... He was thankful to God to be able to say that Primitive Methodism had a reason for its existence. It began by a few earnest toilers and the great idea they had in view was the conversion of the people. There were those standing before him who could look back with joy to the mercies received in the old chapel, but they expected when the new structure was erected they would have a place more adapted to their requirements in the various departments of the work of getting men and women saved. He trusted they would have splendid results. The Primitive Methodist Church was more democratic than the Church of England – it gave more power to the people. As a community they represented the Presbyterian system of church polity – they were neither very rabid Conservatives nor extreme Radicals, though there was a good deal of Radical blood in them. (Laughter.) They had their conferences and were Presbyterians in their mode of church government. They had itinerant ministers, and if a church happened to have a man they did not like so well, they could say to him at the end of the year, “We have been thinking that it would be be better for you and better for us to have a change”. (Laughter.) But by mutual consent a man could stay one, two, or three years, and if he was a really good man he might stay ten or twenty years. This he thought was a great advantage, and every minister had a place found for him. As a church they started at the bottom; they had no endowments, and they did not want any; they were men and women, and they preferred to pay their own way. Being perfectly free from every controlling power of the State, he believed they could serve God better and could better approach the people. In conclusion, he hoped the future of that church would be filled with hope, and that victory would be inscribed on their banner. -A collection having been taken, the proceedings closed with singing and prayer. -Tea was provided in the schoolroom, to which a large number of friends sat down. -In the evening a well-attended public meeting was held in the Congregational function-room. Mr Councillor Arnott presided, and was accompanied by most of the above-named members, and Messrs J Wood (Leigh), T Cook and W Glover. -The Chairman, who was accorded a very hearty welcome, said it gave him pleasure in presiding, and to know that the afternoon's proceeding had been so satisfactory. There was nothing like perseverance, and he was sure there must have been great perseverance and good will to have enabled them to do what they had accomplished that afternoon. Golborne people might congratulate themselves on having so many churches and chapels, for he did not think there was a denomination they wished to join but what was represented in Golborne. Chapels would still be welcome, because as the township grew the increased population must be provided for. Personally he was very pleased that steps had been taken to erect the new chapel, and he hoped the old building would be made into a school. It was thoroughly understood that by means of schools they filled the churches and chapels, for if they did not provide proper religious instruction they could not expect to fill the places of worship. (Hear, hear.) He heartily congratulated the Bridge-street Primitive Methodists on the work they had done that day, and he earnestly prayed that the blessing of Almighty God would rest upon their labours. (Applause.) -The Rev Walter Graham submitted an interesting report of the movement. The land had cost £365 14s 3d, the contract for the new chapel was £1,280... They had £306 11s 3d in the bank, and prior to that day's proceedings the total subscriptions amounted to £505 10s 8d; the chairman had authorised him to put down for £5, while the total raised on the ground that afternoon reached the sum of £176 9s 8d, making a grand total up to the present of £1,004 14s 6d. For a small church he thought that was a very respectable report to present. (Applause.) -The Chairman expressed his great pleasure at the financial position indicated by the report, a position which spoke well for the success of their new chapel. -The Rev J Dudley, who received a warm welcome as a former minister, next addressed the meeting. He said that was a red-letter day in the history of local Primitive Methodism. It was a day many of them had longed to see. He had longed to see it when amongst them; their present minister had longer for it, and it did seem a pity that Mr Graham was not staying in the circuit to see the completion of the work they had inaugurated that day. In the course of a spirited address, the rev. gentleman spoke of the necessity of the progressive work of to-day manifesting itself in the church. Conservatism in the Church, he said, meant stagnating, and while they must hold fast their religious principles and the good old Bible, they must march forward with the times and battle against the sins of gambling, of intemperance, and kindred evils by which they were surrounded. -The Rev J Yearsley, in a humorous speech, appealed to his hearers to make religion a life -the life of God in man's heart. Parents especially should see that they made out of the children a new church, so that the work could be carried on when they had gone to their reward. -Mr J Wood (Leigh), as a representative of a neighbouring circuit, congratulated the Golborne people on their enterprise. -The Rev J T Camm reviewed the early history of Golborne, tracing the progress of the various religious denominations. Golborne possessed nine places of worship, providing sitting accommodation for 2,700 persons, or about one half of the population, which at the last census was returned at 5,601. He looked forward to the time when all the places of worship would have to be enlarged, and personally he should ever be willing to continue the spirit of reciprocity which had prevailed during his pastorate. (Applause.) -The Rev W Graham gave an interesting account of the early history of Lowton Primitive Methodism, and announced that the actual financial result of the day's proceedings exceeded £200. (Applause.) -The meeting concluded with a hearty vote of thanks to the chairman for presiding. The new chapel, which will be a handsome structure, will find accommodation for about 300 worshippers. Mr J Wilson (Runcorn) is the architect, Messrs L and S Talbot (Golborne) are the contractors, and Mr W Sandham is clerk of the works.”
The Youth Sangha came back better than ever! Nine bhaktis, eight days, lots of kirtan, a group art project and some uncontrollable laughter made up this year's Summer Sangha. Take a look at some of the highlights below!
bhaktimarga.org
The Youth Sangha came back better than ever! Nine bhaktis, eight days, lots of kirtan, a group art project and some uncontrollable laughter made up this year's Summer Sangha. Take a look at some of the highlights below!
bhaktimarga.org
In modern usage the phrase "Quis Custodiet Ipsos Custodes" has universal, timeless applications to concepts such as tyrannical governments and uncontrollably oppressive dictatorships
i loves me some Chop Salon!
hair is pretty damn happy, i think it's got the right amount of uncontrollable boosh and the right amount of layers.
Rewind to a miserable summer’s day in San Fransisco, 1985.
The bright blue sky is nowhere to be seen, overtook by a ruthless fog and deafening downpour, sporadically punctuated by the even louder sound of thunder.
On an upper floor of a cheap apartment complex, a six-year-old boy hides beneath a coffee table. He closes his eyes and plugs his ears, but just faintly, he hears the sound of his mother’s feet creaking the floorboards. They reach the table, toes pointed towards him, each wrapped in yellow knit yarn.
“Oh, Mal,” she sighs, a loving warmth in her cadence. She bends her knees, meets him eye-to-eye. “The weather’s got you worked up?”
He nods.
“Come ‘ere.” She reaches out to him, with both her arms. “Lemme show you something.”
“No,” he hastily replies. “I’m not going out there. It’s dangerous.”
“I promise it’s not.”
He crosses his arms, but soon after, she extends a pinkie finger - this is enough to persuade the boy. They lock pinkies, forming a swear of unbreakability. He crawls out, and she picks him up, despite a lasting look of weariness in his eyes. She walks over to the tallest window in the apartment, with a clear view of the city below.
“When I was a little girl,” she recounts, “the thunder scared me, too. I would hope, and hope, and hope for the sun to come back. But one day, I learned a new way of thinking.”
“What?”
“To love what we cannot change.”
“But what’s there to love? It’s all grey, boring, sad, loud…”
“Everything has something to love about it. The rain, it goes to the grass, and with the help of a chemical reaction from the lightning, the land is fertilized. That means the veggies can grow, and the flowers can bloom. It’s a beautiful thing, the world giving us a hand. Helping us out. And even the way it looks and sounds, I’ve learned to love those things, too. The rain is like a soothing drumbeat, the thunder and lightning are like exciting fireworks… It’s all so wonderful. If I could only teach you one thing, Malcolm, it would be this: there is always an upside, no matter the situation.”
These words touch Malcolm’s heart. All fear begins drifting from his eyes, now enlightened by a sense of wonder.
They smile to each other. She runs her fingers through his hair for a while, and he tells her, “I think I get it now.”
Time passes. Malcolm finds himself lying beneath the window, his stomach on the floorboards and his head rested on both his palms. His eyes don’t deviate from the window. With every moment, he finds a new thing to appreciate; like the traffic, jammed in the streets. ‘It’s not so bad’, he thinks to himself. From his perspective, it’s all these colourful cars in a slow parade. To some drivers, it’s not so bad, either; a family has a chat as they listen to the rain tapping on their car; a man sits alone, relaxed after a long day of work, listening to the radio and patiently waiting for the cars ahead to begin moving again, so he can complete his venture home; one young driver uses the slow of time as an excuse to confess her love to the woman in her passenger seat. These stories are real, but Malcolm makes up similar ones. After a while, he grabs his sketchbook from the shelf, and draws what he thinks the people in those stories might look like.
Behind Malcolm, his mother is laying out paperwork on the coffee table - bills, taxes, fines, so on. She rubs each of her temples, wishing hard that she could afford a bottle of ibuprofen.
But he pays no mind to her.
More time passes. Malcolm sees his favourite restaurant, through all the fog - The Quiet Ambassador. He draws the building, in as much detail as he can; the lower of brick, the upper of ridged wood, the doorway of glass, a window in the shape of a sunflower, a sign with a smiling egg yolk, and a graffiti portrait on the side wall; depicting a brave sailor, standing prideful on his bow with a rapier held tight in his fist, defending his frightened daughter from a gargantuan beast of tentacles that attempts to yank the man’s barque below the tide. That scene is something Malcolm appreciates every time he sees it, and he always finds something new to appreciate about it - like he’s doing now, on a broader scale. But with this newfound outlook, he questions now, in that bout of kraken versus seaman, who’s really the antagonist?
Behind Malcolm, there’s a knock at the door. The mother stands, walks, unlatches, opens, only to see the face of Malcolm’s father. Not a second goes by, before he begins sweating profusely, tripping on his own words, trying so hard to plead a case. Plead his innocence. Plead a right to be welcomed back into their family. Alas, he’s told again to stop following the mother and child. And the door is slammed in his face.
She’s right to set boundaries, despite his sorrows - nothing has ever seemed to work between the two. Yet part of her, always part of her, fails to let go of the fun they once had together.
All it takes for a headache to start are two thoughts contradicting one another;
I hate him, but I love him;
The mother already had a headache.
But now, she has two.
She falls to the floor, her head between her knees as she attempts to roll a blunt with a hand that shakes, uncontrollably.
Before her, Malcolm appears - he’s learned from the stories of other, and now reunites with the story of his own. He tilts his head.
He pays mind to her.
Maybe he doesn’t have her experience. Maybe he doesn’t have my vocabulary.
But he does have faith. Faith in that, he knows the right thing to do.
“Look on the upside,” he tells her. “There’s a storm going on. And storms are beautiful.”
Swing the clock hands forward - to a moment before we left off.
Malcolm and Cindy walk down a busy street, that’s getting busier by the minute; businessmen stumbling to work, older folks in pyjamas walking their dogs, graffiti artists trying to blend into the crowd as they make their way to the alleys, and many more. Some enter Dunkin’ Doughnuts, and all the various shops about, but only the most plain, unremarkable of the crowd enter the tall, grey, cylindrical skyscraper labeled Delevigne.
The Otherkind couple’s not dressed in their usual, no-frills street attire; Malcolm’s opted for a stylish black top, marmalade dress pants and a golden neck chain, while Cindy, her hair untied and unbraided, is clad in a floral dress with a violet cardigan overtop.
“…So even after you started a gang war-“
“Accidentally,” adds Malcolm.
“Sure,” Cindy giggles, “even after you accidentally started a gang war… Rip was fine with us going on a date?”
“He’s frazzled; I’m sure he would’ve said yes to anything.”
“Wow - The Rip, frazzled? Everything’s upside-down and backwards, that optimism of yours is more powerful than I thought!”
“It’s not my fault.”
“You’ve made it very clear you feel that way! I could start calling you Mr. Accidentally.”
“Upside’s fine,” Malcolm laughs, looking into her eyes but still walking toward their destination. “But for real, I think the Amy Winehouse guy was gonna start shit no matter what either of us said or did. Just the vibe he gives off; a shit-starter.”
“Oh, right, what did he look like?”
“Who?”
“The Amy Winehouse guy!”
“Oh, freaky. Real freaky, Boogieman kinda guy; eyes like The Emperor, pale blue skin, greasiest hair I’ve ever seen…”
“Judgemental much?”
“I’m not being judgmental, I’m just being accurately descriptive! Seriously, wait till you see the guy. Oh, wait, actually…” Malcolm ceases his saunter, to dig for an item from his pocket; a sort of pyramidal shape, with a thin box on both the top and the bottom, all made from a carved cyan gemstone. He presses it against his forehead, chants a brief spell. From it, with a flash of light, shoots a thin photograph. Cindy grabs it before it hits the ground, and looks at it.
This, is a memory photo - particularly, a clear image of Eldon Peck.
“Yeesh,” Cindy reacts, “you were not kidding.”
“Mhm,” Malcolm replies, beginning to walk again. Cindy follows.
“God, I hate that I can tell what he smells like; cacophony of blood, vomit, cigarettes…”
“Mhm.”
She analyzes the image for another moment or two. “…Hey, Malcolm?”
“Yeah?”
“When we go up against this guy, I think I wanna come with- and I don’t just mean sit in an alley.”
“Oh, yeah? You sure?”
“Yeah, like, I appreciate you looking out for me, but I wanna help where I can, y’know? And this guy, I’d particularly like to put a bullet in this guy’s head.”
When others on the sidewalk begin raising eyebrows and dropping jaws at that statement, Malcolm uses another pocket tool to erase it from their memories. “I was hoping we could handle this situation non-violently.”
“You told me Rip called him a ‘soul-trafficker’; I think anyone who’s an anything-trafficker should be shot - and, you know Rip doesn’t just throw around terms like that, so I feel pretty damn certain it’s accurate. Plus, you said Rip and this guy have history, yeah? Negative history?”
“‘The Otherkind’s arch-nemesis’, he called him.”
“I think we’re gonna have to kill this guy, Malcolm.”
“Damn,” Malcolm says under his breath, clicking the magic mind-wiper again. “But if you think it’s the right move, I’ll live with it.”
“Doesn’t matter what I think, either way; you know Rip.”
“Do I, though? Rip surprised me on that roof, I was able to persuade him-”
“-into a gang war. Maybe best we let the magic pedophile die, Mal, avoid the monkey’s paw shenanigans - I hardly see a downside to that.”
“…I see your point.”
The two reach their destination - The Quiet Ambassador - only for a young woman with black hair just leaving the establishment to brashly bump into Malcolm’s shoulder. He looks down at his hand, nearly stumbles, feeling as if he’s dropped the magic mind-wiper, but… He hasn’t. “That’s… Weird.”
“Oi, watch where you’re going!” Cindy shouts at the woman, before turning back to Malcolm. “That was that girl,” she whispers. “The magician girl you fought last year, remember? One Richie Rich got us to go after?”
“Right,” says Malcolm, watching as she continues to storm off. “Weird coincidence. But… I’m getting this weird sense of deja vu. Or, actually, opposite of deja vu? Not sure what you’d call it.”
“What do you mean? Cause of the girl?”
“No, not cause of the girl - cause of this,” he holds up the magic mind-wiper - fully intact. “I saw it break. I can see it so clear in my mind, it shattered on the sidewalk. But it… It didn’t.”
“Huh. Bit odd.”
“Yeah… Well. No point stressing about it,” Malcolm shrugs. “Least it didn’t break.”
The two walk through the doorway. To their right, they see a man with spiky blonde hair, scavenging through his wallet. To their left, they see a man wearing an olive baseball cap, holding an oblong duffel bag of some kind, tightly - what could be in there?
Before the duo, walks a hostess. “Hello there! Table for two, I presume?”
“Yep, I called about a reservation.”
“Ah, yes; Malcolm, was it?”
“Yep!”
“Alrighty, sit wherever you’d like.”
They do as invited, and choose a table near the back of the establishment, with a decent bay view out the window. Distantly, Malcolm sees a sort of factory building, with three smoke towers.
“This is my first time here,” says Cindy, looking over her menu.
“Oh, really? The Ambassador was my favourite growing up.”
Cindy looks up to a wood-carven sculpture in the upper-right corner of the room - in the shape of the sun, with a smiling face painted on. “That makes sense,” she snickers.
“I know off the top of my head what’s best on the menu, so if you need any help, just ask.”
“Oh, really? Did you already know what you were getting before we walked in?”
“Waffles, alamode - with cherries - and a glass of orange juice.”
Cindy laughs heartily. “Orange juice?”
“What?”
“Mimosas are on the menu!”
“So?”
“’So’? You’re 27 years old!”
“I don’t want champagne this early in the morning - I just want that sweet, sweet taste of orange juice. Good source of vitamin A, to boot.”
“Alright, alright, you do you, I’m just getting a coffee.” She looks at the menu again. “And some beans on toast, I think.”
“Beans on toast?”
“What? Nostalgia, Malcolm, childhood nostalgia!”
“Bread, beans, soup, that canned stuff is all we get most days at work! Why not treat yourself to something different? How often do we get this opportunity?”
Cindy rests her head on a limp fist, her index finger nudging her lower lip as she looks thoughtfully into Malcolm’s umber eyes. “You know what? Fuck it,” she announces at a polite volume, picking the menu back up again. “Think I’ll just have what you’re having- but, I’ll swap that OJ for a mimosa, since I, for one, could definitely use some champagne.”
A server appears at the table, visibly stressed by something that occurred at another, but she’s trying - emphasis on trying - to hide it. She pulls out her notepad. “Drinks to start?”
“Actually,” Malcolm begins, “I think we’ve figured out everything we’ll be ordering, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh, go right ahead!”
Malcolm nods toward Cindy.
“I’ll have waffles alamode- with… Cherries?” She tilts her head at Malcolm, and is met with a thumbs-up. “And a mimosa to drink,” she concludes, looking back up to the server.
“And I,” Malcolm begins, “will get a black coffee, and some beans on toast. Thank you so much.”
“Alrighty, I’ll be right back,” the server assures.
Cindy bats her eyes at Malcolm. “Huh?”
“You made a switcheroo, why can’t I? I’m done being the predictable one.”
Cindy’s brows lower. “Oh my god, I haven’t been overstepping with the Upside thing, have I? I didn’t mean to make you feel like you were a cardboard cutout.”
“It’s not cause of anything you make me feel - you make me feel wonderful - I’m just, worried that maybe I am a cardboard cutout. And the last quality you’d want when going into a…” He looks behind himself, over his shoulders.“‘GW’, is predictability.”
“Uh-huh… You remember the magic mind-wiper didn’t break, right?” Cindy asks, acknowledging his hesitance to use the phrase ‘gang war’.
“Oh. Right. God, what’s going on with my head today?”
Cindy makes eye contact with the man in the olive cap, but immediately upon doing so he begins reading a newspaper - an act that’s blatant, to Cindy, as being in reaction. ‘Something’s up with that guy,’ she thinks to herself, but it doesn’t come up at the table.
“Uh… So,” says Malcolm, trying to change the subject, “you said beans on toast is nostalgic for you?”
“Think that was a given; British an’ all.”
“Sure, but it peaked my interest; you know practically all there is to know about my childhood, yet I rarely, if ever, hear about yours.”
“There’s not a lot to talk about.”
“Not true.”
“Why’s it not true?”
“You might not want to talk about it- and I won’t force you to, by the way,” he puts two palms up when he interjects himself, in a passive yet defensive gesture. “But there’s always something to talk about, when it comes to childhood. Especially if it’s one that lead to an adulthood like ours; bad lives make good stories.”
“Well.” She looks up at the ceiling, trying to decide what parts to keep in and out of the story. “I was adopted, by two chavs in Birmingham. Not quite sure what mind-fuckery took place in order for my bio mum to hand me over to them, of all people. Honestly, not sure why the two even wanted me in the first place, seeing as they were couch surfing drug dealers; one would think the stress of looking after a child would be the last thing they’d want to tack onto their already miserable lives.”
“Aren’t you being a little harsh?”
“Accurately descriptive,” she corrects, with a brief, and teetering on artificial, smirk. She lets out a sigh. “Fran and Shane, they were called - the adopters. They would squabble every day, but it wasn’t often to do with me. Rarely did they pay attention to me at all, actually. But I made friends; there was Baby, Linus, Zach, Walter… Gang of delinquents, we were. Vandals, at first. When we were old enough, we followed in Fran and Shane’s footsteps, one could say. Sold product. One day, Walter said we should use the money to go to California. Said it’s beautiful there. That we’d be better off.”
“It is beautiful here.”
“It was. Once.” She trips on a breath, but the server and hostess return before any tears start forming.
“Here you go! One mimosa, one black coffee, waffles alamode with cherries, and beans on toast - enjoy!”
“Thank you so much,” says Malcolm.
“I’m sorry,” Cindy tells Malcolm, a moment after the server and hostess walk away.
“Don’t be.” He puts out a hand, over the table. He may be muscular, but that hand, it’s that of a gentle giant; so harmless, so comforting. Cindy takes it. “I hope one day you’ll see the world as I do. Despite everything that’s bleak, despite all that we’ve gone through and will go through, there’s something so beautiful about the world we live in, and everything in it… Even beans on toast,” he laughs, moving his eyes to his plate.
She smiles earnestly, as her eyes trail from his plate to hers. She picks up her fork, uses it to rake a small portion of the vanilla ice cream onto the edge of the crispy, golden waffle. She jabs the fork deeper, separating piece from whole. She dips it into the viscous cherry grouping, crafting the perfect bite, and washing it down with the first sip of mimosa. “Holy…”
“Good, right?”
“The best. Thank you for taking me here.” As she swerves her fork back downward, a thought strikes her eyes up to meet his. “You wanna switch, though, yeah?”
“Nah, I’m good,” he assures, cutting a small square of toast topped with beans with his knife and fork, and slipping it between his teeth. He takes a gulp of coffee, but jolts it away, squinting his eyes. “I’ve aught to get used to that, though, damn... Bitter. You take it just like this?”
“Mhm. But, there is cream and sugar on the table, you know.”
“No, thanks; I wanna put myself in your shoes. See the world how you see it.”
“Thought you wanted me to see the world how you see it.”
“But I don’t wanna just, eradicate your perspective. I wanna meld, y’know? I like you a lot, Cin, I’m always eager to learn more about you.” He takes another sip from the coffee, already beginning to get a little more comfortable with the taste. “So, Fran and Shane.”
“What about ‘em?”
He shrugs. “Where’d they end up? Oh, they’re still… With us, right?”
She sighs again. “No idea, to be honest. Can’t say we really stayed in touch. If they didn’t both overdose, then they’re probably living more of the same.”
“But imagine, even for a second, that they aren’t. Imagine they, I dunno, won the lottery - or, like, moved somewhere new - turned a new leaf, beat their addictions, got stable jobs…”
“I sincerely doubt it.”
“Sure, but there’s no way of knowing. Unless you ever happen to run into them again, there’s nothing stopping us from believing any stories we wanna believe. It’s like Schrödinger’s box, yeah? Just, less animal murder.”
She holds back soft laughter, as she drinks more of her mimosa. “Happy until proven unhappy.”
“Yeah! Exactly.”
“I like that. That’s very sweet.” She taps on her cheek with two fingers sunnily, as her eyes wander across the floor. “Oh, Nikki,” she sighs with a passion, her eyes meeting her boyfriend’s yet again.
“What about my mom?” His brows go nervous, but his smile persists.
“We wouldn’t be here without her, now would we?”
“You say that like we’re brother and sister.”
“Pffft.”
“I get what you mean,” he chuckles. “I’m just being facetious.”
“Brilliant woman,” she goes on, “or, so I’m told. I hope I can meet her one day.”
“I hope so, too.”
“How is she, by the way?”
“It’s.” This might be the first time he’s frowned all day, and Cindy notices that. “Complicated.”
“Uh oh.”
“She’s okay. Don’t worry about her. Just… Can we change the subject?”
“Oh, for sure…” She nods, reaching the end of her meal. She’s never seen him that tense before. ‘Come to think of it, he’s never really mentioned where Nikki ended up. All this talk of childhood, but what ever happened between him and his mum when he grew up?’ “Oh,” she says, after a while of eating and thinking, “I stumbled on something a tad odd, on the laptop* the other day.”
*The Rip purchased a laptop for Cindy a few months ago, in order for her to check various online black markets for re-sellable magic goods. He told her that she was the only one of the three to be trusted with such a responsibility - ironically, she gets distracted on that computer rather often.
“Oh, yeah?” Malcolm asks.
“Some true crime podcast did an episode on us.”
He tilts his head.
“Don’t worry, don’t worry, it’s only got like, 30 followers, tops. All the comments are calling bullshit, too.”
“Did you listen to it? How much did they get right?”
“About 50/50. They know we’re called Otherkind, they know our boss is a walking portal, they know a bit about our operation - but they made up a bunch of other shit, like, that we’re all vampires, and that Rip’s a forest demon who lures people with drawings he puts on the trees-”
“I thought you said 50/50 - beneath all the fan-fiction, they’ve got, like, 75%!”
“Math isn’t my strong suit,” she admits, flatly.
“Just, don’t tell Rip any of this - I worry he’d look for a snitch to blame, and then…” He raises an index finger, interrupting himself. “But, hey, thirty people - not a lot, but there’s bound to be at least one criminal in there, yeah?”
“Dunno about ‘bound’, but, it’s not impossible.”
“You just said math wasn’t your strong suit, what are you doing criticizing my statistic predictions?”
“Consistency isn’t my strong suit; I’m not put together like you are, I don’t have that core philosophy you do.”
“Sure you do, you just haven’t put a label on it,” he explains, taking the last bite of his beans on toast. “I had no idea I was Upside till I met you. Backtrack, all’s I was gonna say was, maybe a pod listener’ll become a new buyer - and more money, means more money to spare, means more dates.”
“Aww.”
“By the way… Why’s it called true crime?”
“What do you mean? Seems like a perfectly fitting title to me; it’s true, and it’s crime!”
“But like, nothing else has that naming convention; ‘reality TV’ isn’t called ‘true TV’. You’d think if there’s a ‘true crime’, there would also be a ‘true sci-fi’, ‘true fantasy’-“
“What the hell would ‘true fantasy’ even be, though? I mean, it’s not like there’s real wizards, or warlocks, or-”
A smile from Malcolm brings Cindy to a pause.
“…Touché,” she says.
The server returns, takes the dishes. The food is paid for at the front counter. The couple leaves the establishment.
As Malcolm and Cindy make their way back down the street, and he rests his arm around her shoulders, she places the amble at a halt with the question:
“Can I show you something I’ve been working on?”
“Absolutely.”
They make a turn for the alleyway, eyes now on a graffito;
a picture that covers the whole wall, intricate yet crude, Baquiatesque.
It depicts screaming parents, drawn with rash, angry lines;
Scared children, running to what looks like drugs, alcohol, other dangerous habits;
Hearts of love, between figures drawn in black and white; those with beaming optimism contrasted with those that have broken spirits, in a sort of yin yang;
Magic wands, wicked witches, goblins and ghouls -
all of this, every single piece, fits together like a jigsaw - in order to create one and only word:
‘Offspring’.
“What do you think?” asks Cindy. “It’s something I’ve been working on, every chance I get. Real passion project, expression of all that I’ve been feeling lately in one piece of art, y’know? I’m real happy with it.”
“I… Wow. Just. Wow. I’m at a loss for words, Cindy.”
“You like it, huh?”
“Like it? I love it.” He notices something, something that catches him off guard a little: this was painted over the kraken mural from his youth. That might have upset the Malcolm of old, and the Malcolm of now of course still adored that mural, yet, it’s not at all hard for him to find the upside here - it’s staring him in the face. “I’m big into abstract expressionism, this might be one of my new favourite works. But hang on, ‘Offspring’ - is that a tag?”
“Something like that.”
“What’s it mean?”
“Well, it’s sort of a, what came first, chicken or the egg, thing - the answer I’d give, is neither; we’re all offsprings. As far back as you go, in all of history, there’s never one thing that came from nothing. No matter how hard you fight for identity, we’re all shackled to legacy, and lineage...”
“Hm,” he nods. “Poignant - and I thought you said you had no core philosophy.”
“Oh,” she says, surprised. “I hadn’t really thought about it in the context of, me.”
“What do you mean? You said this depicts what’s been on your mind, and I absolutely see you in this. I think we’ve found who you are, Cin; I’m Upside, and you’re Offspring.”
“Hm,” she tilts her head, viewing her own work from a new perspective. “I like that.”
“I’ve got a question, though - about the piece.”
“Yeah?”
He points to what makes up the ‘O’ in ‘Offspring’. “You said Fran and Shane’s ‘squabbling’ - love that word, by the way - never had anything to do with you, and yet, that looks like parents yelling at a kid. What’s that image mean to you? And the kid, she’s running toward… That might be a cigarette, but it might be a magic wand-”
“Malcolm, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Oh?”
“When I told you about my childhood, I… Well, okay, most of it was true. But there was some stuff that…”
“You lied to me?”
“…”
“It’s okay if you did, I’m… I’m sure you had your reasons.”
“I was… Scared.”
“Not of me, right?”
“No, no, of course not- but there’s just this… Thing, about me, that I’ve never told anyone about in a long time. I tend to keep it a secret, but I like you a lot, Mal, so I think you deserve to know.”
“Alright. What is it?”
She pauses another long while, her eyes facing down at the pavement, her mouth sealed and stretched. “Fran and- Mum and Dad , they did their best. They really did; they gave me food, shelter, love, attention, all that, despite what they didn’t have. They resented their own parents, and it was a lifelong dream of theirs to be better than them. They absolutely achieved their goal, but I… Admittedly, I took them for granted.” She’s starting to tear up a little. “And I could’ve grown from that. It all could’ve been fine. They never blamed me for that, anyway; kids, they’re supposed to be rebellious, they understood that. But they… There’s something else, that came up. Something about me, that even they couldn’t support. When they found out about it, it was only then I’d heard them scream for the first time - and to this day, I’ve never heard anyone else scream quite like they did that night. They told me to get out. They told me they never, ever wanted to see me again. They told me I should burn.”
“Jesus, Cindy, that’s horrible! No one should ever, ever talk to a kid like that, especially not their own kid…” Sweat drips down his brow - lots of it. “…But, what was it, that made them say those things? Did you kill someone..?”
“God no!” She punches him in the chest - not exactly lightly , but light enough that he takes it without flinching. She looks up at him. “How could you ask that?”
His eyes don’t waver from hers. His visage starts perplexed, but reshapes into a grin. “You said you wanted to kill the Amy Winehouse guy, like, less than an hour ago.”
She looks back down, unable to contain her laughter, yet concealing it - mildly - via pressing her face into his chest. “Touché,” she says, for the second time this morning, more sigh-like than the last time.
“But for real,” asks Malcolm, “what was it?”
“I… Okay,” she lets out a quick exhale, and backs away from him slightly, shaking her arms about and stretching her calves. “I think it’s best I show you. Get ready, I assure you, this is… Weird. Just, take my hand.”
He takes her hand.
She says something under her breath, does some sort of hand motion.
In a poof of violet smoke, the couple finds themselves in
“A playground?” asks Malcolm. “How did you-… Where are we?”
“London! Little playground in London. I remember Mum and Dad taking me here when I was little - first park I ever went to, actually! They had to save up for a bus, but they said it was worth it, and that the parks in Birmingham were too drab for ‘a little princess’-“
“But, how did you do that - teleport, I mean. Like, did Rip give you a throw-pearl, or something?”
“I’m... Well, I’m not exactly human- or, well, I’m not a ‘homo sapien’. I’m more like Rip, you see-”
“Do the tentacle thing.”
“What?”
“Sorry, sorry,” he puts a hand to his forehead, “I’m just, a little confused, is all.”
“Well, lemme explain: biologists and historians tend to look at human evolution as a straight line, yeah?”
“Fish; fish with legs; and then at one point they realize they look a lot like fellows and blokes and such.”
“Yes, that - what not a lot of people mention, though, is that evolution began forking off in the later stages; homo sapiens make up most of the population today, but there’s a plethora of other forms our species took - like my form; I’m what’s called a ‘homo magi’; like a homo sapien, but with, y’know, magic powers.”
“And are those, like, limitless?”
“Kinda,” says Cindy, as they both start walking toward the empty structures in the playground. She steps onto the small metal carousel, kicks the ground a time or two in order for it to spin at a medium pace. “I had to learn the spells I know - it’s like, learning your first spell is learning how to walk, and then all the ones after are other, more complicated skills - like dance, or playing an instrument… Learning every spell ever is like, learning how to do every single thing the ‘normal’ body can do; learn how to do every job, skill, so on, but on an even larger scale… I think Rip might know all of them, though. Somehow.”
“Does he know you’re a homo magi?”
“No, and I’m not sure he would’ve hired me if he did; he might see another magic-user as more of a threat, compared to a ‘normal human’. I kinda think that’s why he surrounds himself with ‘normal humans’; less intimating. Deep down, I think he has a lot of fear and anxiety. I dunno. It’s just a theory I have.”
“Huh,” says Malcolm. “I never really thought about that. By the way, do we know for sure that he’s a homo magi? I mean, he doesn’t look especially human.”
“I’m… Not sure, actually. I was kinda just assuming, I’m not sure what else he could be.”
“What, are homo magis the only kinda people that can do magic?”
“For the most part; there’s some exceptions; I’ve read cases involving rituals with demon blood, which can grant powers. And, of course, there’s stuff like the tools we use, but I never took Rip to be a parlour trickster. If he’s not homo magi, then he’s, like, an entity, of some kind…” She stops spinning. “I’m sure the big question you’re wondering is, ‘why didn’t I use my powers to save Walter’.”
“That didn’t cross my mind. Even if it did, I wouldn’t have gone there.”
“Well, it’d be a fair question,” she tells him, getting up from the carousel and walking toward the swing-set - they sit beside one another. “And the answer’s,” she continues, looking forward, “I didn’t have enough experience. I didn’t know what spell could’ve saved him, and either way, I couldn’t think straight - my coordination was way off, I couldn’t get any magic words to come out… But, I’m not letting that happen again - I’m going to make sure of that.”
“I mean, that sounds good, but, just, don’t beat yourself up over what happened. Even if you were the most skilled, powerful wi-… zard there ever was, what happened wouldn’t have been your fault.”
She tilts back to him. “You’re very good with words.”
“Thank you.”
Her lip shakes. “Does it seriously not bother you?”
“What?”
“That I’m a… ‘Wizard’.”
“Cin, how could that possibly bother me?” He holds her hand. “You are the greatest person I’ve ever met, and it’d take something inconceivable for a single hole to be poked in the love I have for you. As far as I’m concerned, magic powers are just another upside; my girlfriend’s a wizard, how cool is that?”
She can’t begin to contain her tears, and yet, she smiles - wide. Widest she’s smiled in a long time. She nudges her swing toward his, and wraps her arms around him. “Thank you,” she tells him.
But.
Through her eyes in her head that lay atop his shoulder, she notices something behind the two of them - a man, on a bench.
Reading a newspaper.
She recognizes the colour of his trousers, the cap that pokes from behind the article…
It’s him .
And, he says something - one word.
And, despite how quiet he says it. Despite how distant the bench is. Despite the paper covering his mouth. The word is more than audible to Cindy’s ears. To her, it echoes.
“Witch.”
It’s enough for her to stumble out of her swing, and into the mass of pebbles that act as the floor to the playground.
“Are you okay?” Asks Malcolm, standing up from his swing.
“No.”
“Bleeding? Do you need ice?”
“No, that’s not what I…” She points toward the man on the bench. “Him,” she whispers. “He’s been following us, I’m sure of it.”
“Oh,” says Malcolm, turning his head. “We haven’t been here long, what do you mean he’s-“
“He was at the restaurant, Malcolm. He was in San Fransisco.”
“Oh.”
“What do we do?”
“Can’t you get us back to HQ?”
“What if us teleporting’s how he followed us - like, what if he’s got one of those tailer-hooks that Rip’s been warning us about?”
“Oh, shit… Uh.”
“How’s about we run in different directions, as fast as we can? Surely he can’t chase us both.”
“Alright, sounds like a plan.”
They do as agreed, but not for long; in a flash of green light, both of them return to the Otherkind headquarters.
“No!” Cindy exclaims. “No, no, no-“
“I sincerely apologize, Cindy,” says The Rip, standing before them, “but it was vital for me to put an end to your outing ahead of schedule; time is of the essence, due to the.” He looks to Malcolm. “Circumstances.”
“No, you don’t understand,” Cindy explains. “Somebody was following us! We think they had a tailer-hook!”
“…What did they look like?”
Cindy looks to Malcolm, her hand out toward him - he hands her the memory camera. She uses it on herself, and hands Rip the photo.
“…Kelly,” he growls, releasing his tendrils, and pivoting to look in all directions.
Alec reveals himself from the shadows, too - a vengeful anger in his eyes unlike any Malcolm and Cindy had ever seen in him. He uses one hand to take a pistol from his holster, and uses the other hand to open a locket that’s draped over his chest. He looks upon the picture in that locket, for quite some time. “He’s got a lot of nerve, if he’s gonna show himself here - after what he did.”
Malcolm and Cindy both wonder who’s face is in that locket, and what it was that Kelly ‘did’, but neither feel it’s the time to ask either of those questions.
“DON’T KILL ME!” a voice cries out. Out stumbles Kelly, into the middle of the room - his tailer-hook in one hand, his sword in the other, and a now-empty duffle bag dangling by its strap over his forearm. Tears are avalanching down his face.
“Is that a fairy?” Cindy whispers to Malcolm, gesturing toward Hannah - who, is tugging away desperately from Kelly’s blade, but to no success at escaping her restraints. Malcolm nods.
“Even if you managed to come up with one million reasons why I shouldn’t kill you,” The Rip tells Kelly, “it wouldn’t even be a fraction of enough to stop me.”
“I don’t need a million,” says Kelly, “I’ve got just the roight one to sway ya’! I’ve been ‘ere for bloody days, alroight?! Redone this entrance more toimes than I can count; spun ma’ sword so many toimes, I think I’ve got cahpal tunnel - and that’s just the tip of the iceberg! I’ve ‘ad my ahms and legs tahn off, ma’ stahmach burnt to bits! I been shot, stabbed, every single thing that even the sickest of sickos could possibly imagine! I may be back in one piece, but I am in AGONY - the feeling doesn’t go away, y’know! It’s loike, phanum pain, or some shite - I hate it, I hate it!!!”
“Don’t you dare pretend you’re the victim here,” says Hannah.
“Aren’t I? You just sat - flew - there, and watched!”
“You didn’t have to do any of it, though,” says Alec. “Everything you do, you choose to do it - that makes you far from a victim, dare I say the opposite of one.”
“But, I do have do it - for Mista’ Night! I’d do anything for ‘im! He’s the man who broke me outta prison, I ought to return the fava’! I’ll be ‘ere longer, if he wants me to be! Weeks? Months? Fockin’ years? I’d do it in a hahtbeat!”
One of The Rip’s tentacles shoots forth, faster than Kelly can even begin to turn his aching wrist - it wraps around his whole arm, making every inch of it immovable.
“Good luck,” says The Rip, “turning back time, now. If I’m being honest, thinking of the consequences of your theoretical infinite time loop was already giving me two or more headaches; what would happen, to the rest of the world, in that scenario? Would we all keep going back to that moment in time? Would all of this planet’s progress come to a halt, and forever be stuck in that moment? Would you be turning every single person alive right now into an immortal? I don’t think I’ve ever come to such a wall, such a lack of understanding, in all my years of being alive - what I do know, though, is that I’m not at all interested in that future, and I’d end a man’s life if it’s what I had to do to avoid it. Seems you’ve merely given me more reason to kill you, Asher Kelly - how funny is that?”
More of The Rip’s tentacles go flying at Kelly, Alec fires his gun several times.
And yet…
All the attacks are blocked off - by what seems to be an invisible force field.
“What?” asks Kelly, Hannah, Alec, Malcolm and The Rip, all in unison.
They look to Cindy - the only one who didn’t ask.
“I’m not sure,” she tells them, forcedly.
The Rip notices a few grains of white powder on the ground. “A salt circle,” he presumes, looking back up to Cindy.
‘Thank god’, she thinks to herself, silently. ‘He hasn’t caught on.’
“Cindy… Why?”
“I…” She looks to Malcolm, remembers what he told her about his encounter with Peck. “…What is it, that separates our gang from theirs? What quality?”
No one answers.
“…Decency. We don’t just, kill willy nilly - that’s what they do! They exploit, they expend, they traffic, they kill, but we, we’re better than that - we’re not ferocious predators, we’re, like, a business,” she looks to The Rip, “a family, even - I guess - anyway, we have morals, logic, decency- ”
“Are you suggesting we don’t kill him?” The Rip asks.
“Cindy, you have no idea what this man did,” says Alec.
“I didn’t say that,” Cindy tells The Rip, “all I’m saying is, if we’re to sentence him to the death penalty, the least we could do is…” She looks to Kelly. “Ask him what he wants for his last meal.”
This was one of the presents I brought them from Denmark. Uncontrollable laughter roared through the house for about half an hour.
Super excited for our first 2022 World Cup match between USA and Wales, and got caught laughing uncontrollably for some reason - if I could only remember why!
These are our latest discoveries since some time ago....
From this logical statistical point onwards, I guess it can help human beings forecast things more precisely and fast now.
Nothing is uncontrollable or predictable at all? Many things are possible & will be improved sooner or later through such kind of prediction…Right?
Have you ever tested such experiment or been making any mathematical calculations or estimation in your house or any highly polluted compound areas?
Our health is relied on the daily accumulation of valuable data & actual logical material figure. Therefore, does our life success also rely on the daily accumulation of valuable data & the earlier mentioned figure too.... it is not a nice game probably, but we have no other choice if we do not challenge further in order to accomplish our life further perfection, right? Do we have other better choice? I guess there isn't any short cut option probably. These are some of our daily prerequisite actions too.
神化的宇宙梦境-008-健康是靠我们每天里所累积的珍贵数据和数字，成功的人生与否也是靠我们每天里所累积的珍贵数据和数字。。。也许不好玩吧？？
我们有其它更美好的选择吗？
If you are interested to know better, kindly please refer to the simple video scene at: video.cctv.com/opus/178681.html
We used to keep accumulating all kinds of molecules and pollutant substances every second into our body silently via the perspiration process. Among these substances possibilities may include many unknown viruses and other categories as well. The main reason is this universe is full of too many mysterious items which beyond our forecast. Of course, the seriousness of pollutions may vary according to how polluted or how hygienic the situation of a particular place.
Have we ever controlled these problems? Can we minimize the unwanted harmful particles?
How can we get rid of such problems cheaply? In fact, I am sure we can understand such problems via the mathematical calculations clearly and fast from the valuable information data as shown above.
Do we still dare to counter attack such problems? Can we bet our life that we will be able to live in a minimum virus and pollution condition spontaneously? It can not be denied that many people used to work or visit smelly fish or meat stalls environment no matter even in the indoor hypermarkets or at the outdoor compound areas, stuffy factories or suffocated massive population density area such as during the schools general meeting & or many grand official general meetings, unhygienic toilets and etc. irritating places frequently everyday. All these pollution matters can not be solved logically if we never make certain stern compulsory actions.
Further more, we must understand clearly how to distinguish that cool enough environment which generated by air-conditioned is not secured enough as these equipments can not filtered viruses or unwanted particles effectively too normally.
Don't simply let ourselves trapped in between such kind of highly dangerous polluted area often; other wise they may affect our health status easily day after day and time after time. It must be too mysterious if they will not affect our health status.
Since someone has invented certain electrical device which can allow us to minimize the virus and pollutant count effectively? If not mistaken it can release10,000,000,000,000,000 ion/second, this means it can neutralize up to 10,000,000,000,000,000 cations/second instantly.
根据科学的异性相吸实际原理，每种份子拥有自己的个性。当每种正离子份子在它们自己本身适当的温度之下遇上负离子时，将会马上如磁铁般产生变化相吸在一起, 沉淀。
由于这个可爱的原理，人们将能摆脱不必要的尘埃问题。。然而，这
还是不够全面的。因为，空气里还带有无数的细菌。对于臭气熏天以及可恶的细菌及其它的废气和化学物呢， 人们如何可以以经济的方式处理呢？ 唯有透过更加广泛性的适当科学原理。例如：透过更加广泛的空气清理器。
只要人类明白了美丽的异性相吸实际原理，加上以上那么清楚及有效的数据论点与99%有效的产品保证 ；相信人类将会大力推广类似原理，快捷的为社会解决到更多的环境问题。
Based on our scientific research and development nowadays, although we need to neutralize uncountable quantity of unknown positive metallic ions, viruses and unknown microorganism especially, it doesn’t mean we can apply too powerful kinds of such devices. The important reason here is excessive voltage or radial reaction supply probably may damage our human body’s internal tissue probably.
We have to choose the adequate electrical consumption supply kinds of equipments only. We must be careful always what brand and what products we shall choose. Brutal choice and stubborn actions may lead to adverse life impact and life happiness consequently.
Shall we confirm and improve this beneficial fact further?
Isn’t it amazing enough if we can minimize our indoor air pollution problems by a simple touch yet under very cheap condition only for the long run? Just imagine if the electrical consumption cost for such smart device is only at around RM5/month. In other words it costs less than RM0.20/day only, isn’t it worthwhile for us to challenge? Prevention is better than cure definitely..
According to such kind of companies nowadays, their products are complied with the rules & regulations from MYIPO, FDA & and they have obtained many other certified reliable laboratory test accreditation s too.
I think we have to take such kind of logical action no matter how; otherwise our life journey will be just like that forever. That is that… Can you let it go then? I am sure you will not, since you have been equipped with so much of new knowledge input, experience, power and so on etc
Some of them are beneficial for our body, whereas others might be harmful enough. The consequences of these reasons may result many big issues besides other interlinking disadvantaged possibilities as well.
If we can't filter certain harmful particles out from our body easily, what consequences we may face? Can we depend our luck by praying hard only in this literate world? It must be too ridiculous then if based on the principle of " " Nothing Comes From Nothing "." and many relevant scientific rules and regulations nowadays. If this is not logical enough, then how? For those who are rich and alert enough may undergo various kinds of detoxifications methods regularly.
What about for the poor categories of people, don’t you think they also want to detoxify their body?
Are the current solutions reliable and cheap enough? Have their products been tested & proven working well? Is there any side effect if they choose excessive dosage and actions?
What rules & regulations our governments apply in order to safeguard our life? How they govern our countries?
Why can’t human beings prevent them in the first place? This world is too huge, and we are so tiny.... It brings us too many mysterious stories... The more we read, hear and see the more exciting & thrilling we may feel …. The consequences of certain experience making us sad or hard to bear sometimes…. Can’t we help our people get rid of certain possible problems intensively at least? Can’t we help our people to challenge for better condition ??? Can we extend our life span a little longer?
???? Too many unknown questions keep spinning in my head everyday ...and causing me exhausted and headache only sometimes...
Can any angels help in this world? Well ... they are many everywhere .... I am sure.
I strongly believe with today's technologies in this competitive era, true facts can defeat the fake one transparently fast.
anyway...just be confident...
Coming soon...
Cheapest In Town Antibiotic & Air Pollution Solution
The Youth Sangha came back better than ever! Nine bhaktis, eight days, lots of kirtan, a group art project and some uncontrollable laughter made up this year's Summer Sangha. Take a look at some of the highlights below!
bhaktimarga.org
The Youth Sangha came back better than ever! Nine bhaktis, eight days, lots of kirtan, a group art project and some uncontrollable laughter made up this year's Summer Sangha. Take a look at some of the highlights below!
bhaktimarga.org
Xpress It! Yasmin was the Bratz doll who started it all for me. Sometime during the fall of 2002 a friend of mine brought some of her dolls over to my house to play. While rifling through her doll container, I stumbled across a Bratz doll...Xpress It! Yasmin. I had seen Bratz before, but never paid them any mind. However, holding Yasmin was an entirely different experience from seeing her in stores behind cardboard and plastic. I played with Yasmin all afternoon, and by the time my friend went home, I knew I needed my very own. Yasmin had struck a chord with me in an unexpected, special way. To this day, I've never felt the same way towards any other type of doll. One weekend, Dad took me to KB Toys and let me pick out my very own Yasmin doll. Even though KB had several different types of Yasmin dolls stocked, I wanted Xpress It! Yasmin. Little did I know, that one Yasmin doll would start an uncontrollable addiction that would return when I was nineteen. I still remember struggling to open Yasmin's box in the passenger seat of my mom's old car. I vividly recall smelling her saran hair and being in complete awe at the sheer quality of her clothing. Yasmin's large head, snap on feet, massive facial features, and non existent nose made her jarring to look at. But in a way, her "ugliness" was what drew me towards her and in the end, it's what made me find her far more beautiful than any other doll.
Yasmin was not only the original Bratz doll in my collection. Over the years, various Yasmin dolls have come to represent a series of "firsts" for me in terms of my doll collection. My eleven year old self originally intended to only have one of each Bratz character. But it was Style It! Yasmin who broke the rule. She was the first repeated Bratz character I owned. Ironically, she was also the first duplicated Bratz doll in my collection. In 2011, I got another Style It! Yasmin doll from the flea market in a lot (she's the doll in the photo above). 2002 Strut It! Yasmin is actually my most duplicated doll of all 2,200 plus in my collection right now--I currently have eight (she's even beat Malibu Barbie who used to have the title...I have six of her). Ironically, Xpress It! Yasmin was not only my first Bratz doll ever, but I also believe she was the first boxed Bratz doll I got secondhand. I can't remember for sure, but I believe I found my second Xpress It! lady before my Funk 'N' Glow Meygan at a yard sale during the fall of 2011. Granted, it's been so many years that my memory is fuzzier than it was at the time. As a teenager, I stopped collecting dolls altogether for five years. When I initially encountered pictures of the 10th anniversary Bratz dolls online when I was nineteen, I planned to buy Jade. However, when faced with the decision at my local Walmart, I actually ended up choosing Yasmin instead. 10/10/10 Yasmin was my very first brand new doll I bought from the store as an adult. It had been five years since I had bought any doll from a store, so she was quite significant in terms of my collection. It should also be noted that my actual first Bratz doll that I purchased as an adult was 2003 Slumber Party Yasmin though. She was also my very first second hand Bratz because growing up, Bratz dolls were really too new to be around at flea markets. I wasn't planning on adding any Bratz to my childhood collection, but I simply couldn't resist Slumber Party Yas--I always wanted her since I was eleven or twelve.
Other than my childhood Xpress It! Yasmin, it is my 2012 Bratz Boutique girl who shaped my Bratz collection most of all. She opened my eyes to all the wonders of the post 2010 Bratz dolls. From 2011 to 2012, I hadn't purchased too many Bratz from the store. I suppose I wasn't ready to come to terms with the fact that the Bratz brand had evolved since 2002. That was how I felt until the day I met Bratz Boutique Yasmin at my local Kmart. I don't really remember why my sister and I stopped in at Kmart that afternoon, but I had no intention of buying any dolls. I spotted the newly released Bratz Boutique dolls sitting on the lowest shelf of the toy aisle. I remember stooping down and having a look at them. Something about Yasmin caught my eye right away. It was the first time I had felt like a child again while holding a "new" Bratz doll. She was simply the most gorgeous Yasmin doll I had ever seen...not to mention, I was blown away by the extra stuff she came with. I debated over buying her for probably a good twenty minutes. Eventually I came to terms with the fact that I physically could not leave Yasmin there. I felt guilty counting out the $26 for her, but I couldn't walk away without her coming home. After opening Yasmin when we returned home, I realized that she was everything I thought she would be and so much more. Somehow, Yasmin flipped a switch inside me that day because I felt like I was seeing the "new" Bratz with a fresh pair of eyes. I was suddenly infatuated with them all...I even learned to deeply appreciate the post 2010 Bratz dolls I already had. I've never looked back since that day--as a doll collector, Bratz Boutique Yasmin made a special place in my heart for all generations of dolls, not just Bratz!
Confessions Installations
With his installations, Arik confesses, bares his soul and invites us to do the same. His starting point is the observation that most Parisian couples end up divorcing and that building a life as a couple is an extremely fragile enterprise. Failure to communicate well is often at the root of this problem. Taboos and unspoken truths eat away at a couple’s harmonious existence. Confessions allow this trust to be rebuilt. Driven by an “uncontrollable muscle”, Arik Levy surfs a tsunami of ideas, that swallows up every preconceived notion in its path. He offers us a new perspective on our environment and the issues of intimacy; through this quest, devoid of safeguards, he raises the essential problem of our truth.
Slott | Exquise design
12 rue du Château Landon 75010 Paris
M° Château Landon-Gare de lʼEst-Louis Blanc
Love,
Exquise crew
Slott | Exquise design
12 rue du Château Landon 75010 Paris
M° Château Landon-Gare de lʼEst-Louis Blanc
flickr.com/photos/exquisedesign
coroflot.com/exquisedesign
©Florian Kleinefenn
Exhibition “Preliminaries”: design at the threshold of love.
As an extension of a project on the theme of love, Slott gallery
and Exquise Design® have invited four designers to play out
their fantasies, giving shape and meaning, breathing life into their
conceptions of preliminaries. They have approached this subject
from different and complementary viewpoints that together offer
a panorama of creation like no other seen before.
Arik Levy unveils his work on the spoken and the unspoken of
intimate relations with his series of installations entitled “Confessions”
that includes, among other elements, an examination of
the iconography of sexuality alongside a kind of modern home
confessional. As the theme of the exhibition required that contributions
be solicited from both male and female designers in equal
measure, it is fascinating to observe the ways in which, by sharing
their visions, they complete and engage each other.
matali crasset and Florence Jaffrain carry us away to underwater paradises
with their respective works “Aequorea” and “Belly Love”, creating
soft and sensual shapes that run up against Mathieu Lehanneur’s
torrid yet petrified flames in his “The Power of Love”.
Visitors will also be struck by the singular visions of the four
designers, each of which offers a completely different approach
to objects. With his Confessions, Arik Levy makes the object a
tool for communication, standing in for the fears and concerns
we often find it so difficult to voice. Straddling the boundaries of
design and architecture, matali crasset approaches the object
as a space. Mathieu Lehanneur, working from a more sculptural
perspective, raises the object to the heights of allegory (of the
couple), at the same time endowing it with a mediating role.
Last but not least, Florence Jaffrain tends to make the object an end
in itself, by creating a sofa that might almost be perceived as
playing the role of the lover, becoming an object of desire.
Equise Design | Design Loft
Flickr Advent group: www.flickr.com/groups/2770282@N23/pool/
During the Jazz Age:
LaVern: "Some of the shows I did back in the '20s could get a bit silly. This is a picture of an act where I was supposed to be able to look into the Christmas ornament and tell the future and contact people 'on the other side.' I had to take questions from the audience--except the audience wasn't supposed to know that people were hired to be the ones whose questions I answered."
"After a few shows, we scrapped it. I was no fortune-teller or a Houdini and one time, I just broke out laughing at the question a man asked about his 'dead' wife--who, in fact, was a dancer in the show. If you're telepathic, you probably don't start laughing uncontrollably at what you're sensing. Anyway, I said either we make that segment a comedy skit or we drop it. So that was the end of that!"
Confessions Installations
With his installations, Arik confesses, bares his soul and invites us to do the same. His starting point is the observation that most Parisian couples end up divorcing and that building a life as a couple is an extremely fragile enterprise. Failure to communicate well is often at the root of this problem. Taboos and unspoken truths eat away at a couple’s harmonious existence. Confessions allow this trust to be rebuilt. Driven by an “uncontrollable muscle”, Arik Levy surfs a tsunami of ideas, that swallows up every preconceived notion in its path. He offers us a new perspective on our environment and the issues of intimacy; through this quest, devoid of safeguards, he raises the essential problem of our truth.
Slott | Exquise design
12 rue du Château Landon 75010 Paris
M° Château Landon-Gare de lʼEst-Louis Blanc
Love,
Exquise crew
Slott | Exquise design
12 rue du Château Landon 75010 Paris
M° Château Landon-Gare de lʼEst-Louis Blanc
flickr.com/photos/exquisedesign
coroflot.com/exquisedesign
©Florian Kleinefenn
Exhibition “Preliminaries”: design at the threshold of love.
As an extension of a project on the theme of love, Slott gallery
and Exquise Design® have invited four designers to play out
their fantasies, giving shape and meaning, breathing life into their
conceptions of preliminaries. They have approached this subject
from different and complementary viewpoints that together offer
a panorama of creation like no other seen before.
Arik Levy unveils his work on the spoken and the unspoken of
intimate relations with his series of installations entitled “Confessions”
that includes, among other elements, an examination of
the iconography of sexuality alongside a kind of modern home
confessional. As the theme of the exhibition required that contributions
be solicited from both male and female designers in equal
measure, it is fascinating to observe the ways in which, by sharing
their visions, they complete and engage each other.
matali crasset and Florence Jaffrain carry us away to underwater paradises
with their respective works “Aequorea” and “Belly Love”, creating
soft and sensual shapes that run up against Mathieu Lehanneur’s
torrid yet petrified flames in his “The Power of Love”.
Visitors will also be struck by the singular visions of the four
designers, each of which offers a completely different approach
to objects. With his Confessions, Arik Levy makes the object a
tool for communication, standing in for the fears and concerns
we often find it so difficult to voice. Straddling the boundaries of
design and architecture, matali crasset approaches the object
as a space. Mathieu Lehanneur, working from a more sculptural
perspective, raises the object to the heights of allegory (of the
couple), at the same time endowing it with a mediating role.
Last but not least, Florence Jaffrain tends to make the object an end
in itself, by creating a sofa that might almost be perceived as
playing the role of the lover, becoming an object of desire.
Equise Design | Design Loft
The Youth Sangha came back better than ever! Nine bhaktis, eight days, lots of kirtan, a group art project and some uncontrollable laughter made up this year's Summer Sangha. Take a look at some of the highlights below!
bhaktimarga.org
These are our latest discoveries since some time ago....
From this logical statistical point onwards, I guess it can help human beings forecast things more precisely and fast now.
Nothing is uncontrollable or predictable at all? Many things are possible & will be improved sooner or later through such kind of prediction…Right?
Have you ever tested such experiment or been making any mathematical calculations in your house or any where?
Our health is relied on the daily accumulation of valuable data & figure, does our life success also rely on the daily accumulation of valuable data & figure too.... it is not a nice game probably, but we have no other choice if we do not challenge further, right? Do we have other better choice?
神化的宇宙梦境-008-健康是靠我们每天里所累积的珍贵数据和数字，成功的人生与否也是靠我们每天里所累积的珍贵数据和数字。。。也许不好玩吧？？
我们有其它更美好的选择吗？
If you are interested to know better, kindly please refer to the video at: video.cctv.com/opus/178681.html
We used to keep accumulating all kinds of molecules and pollutant substances every second into our body silently via perspiration process. Among these substances possibilities may include many unknown viruses and other categories as well. The main reason is this universe is full of too many mysterious items which beyond our forecast. Of course, the seriousness of pollutions varies according to how polluted or how hygienic the situation of a particular place.
Have we ever controlled these problems? Can we minimize them?
How can we get rid of such problems cheaply? In fact, I am sure we can resist such problems via mathematical calculations clearly and fast via the valuable information data as shown above.
Do we still dare to counter attack such problems? Can we bet our life that we will be able to live in a minimum virus and pollution condition spontaneously? It can not be denied that people used to work or visit smelly fish or meat stalls environment no matter even in the indoor hypermarkets or at the outdoor compound areas, stuffy factories or massive population density area such as during the schools general meeting & many official general meetings, toilets and etc places usually everyday. All these pollution matters can not be solved logically if we never make a single change.
Since someone has invented certain electrical device which can allow us to minimize the virus and pollutant count effectively? If not mistaken it can release10,000,000,000,000,000 ion/second, this means it can neutralize up to 10,000,000,000,000,000 cations/second instantly.
在我们美丽的世界里，我们的科学家暂时已经发现了103种不同的份子。当中，科学家把他们分成4类物体。
第一种为正离子
负离子，
根据科学的异性相吸实际原理，每种份子拥有自己的个性。当某种正离子份子在它们自己本身适当的温度之下遇上负离子时，将会马上如磁铁般产生变化相吸在一起, 沉淀。
由于这个可爱的原理，人们将能摆脱无数不必要的尘埃污染问题。。然而，这
还是不够全面的。因为，空气里还带有无数的细菌。对于臭气熏天以及可恶的细菌及其它的废气和化学物呢， 人们如何可以以经济的方式处理呢？ 唯有透过更加广泛性的适当科学原理。例如：透过更加广泛性的空气清理器。
只要人类明白了美丽的异性相吸实际原理，加上以上那么清楚及有效的数据论点；相信人类将会大力推广类似原理，快捷的为社会解决到更多的环境问题。
Based on our scientific research and development nowadays, although we need to neutralize uncountable quantity of unknown positive metallic ions, viruses and unknown microorganism especially, it doesn’t mean we can apply too powerful kinds of such devices. The important reason here is excessive voltage or radial reaction supply probably may damage our human body’s internal tissue probably.
We have to choose the adequate electrical consumption supply kinds of equipments only. We must be careful always what brand and what products we shall choose. Brutal choice and actions may lead to adverse life impact and life happiness consequently.
Shall we confirm and improve this beneficial fact further?
Isn’t it amazing enough if we can minimize our indoor air pollution problems by a simple touch yet under very cheap condition only for the long run? Just imagine if the electrical consumption cost for such smart device is only at around RM5/month. In other words it costs less than RM0.20/day only, isn’t it worthwhile for us to challenge? Prevention is better than cure definitely..
According to such company, their products are complied with the rules & regulations from MYIPO, FDA & and they have obtained many other certified laboratory test accreditation s too.
I think we have to take such kind of logical action no matter how; otherwise our life journey will be just like that forever. That is that… Can you let it go then? I am sure you will not, since you have been equipped with so much knowledge, experience, and power and so on etc
Some of them are beneficial for our body, whereas others might be harmful enough. The consequences of these reasons may result many big issues besides other interlinking disadvantaged possibilities as well.
If we can't filter certain harmful particles out from our body easily, what consequences we may face? Can we depend our luck by praying hard only in this literate world? It must be too ridiculous then if based on the principle of " Nothing Comes From Nothing ". If not, how? For those who are rich enough might be quite alert to undergo various kinds of detoxifications methods regularly.
What about for the poor categories of people, don’t you think they also want to detoxify their body?
Are the current solutions reliable and cheap enough? Have their products been tested & proven working well? Is there any side effect?
What rules & regulations our governments apply? How they govern our countries?
Why can’t human beings prevent them in the first place? This world is too huge, and we are so tiny.... It brings us too many mysterious stories... The more we read, hear and see the more exciting & thrilling we feel …. The consequences of certain experience making us sad and hard to bear sometimes…. Can’t we help our people get rid of certain possible problems? Can’t we help our people to challenge for better condition ???
???? Too many unknown questions keep spinning in my head everyday ...and causing me exhausted and headache only sometimes...
Can any angels help in this world? Well, I am sure many will help so.
I strongly believe with today's technologies in this competitive era and economy crisis meltdown situation especially, true facts can defeat the fake one transparently fast.
Please be confident...
Coming soon...
Cheapest In Town Antibiotic & Air Pollution Solution
I had been by this place a hundred times in the last 20+ years, often on foot, many times on the 21A to/from work at United Hospital. Finally stopped in on a whim. Not bad. They're not an upscale snooty restaurant, but hey, I like upscale snooty food. And that sign's a winner.
Question: Russell says Devo had a press conference here back in the early 80's. Is there any possibility that story's true?
He was professional wrestler born in France, but also very good poet and writer who could speak 14 different languages. Tillet was born in 1903, and as a teenager he manifested a rare disease called acromegaly, which causes his bones to grow uncontrollably. That didn’t stop him in pursing his goals. He moved to USA and become known as a pro wrestler called the “freak ogre of the ring”.
my project is now under the critical period with uncontrollable issues. So I want to post something sweet to cheer myself up a bit ;P. Hope you all have a good day