Reading response Einstein’s dream (14 April 1905)

The entry of the 14^th of April 1905 from Einstein’s Dreams talks about life as a cycle.

It describes repetitively how every single moment in everyone’s life is to be repeated in a never-ending circle. Only dreams hint this true to a few that are unhappy. The description represents a particular type of person following their narrative lives and the way they unfold to then repeat again.  Unique moments of life looping.

“Suppose time is a circle, vending back on itself. The world repeats itself, precisely, endlessly”

This reading falls into a repetitive narrative that yet has an end that leads you into a thoughtful and solitary feeling of uncertainty. The reading leads me into a routinely feeling about life, moments, relativity. It can easily fall into tediousness, yet it cherishes the beauty of moments even when they might happen again.

When I have a Déjà vu I always feel like maybe I actually have lived that moment twice. In this life there is conversations we have again and again, and maybe I actually said the exact same words or did the same actions. Regardless of the life cycles and the dreams and reality, water flows without knowing it’ll come to the same river because like Heraclitus said "We both step and do not step in the same rivers. We are and are not."

Observing the ordinary poem

If the grass reflects the blue

and winter and flowers

Are around

and the sun rays

in the sky

above me are subtly overexposing my eyes,

if this quiet afternoon

surrenders tender light

before I fall sleep

cloves suspending me

and palm trees fanning me

  I will sink into the ground

  I will levitate like clouds

  I will be all things around

If I rest like this for longer

my self will disappear,

environmental metamorphosis.

Who shall say I was here, not

the ant under the leaf. 

Five easy pieces poem

Her hands are cold and boney, large and graceful yet strong and resistant. Her pores are expansions, they breathe. No ornament on them, natural, talkative characters.

She makes bread, perfect warm bread.

Chaotic green canvas of knowledge.

Is she happy amongst the paint and plants?

I miss her.

Dream- scape

The moon was up and shinning. It gave light enough for us to see our transparent bodies walking through the glittery sand. Everything else where shadows, hues of gray that vanished with the night. The reflections of the water where silver sparkles. Peaceful ripples, inviting yet obscure and mysterious randomly shinned moving stars. We entered the water quietly. Our bodies were subtly covered by fluorescent dots that traveled wound our skin like liquid light ants, swimming fireflies, microscopical radiant bacteria.

The phytoplankton took over us. Our pores merged with the night. We were the night sky, our hair was alive with shooting stars. Mortal fluorescent mermaids. 

Reading response to Einstein's Dream: Prologue

 The prologue of Einstein’s dreams consist on a descriptive piece of the office of a young man and the several happenings of that same time somewhere else. All this flashes of other short stories only shadow what happens in that office at that time, making the description richer, but also less precise. As light touches different objects on the room giving visibility the story comes to an end; closing with a confused dream about time.

“Out of many possible natures of time, imagined in many other nights, one seems compelling.”

The reading is not very precise, yet it starts making sense as we read further. I would say that one thing that the reading took for granted is the character description. We never know who the character is, and because of the title maybe the reading gave for granted the fact that we knew who the character is. The reading let me to a confused environment of dreams and uncertainty, but I as a reader did wanted to go there.

Photograph exercise

We were getting ready to return home after a relaxing and sunny time in the beach. We had everything ready to leave, we were just missing to say good bye to our friends and eat something before leaving. While we did this a man from the next town came to tell us that a thousand turtles were arriving to the beach for nesting and people was welcome to quietly observe that magical moment. 

Without hesitation, we went straight to the next beach to be present for that moment. Hundreds of little heads could be seen in the see, subtly looking out and breathing, rolling around the waves, walking slowly through the sand leaving patterns of legs dragging to release life.

They were waking all around me, I could hear their breath, I could see the details of their shells and faces, painfully realizing millions of eggs in the wholes they were digging tiredly. Thousand of miles traveling the sea, to arrive to that precise beach and nest. Out of the hundred eggs each turtle releases, only one reaches adulthood. Old turtles of wisdom giving birth to adventurous tiny turtles, they will swim the wide sea, longeve and serene.