Mr. Utterson the lawyer was a man of a rugged countenance that was never lighted by a smile; cold, scanty and embarrassed in discourse; backward in sentiment; lean, long, dusty, dreary and yet somehow lovable. At friendly meetings, and when the wine was to his taste, something eminently human beaconed from his eye; something indeed which never found its way into his talk, but which spoke not only in these silent symbols of the after-dinner face, but more often and loudly in the acts of his life. He was austere with himself; drank gin when he was alone, to mortify a taste for vintages; and though he enjoyed the theatre, had not crossed the doors of one for twenty years.
Don’t you miss the days when you manually picked a cd or a vinyl album to play, or a mixtape you carefully put together, rather than having The Algorithm play a ‘mood’ for you? The physical act of putting a cartridge into a playback device, it had something magical. The simple push of a button. No fumbling for a password, no interruption from a Windows update, no keyboard, no loading times. But, unfortunately, all your music is in the cloud nowadays. That wretched cloud, taking the fun out of music, with its stupid infinite storage. Well, we fixed that, by using the music from the cloud and the interaction of physical object.
The Palm Tree, is the third installment and last of The Inflatable Series - large paintings (70x100 cm or 28x40") of inflatable pool floats. The first being The Flamingo, the second The Swan. The Palm Tree concludes the series that is meant to give a summery feel. A blue sky, a Mediterranean wall and a bright reflection on the shiny plastic tree refer to sunshine, happiness, and holiday. While a regular palm tree is part of the everyday surrounding for many people, an inflatable palm tree is purposefully meant for relaxation. Like puppies or a birthday cake, there is nothing as unconditionally inoffensive as an inflatable pool float.
Every time I ascended to the deck from my watches below, I instantly gazed aft to mark if any strange face were visible; for my first vague disquietude touching the unknown captain, now in the seclusion of the sea, became almost a perturbation. This was strangely heightened at times by the ragged Elijah’s diabolical incoherences uninvitedly recurring to me, with a subtle energy I could not have before conceived of. But poorly could I withstand them, much as in other moods I was almost ready to smile at the solemn whimsicalities of that outlandish prophet of the wharves.
“Yes, my youngest is not sixteen. Perhaps _she_ is full young to be much in company. But really, ma’am, I think it would be very hard upon younger sis
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