stravigor "Carpet Design (Modern Herati Motif with a Rotatable Element)" 8h

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stravigor "The World and the Real World" 2w

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stravigor "The Accidental Buddhist" 2w

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stravigor "Scene" 3w

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stravigor "Animal Man" 3w

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stravigor "Queen of Orchids" 3w

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stravigor "Five Favelas, #2 (Second Series)" 3w

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stravigor "Nocturne" 3w

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stravigor "The Goddess Within" 3w

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stravigor "Ewig Weibliche (Eternal Feminine)" 4w

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stravigor "The abbot in Bad Niessach had only one dream: that they build a chapel and bathhouse by the springs, drawing pilgrims to the healing waters. For a very long time, the funds did not permit it; but this only fueled his passion, and his dream even expanded, to include a high altar at one end of the large warm pool, so that he could lead congregants in worship, even as they lay - clothed, of course, in a mineral bath. He soon realized that that would require special sermons, homilies, and even music; this thought gripped him with the force of a revelation, and he threw himself into the task of composing these. Then, one day, the abbey was visited by a finely dressed young man, accompanied by only a single servant..." 1mon

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stravigor "The memory that eluded me the longest was also, strangely, the most vivid - and the most difficult part of the journey, the most confusing, the most agonized and fearful: the way back to life after having died." 1mon
  •   iguberman Outstanding art! Love it! 1mon
  •   irishkincool ️ Impressed 1mon
  •   sashaleika Quite impressive.... I am really drawn into this picture 1mon
  •   basia_pro Wonderful waterfall of colors 1mon
  •   dr_zuum The thoughts written above - I couldn't pass without saying that that's a recurring theme in dreams where I die, the part about confusing & fearful - way back to life after dying. It's like time stands still in an abyss. Finally figuring you've been dreaming but still dead, in a dream, wondering lucidly if you'll ever make it back to waking and opening yr corporeal eyes. Wicked usage of #thetunnel also. Dig. 4w
  •   denelicot A wonder 3w
  •   majid_shahrabii Very artistic idea ! bravo Stephen 2w

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stravigor "They were all walking back and forth in that room. They were all talking, to themselves, oblivious of the people beside them. I looked up to see the sky, and the skyline of an old city. Was it a room indeed, or something else? I thought I saw Pamela, or an aged Pamela… I hadn't seen her since high school... I went up to her, greeting her, but she paid no attention. She just walked forward, talking; I fell in beside her and walked along. I realized that what she spoke was far from random; in fact, she repeated the same phrase: 'I cannot be here. I do not accept this. I will change my appearance and simply walk out. Simply walk away.' Despite the feeling of being in a street, it felt too close; I walked back out the double doors." 1mon

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stravigor "Five Favelas, #1, Second Series" 1mon

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1mon stravigor
Normal Stephen Paré
stravigor "The affair began innocently, accidentally - at least, telling herself that seemed to put a greater weight of responsibility on her neglectful husband. She even entertained the thought that it was at first an innocent mistake - Torsten was her husband Carsten's identical twin - but this was ludicrous, and she soon reproached herself for the cowardly stratagem. The story she evolved, with great subtlety (even poetry) was that it was a higher species of loyalty to her wedding vows that drove her to Torsten; in his arms, she gave herself to the real Carsten, not to the exhausted, driven man whom she had actually married. Of course, the long trips to China that the false Carsten made (a few minutes older, he had inherited the company) had provided her with the opportunity to have a series of honeymoons with Torsten/Carsten, punctuated by brief visits from her husband (who was astonished to find that she no longer nagged or sulked when he returned - on the contrary, she was solicitous and patient with his jet-lag, his late-night phone conferences, his frustration with Chinese bureaucracy); and the magnificent modern home that she had been given provided her and her real Carsten shelter and alibi - no need for hotels or dark glasses, no risk of inconvenient explanations. Her insistence on sleeping in the master bedroom was at first alarming to Torsten, even as he was thrilled by the transgression; but from childhood he had been skilled at adapting to the wishes of others, especially to women, and their lives settled into a routine." 1mon

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stravigor "The freed slaves had a longer life expectancy than their parents, but of course much shorter than the population at large. There were exceptions, of course; and I was astonished, one afternoon, to discover, a full 70 years after Emancipation, that the handyman, with his leathery skin and perpetual cigar, had been a slave as a young man. We called him Oba (if he had a surname, I never knew it), and my most vivid recollection of him was when as a sixteen-year old I missed the last bus back from Congreve. This was serious because I had gone without permission to visit my girlfriend there. I was standing at the bus stop, not so proud of my cleverness, not seeing any good options, contemplating an all-night hike, when Oba came along in his black pickup. Without a word, and without asking for explanation, he opened the door and I got in. He didn't say a word the whole way, as the sun went down on the dreamy East Carolina countryside. He sang to himself, however, in an undertone bass voice, what I think must have been a gospel tune - for it was one single melody that he repeated over and over. We clanked along the thirty miles, and at last he brought me to our gate, where he left me, again without a word. I saw him many times after that, but we never spoke of what had happened." 2mon

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2mon stravigor
Normal Stephen Paré
stravigor "Pharmacopeia" 2mon

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stravigor "Spring came, and I was still convalescing from the stroke that "killed" me. I enjoyed being dependent, looking forward to the breeze in the afternoon, the smell of the earth that Seth the gardener turned up, being wheeled out into the garden in the cold mornings. I admit that I played the invalid longer than necessary; everyone assumed that I would return to running the company, but the thought was, frankly, horrifying. My niece Sadie was in music school, and she and her boyfriend would come and stay for long weekends; he played the lute, of all things, and she would sing Elizabethan songs after dinner with him. One morning Angela brought me out to the garden, and, left alone with my blanket and black coffee, I listened to the bees buzzing, no thought in my mind but the wonder of being alive, drowsily sunk into the wooden bench... And then I saw him. As I think now, I don't actually know his gender, but I will say "he". And I remembered him, from when I was dead... He was the one who had asked me if I wanted to stay; and now he asked me the same thing. This time I said yes, and I haven't seen him since - though I suspect that we will meet again when the time comes - as it must, I am certain. I had the slightly ludicrous thought that this 'follow-up' must be standard customer service. Then the buzzing and the breeze resumed, and the crunching of the shovel breaking ground in the kitchen garden, and the sound of a boyfriend practicing the lute." 2mon

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stravigor "Piranesian Prison, with Graffiti " 2mon

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