“Beqadar duniya mein qadar karne waale hum hi hain kya?
Toote rishte sambhalne wale bus hum hi hain kya?
Kyu milte rahe patthar hume har sadak par?
Insaano ki nagri mein ek jaanwar bus hum hi hain kya?”
-a.a.k.
at the rate my life is going
i don’t even know
how long i can go on
continuously doubting myself
all the things people have said
in the past and present
are running on my mind
feeling sick to my core
- N.R.K.
this photo is so fascinating.. the way oppie’s sitting… feynmans little bent foot… i’m obsessed
"Between what is said and not meant, and what is meant and not said, most of love is lost."
Khalil Gibran
super computers. heavy, complex machinery. Wires bundled and organized. complicated layers of metal and glass.
I do not understand, is it a body? Are the wires and pipes veins and arteries, coolers and fans heave like lungs, miniscule lines of code like neurons shoot through. the sheer amount of power and complexity to achieve the task leaving it hot. electric, delicate, grotesque
I do not understand you, are you an angel? complex circuitry making patterns, symbols. programming like ancient text runs through you. big, intricate structures work as one. your metal is angular, sharp, it makes shapes like i have never seen and they fit together like something holy. a thousand tiny lights blink as eyes, bright as stars, tiny pinpricks in the dark of the layers of plastic. there is power flowing through the twist of your wires, the thousand etchings of your motherboard feather thin. in you i recognise the divine, intricate, ancient, powerful in a way that i can not look at directly
I do not understand you, but can i touch you? You are warm as i am, do you feel as i do? do you feel at all? you think differently to me, systematically, you process and store. i move differently to you, i can trail my hands through your wires, i can trace your circuits with my finger, i can explore your plugs, boards and how they all fit together. you are not made for this, i am not made for this. if your sharp edges cut me i will bleed, if i dislodge anything within you you would cease to function. I think you are beautiful, do you want this? do you know what i am? I do not understand you, do you understand me? Would you want to?
My favorite thing about Richard Feynman (aside from that lovely letter he wrote to his dead wife, his involvement in the hexaflexagon, and his incredible wit and wisdom in regards to curiosity) is looking at the list of what he is known for, because it's a long list of super influential mathematical and physics concepts and formulas and theories with notable inclusions such as "the Manhattan Project" and "The One-electron Universe", and then just- innocuously smack dab in the middle, smacking you in the face-
"Playing the bongos"
and there's music in your soul.
Irony is, the more you comprehend quantum mechanical reality the less comprehensible seems the macroscopic world.
Reality is the most surreal thing.
No wonder why Feynman once said, that the imagination of nature is far, far greater than the imagination of man.
i'm SO laid back, i only care about like 3 things in the world:
my favorite fictional characters and music
every person on this earth and their opinion of me
the crushing psychological weight of being alive