there is just one day every winter, when the second snow comes. on that day, the sky is white, the ground is white, and the branches are white. and the wide world suddenly is limpid, lucid, transparent. only the dark undersides of the branches point us upwards.

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evil never falls alone

the balrog* falls from the bridge in moria to its doom, and gandalf falls with it. the evil never falls alone. it always – always takes the good down with it. and then for a moment the good is down, and the evil is gone. it is in those moments, that hope becomes the frailest. […]

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ieraudzīju busā pieturas nosaukumu. Zigfrīda Annas Meierovica bulvāris. lai to parādītu, busa kompim vajadzēja vairākus paņēmienus. cik neizsakāmi inteliģenti. Posted by Wordmobi

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export of non-culture

The city is so strange. Especially now when summer is thank god departing. Some days ago I walked thru the Old City, and saw those Brits. And they were an unsightly thing. From somewhere East London, judging by their accents. Drunk. Nearly naked. One of them was trying to put on a girl’s dress. I […]

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Green white green

Why do they think that log houses look cool and ethnic? Or maybe they have found some use for the timber resources of this country? Yet, looking at the pseudo-ethnic buildings in no architectural style i cannot stop wondering about taste and sanity of those that find THIS exciting. The mass obsession with worship of […]

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Greyscale Riga

Looking out of the window. The city is greyscale. The streets are leaden-grey, the cars – all shades of oyster. The sun shines through those sulphur-grey clouds like a pearly eye, blind with cataract. The air has a tinge of iron in it. Maybe this is because of the early morning dusk. Maybe, because it […]

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