Moon cakes

Greetings,

Today is the Mid-autumn festival. Humans celebrate the legendary flight of Chang Er to the moon where she lives and plays music. In fact, we recently enjoyed moments with her and she's looking great and working on new orchestral compositions.

Today families eat moon cakes, sing songs, young people fall in love and poets write moon words.

Speaking of writing, one billion people on Earth cannot read. We face a drastic literacy challenge and Google has started a literacy site, linked below.

The initiative makes available electronic learning tools, book clubs, children's books, and information on reading projects, video clips and networking sites.

Check it out.

Peace.

The Literacy Project

Lanting and Life Through Time

Greetings,

Frans Lanting is regarded as one of the finest nature photographers.

We discovered his amazing "Life Through Time" slideshow, linked below. 86 incredible images filled with magic, mystery and stunning vision.

Feel free to learn about the evolution of life on planet Earth and enjoy his passionate art.

Peace.

Life Through Time

Two hunters

Greetings,

He wrode his beautiful dirty black mountain bike over to "old" student street for a 60 cent dumpling lunch. Delicious.

He prefers the "old" to the boring "new" commercial student campus street. He enjoys mature green leafy trees filled with small wild sparrows darting down to feed in garden patches. He savors a wide blue sky and orphaned clouds.

He always sits outside swallowing sky, well removed from blaring omnipresent bland TV soap operas and cell phone addicted youth.

"Text me baby! Reveal your passion in 5,000 characters. Say things with electronic letters and symbols you'd never find the courage to speak outloud. Your silence is deafening! Hold my hand.

"Better yet, when we walk covered in our innocent adolescent shyness, slowly rub your elbow against my skin so I know you care, reveal your shy desire with deference and longing. Our skin pours hormonal activity into the possibility we may eventually dance. Text me baby!"

A boy approached the table.

"May I sit here?"
"Sure."
"May I talk with you?"
"Sure. You talk and I listen."
"I don't know what to say."
"You will think of something. You are developing an English mind."
"Yes, maybe."

"What's your name?"
"Francis."
"That's a great name."
"All the good English names were taken by my classmates. I found it in the dictionary."
"I see. It's a fine and strong name. My name is Nature."

"Oh. What's that for?" he said, gesturing at my worn Moleskine notebook.
"I am a writer. I make notes when I travel."
"Where are you going?"
"Here."
"I like to travel," he said. "I am a hunter of foreign teachers."

I smelled raw instinct. "Interesting. How do you hunt?"
"Do you know the gate near the teachers' apartments?"

This place was surrounded by walls, sleeping guards and gates.

"Yes."
"Well, I go there and wait. When a teacher comes out I talk to them while we walk. Then, when they say good-bye I return to the gate and wait for another teacher."
"You are a clever hunter."
"Maybe. But I don't know what to say."

"Talk about the weather."
"We don't talk about the weather here. We ask people if they have eaten."
"I know," I said, pointing at his noodles and sliced vegetables. "Your delicious food is getting cold."

Silence welcomed two hunters.

Peace.