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The Italian city of Bologna is preparing for one of its iconic towers, built more than 900 years ago, to collapse due to excessive leaning.
The Tower of Garisenda, twinned by the nearby Asinelli Tower, is one of Bologna’s hallmark sights, standing at just over 150 feet tall. But it has been leaning since at least the 14th century when the top 32 feet of the building were removed in an attempt to stabilize it.
Continue readingThe Elusive Beauty of Imperfection
In a few words, one could say that wabi sabi is the beauty of imperfect things. Of course, that would be overly simplistic explanation for such a deep and profoundly rooted notion in the Japanese spirit. Something between an artistic concept, a philosophy of life and a personal feeling, wabi sabi is everywhere in Japanese culture.
In Japan, wabi sabi is imperceptible but everywhere: a crack on a teapot, the wood of an old door, green moss on a rock, a misty landscape, a distorted cup or the reflection of the moon on a pond.
In Wabi Sabi: The Japanese Art of Impermanence, Andrew Juniper defines wabi sabi as “an intuitive appreciation of ephemeral beauty in the physical world that reflects the irreversible flow of life in the spiritual world.”
Related to landscapes, objects and even human beings, the idea of wabi sabi can be understood as an appreciation of a beauty that is doomed to disappear, or even a ephemeral contemplation of something that becomes more beautiful as it ages, fades, and consequently acquires a new charm.
I’ve been sellin’ my soul, workin’ all day / Overtime hours for bullshit pay / So I can sit out here and waste my life away / Drag back home and drown my troubles away.
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It’s a damn shame what the world’s gotten to / For people like me and people like you / Wish I could just wake up and it not be true / But it is, oh, it is.
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Livin’ in the new world / With an old soul / These rich men north of Richmond / Lord knows they all just wanna have total control / Wanna know what you think, wanna know what you do / And they don’t think you know, but I know that you do / ‘Cause your dollar ain’t shit and it’s taxed to no end / ‘Cause of rich men north of Richmond.
I wish politicians would look out for miners / And not just minors on an island somewhere / Lord, we got folks in the street, ain’t got nothin’ to eat / And the obese milkin’ welfare.
Well, God, if you’re 5-foot-3 and you’re 300 pounds / Taxes ought not to pay for your bags of fudge rounds / Young men are puttin’ themselves six feet in the ground / ‘Cause all this damn country does is keep on kickin’ them down.
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Repeat Chorus
I’ve been sellin’ my soul, workin’ all day / Overtime hours for bullshit pay.