Basbussa Bus

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picture this:

you’re in small road talking to a friend under a lamppost (nothing romantic about it except the lamppost itself); A noise catches your attention. You turn around and there’s a ball of fur, the size of a dog, which looks exactly like a person dressed up as a dog, rummaging through the trash. Then you look more closely and it’s actually a dog.

well, that really makes me laugh.

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

why would I write a prank obituary on a neighborhood website for a cat that never existed? why would i wanna make up details of how it died, of the car that hit it and about the man that finished him with a stick, and about how the whole neighborhood loved it, and about how sad and heartfelt the ceremony will be? Why?

It’s very simple. Because it makes me laugh to see it published togetehr with all the other news, and it doesn’t hurt anyone. And laughing is healthy. 

I am hiding from all my friends, starting … now!

that way I can begin writing my opera, called Gustavo Cuordimele. It’s a medieval musical about this dethroned prince who wanders around in the European Middle Ages. Lots of tapdancing, choirs, and flips in the air. Daniel will be the first dancer and choreographer. Love, of course. Hatred and murder. Lots of medieval fruits, such as apples. it’s not fame i’m after. I want to write a show i can dance to from the beginning to the end.

From harmony, from Heav’nly harmony This universal frame began. When Nature underneath a heap Of jarring atoms lay, And could not heave her head, The tuneful voice was heard from high, Arise ye more than dead. Then cold, and hot, and moist, and dry, In order to their stations leap, And music’s pow’r obey. From harmony, from Heav’nly harmony This universal frame began: From harmony to harmony Through all the compass of the notes it ran, The diapason closing full in man. Chorus: As from the pow’r of sacred lays The spheres began to move, And sung the great Creator’s praise To all the bless’d above; So when the last and dreadful hour This crumbling pageant shall devour, The trumpet shall be heard on high, The dead shall live, the living die, And music shall untune the sky.

i see a meander from my window. A whole big meander of a river. A perfect C. or U. And whirling water and cormorants. I think I am the luckiest person in the world because i see animals while i work.

oshrat morad, smile you are on google!

yes. i will start with brown sugar and cinnamon. cookies, crushing in my mouth. pear juice traveling down my throat. chocolate and fruit melting on my tongue. water and lemon, and strawberry smell in the Berlin wind. and black fruits and a small roof made of straw. yes sweetness, for the first time in my life, i recognize you. i know who you are.

1) i love that part in which margherita has the manuscript in her closet, she reads it every once in a while- then she puts on some lotion to become invisible and to be able to fly- and she flies over moscow with her maid! 

2) Sometimes I try to clean up my life. I’ve given up the idea of throwing away objects, accumulation is my addiction (one of them, anyway). So I just clean up my life from people who lie, who talk too much, who do not meet the requirements of friendship by hiding important things from me. And by doing so, I improve my knowledge of friendship. And make more room for real friends. 

3) Shabbat cooking- mmmhh I’d like to make something new and special this coming week.

4) I saw some stockings with a giraffe, the head was on the feet and the legs were going upwards.