whisperingblindfold:

Kairos (from Greek)
The opportune time and/or place, the right or appropriate time to say or do the right or appropriate thing. The notion of Kairos points out that speech exists in time; but more important, it constitutes a prompting toward speaking and a criterion of the value of speech. In short, Kairos  dictates that what is said must be said at the right time.”
  • Camera: Nikon COOLPIX P5100
  • Aperture: f/4.8
  • Exposure: 1/8th
  • Focal Length: 7mm

whisperingblindfold:

Kairos (from Greek)

The opportune time and/or place, the right or appropriate time to say or do the right or appropriate thing. The notion of Kairos points out that speech exists in time; but more important, it constitutes a prompting toward speaking and a criterion of the value of speech. In short, Kairos dictates that what is said must be said at the right time.”

Arthur Schopenhauer. Born 22 February 1788.

(Died 21 September 1860).

On the Vanity of Existence.

from Studies in Pessimism.

Of every event in our life we can say only for one moment that it is; for ever after, that it was. Every evening we are poorer by a day. It might, perhaps, make us mad to see how rapidly our short span of time ebbs away; if it were not that in the furthest depths of our being we are secretly conscious of our share in the inexhaustible spring of eternity, so that we can always hope to find life in it again.

Considerations of the kind touched on above might indeed, lead us to embrace the belief that the greatest wisdom is to make the enjoyment of the present the supreme object of life; because that is the only reality, all else being merely the play of thought. On the other hand, such a course might just as well be called the greatest folly: for that which in the next moment exists no more, and vanishes utterly, like a dream, can never be worth a serious effort.

via written text here

Audio reading via Archive.org: Librivox

read aloud by D. E. Wittkower.

W.G. Sebald on Thomas Browne:

" There is no antidote, he writes, against the opium of time. The winter sun shows how soon the light fades from the ash, how soon night enfolds us. Hour upon hour is added to the sum. Time itself grows old. Pyramids, arches and obelisks are melting pillars of snow. Not even those who have found a place amidst the heavenly constellations have perpetuated their names: Nimrod is lost in Orion, and Osiris in the Dog Star. Indeed, old families last not three oaks. To set one’s name to a work gives no one a title to be remembered, for who knows how many of the best of men have gone without a trace? The iniquity of oblivion blindly scatters her poppyseed and when wretchedness falls upon us one summer’s day like snow, all we wish for is to be forgotten."

- The Rings Of Saturn by W.G. Sebald

Translated by Michael Hulse (1998)

Image: Jardins de Belem, Lisbon (2010)

Polaroid photo taken by Russian filmmaker Andrei Tarkovsky

"Tarkovsky thought a lot about the “flight” of time and wanted to do only one thing: to stop it – even if only for a moment, on the pictures of the Polaroid camera.”

from a selection of Tarkovsky polaroids via riowang.blogspot