The void Galaxy - The loneliest of galaxies 

Only three local stars appear in this image, quartered by right-angled diffraction spikes. Everything besides them is a galaxy; floating like a swarm of microbes in a drop of water, and brought into view here not by a microscope, but by the Advanced Camera for Surveys on the Hubble Space Telescope.

In the foreground, the spiral arms of MCG+01-02-015 seem to wrap around one another, cocooning the galaxy. The scene suggests an abundance of galactic companionship for MCG+01-02-015, but this is a cruel trick of perspective. Instead, MCG+01-02-015’s unsentimental naming befits its position within the cosmos: It is a void galaxy, the loneliest of galaxies.

The vast majority of galaxies are strung out along galaxy filaments — thread-like formations that make up the large-scale structure of the Universe — drawn together by the influence of gravity into sinuous threads weaving through space. Between these filaments stretch shallow but immense voids; the Universe’s wastelands, where, outside of the extremely rare presence of a galaxy, there is very little matter — about one atom per cubic metre. One such desolate stretch of space is what MCG+01-02-015 reluctantly calls home. The galaxy is so isolated that if our galaxy, the Milky Way, were to be situated in the same way, we would not have known of the existence of other galaxies until the 1960s.

(c) ESA/Hubble & NASA and N. Gorin (STScI)

http://www.spacetelescope.org/images/potw1545a/?utm_medium=SocialSignIn&utm_source=Facebook

Επικρατέστερες ανεξήγητες μαθηματικές εξισώσεις:

mundane = good & extraordinary = bad

M u n d a n e

1. lacking interest or excitement; dull.

"his mundane, humdrum existence"

synonyms: humdrum, dull, boring, tedious, monotonous, tiresome, wearisome, prosaic, unexciting, uninteresting, uneventful, unvarying, unvaried, unremarkable, repetitive, repetitious, routine, ordinary, everyday, day-to-day, quotidian, run-of-the-mill, commonplace, common, workaday, usual, pedestrian, customary, regular, normal; unimaginative, banal, hackneyed, trite, stale, platitudinous; typical, vanilla, plain vanilla, hacky; banausic

"the mundane aspects of daily life"

antonyms: extraordinary, imaginative

2. of this earthly world rather than a heavenly or spiritual one.

"according to the Shinto doctrine, spirits of the dead can act upon the mundane world"

synonyms: earthly, worldly, terrestrial, material, temporal, secular, non-spiritual, fleshly, carnal, sensual; sublunary

"the mundane world"

Μιας αιωνιότητας σιγή για αυτές τις most moving untold stories.

...Δικαίωση 

                  (... και καλά...) 

#include <ios_story_stream>

int main ()

{   

    // Specific story non-declaration:   

    string story = "Untold";

    // while painful loop execution

    while( story < "Untold"  )

{      

     means_Shit(story)

     cout << "null" << endl;

    // for all untold stories

     story++;   

}     

return 0;

}

 Χωρίς μη-δεν
Aπέραντο άδειο τίποτα
Eνα κενό γεμάτο με καθόλου
Το άπειρo του χάους σε αντικρύζει

"Δεν θα σας διαλέξη ο δαίμονας, αλλά σεις θα διαλέξετε το δαίμονά σας"
- Πλάτωνος Πολιτεία, 613ε-619α: "Λαχέσεως λόγος" - δείτε το όλο εδώ

Σημείωση: Λάχεση, εκείνη από τις 3 Μοίρες, που κρατάει ένα ραβδί και αναλόγως ορίζει τη διάρκεια της ζωής του κάθε ανθρώπου... Ψιλοκόβετε το γέλιο στο "Λαχέσεως" τώρα, ε; Εντωμεταξύ, διαλέξτε και δαίμονα... Τώρα που γυρίζει...

Δαίμονας/Δαιμόνιο - αποσαφήνηση:

Τι νομίζετε ότι είναι: κάποιο κακοποιό πνεύμα

Τι είναι:  εκείνη η φωνή που μας αποτρέπει (αλλά δεν την ακούμε)

Διάσημο Δαιμόνιο: του Σωκράτη

Τι κρύβει ενα τοσοδούλικο δακτυλικό αποτύπωμα ;

...οοοοόλο το συνεχώς διαστελλόμενο σύμπαν...

κι όταν αγγίξει το αντίστοιχο συμμετρικό του δακτυλικό αντιαποτύπωμα, είναι τότε που δημιουργείται εκείνη η μυστήρια αντιύλη...

...που είναι τελικά σκοτεινή ή φωτεινή;

Τι λέγαμε για την οπτική γωνία, το όραμα και την προοπτική;

http://bigthink.com/Picture-This/god-complex-how-rubens-flipped-the-script-on-michelangelo

Σήμερα, στα γενέθλια του Oscar Wilde...

The New Helen

Oscar Wilde, Poems, 1881

Where hast thou been since round the walls of Troy   
The sons of God fought in that great emprise?   
Why dost thou walk our common earth again?  
Hast thou forgotten that impassioned boy,   
His purple galley, and his Tyrian men,          
And treacherous Aphrodite’s mocking eyes?  
For surely it was thou, who, like a star   
Hung in the silver silence of the night,   
Didst lure the Old World’s chivalry and might  
Into the clamorous crimson waves of war!  
  
Or didst thou rule the fire-laden moon?   
In amorous Sidon was thy temple built   
Over the light and laughter of the sea?   
Where, behind lattice scarlet-wrought and gilt,   
 Some brown-limbed girl did weave thee tapestry,  
All through the waste and wearied hours of noon;  
Till her wan cheek with flame of passion burned,   
And she rose up the sea-washed lips to kiss  
Of some glad Cyprian sailor, safe returned   
From Calpé and the cliffs of Herakles!  
  
No! thou art Helen, and none other one!   
It was for thee that young Sarpedôn died,   
And Memnôn’s manhood was untimely spent;   
It was for thee gold-crested Hector tried  
With Thetis’ child that evil race to run,   
In the last year of thy beleaguerment;  
Ay! even now the glory of thy fame   
Burns in those fields of trampled asphodel,   
Where the high lords whom Ilion knew so well  
Clash ghostly shields, and call upon thy name.   
 
Where hast thou been? in that enchanted land   
Whose slumbering vales forlorn Calypso knew,   
Where never mower rose to greet the day   
But all unswathed the trammelling grasses grew,  
And the sad shepherd saw the tall corn stand  
Till summer’s red had changed to withered gray?  
Didst thou lie there by some Lethæan stream   
Deep brooding on thine ancient memory,  
The crash of broken spears, the fiery gleam   
From shivered helm, the Grecian battle-cry.   
  
Nay, thou wert hidden in that hollow hill   
With one who is forgotten utterly,   
That discrowned Queen men call the Erycine;  
Hidden away that never mightst thou see   
The face of Her, before whose mouldering shrine   
To-day at Rome the silent nations kneel;   
Who gat from Love no joyous gladdening,   
But only Love’s intolerable pain,   
Only a sword to pierce her heart in twain,   
Only the bitterness of child-bearing.   50
  
The lotos-leaves which heal the wounds of Death   
Lie in thy hand; O, be thou kind to me,   
While yet I know the summer of my days;  
For hardly can my tremulous lips draw breath   
To fill the silver trumpet with thy praise,   
So bowed am I before thy mystery;  
So bowed and broken on Love’s terrible wheel,   
That I have lost all hope and heart to sing,   
Yet care I not what ruin time may bring  
If in thy temple thou wilt let me kneel.  
  
Alas, alas, thou wilt not tarry here,   
But, like that bird, the servant of the sun,   
Who flies before the northwind and the night,  
So wilt thou fly our evil land and drear,   
Back to the tower of thine old delight,   
And the red lips of young Euphorion;  
Nor shall I ever see thy face again,   
But in this poisonous garden must I stay,  
Crowning my brows with the thorn-crown of pain,   
Till all my loveless life shall pass away.  
  
O Helen! Helen! Helen! yet awhile,   
Yet for a little while, O, tarry here,   
Till the dawn cometh and the shadows flee!  
For in the gladsome sunlight of thy smile   
Of heaven or hell I have no thought or fear,   
Seeing I know no other god but thee:  
No other god save him, before whose feet   
In nets of gold the tired planets move,   
The incarnate spirit of spiritual love  
Who in thy body holds his joyous seat.  
  
Thou wert not born as common women are!   
But, girt with silver splendour of the foam,   
Didst from the depths of sapphire seas arise!  
And at thy coming some immortal star,   
Bearded with flame, blazed in the Eastern skies,  
And waked the shepherds on thine island-home.  
Thou shalt not die: no asps of Egypt creep   
Close at thy heels to taint the delicate air;   
No sullen-blooming poppies stain thy hair,  
Those scarlet heralds of eternal sleep.  
  
Lily of love, pure and inviolate!   
Tower of ivory! red rose of fire!   
Thou hast come down our darkness to illume:  
For we, close-caught in the wide nets of Fate,   
Wearied with waiting for the World’s Desire,   
Aimlessly wandered in the house of gloom,  
Aimlessly sought some slumberous anodyne   
For wasted lives, for lingering wretchedness,  
Till we beheld thy re-arisen shrine,   
 And the white glory of thy loveliness.

ρετροπροφητεία

Η λέξη της ημέρας*

Ρετροπροφητεία: (Γραμμ.: Ουσιαστικό μέρος του λόγου που αναφέρεται κατά κανόνα σε πρόσωπα, από τις σπάνιες λέξεις της ελληνικής γλώσσας με το ενοχλητικό επαναλαμβανόμενο σε ανύποπτα χρονικά διαστήματα πληθυντικό αριθμός σε -ες,

Ο φαύλος ορισμός "της πρόβλεψης της κατάστασης της αποκάλυψης των συγκεκριμένων μελλούμενων γεγονότων"** ακριβώς μετά τη στιγμή που αυτά έχουν ήδη συμβεί και χωρίς πλέον τη δυνατότητα ικανοποιητικής αναίρεσής τους. Εκδηλώνεται με τυποποιημένη αυστηρή αυτοκριτική κατόπιν εορτής με τις παρακάτω εκφράσεις: "στα 'λεγα εγώ", "δε στα ΄λεγα", "ας πρόσεχες", "Δεν ήξερες - δε ρώταγες", "μια χαρά ήξερες", καταλήγοντας πάντα στην απελπιστική αποδοχή του "καλά να πάθεις". 

* Κατά Ευαγγελίαν Λεξικόν

**Οι 6 γενικές στη σειρά είναι intentional γιατί έτσι θέλησα.