Geriatric OE: Art at Canary Wharf

Friday, 11 October 2013

Art at Canary Wharf

Ill let the pictures of this art installation t Canary Wharf speak for themselves

So if a picture is worth a thousand words, ho many words are pieces of sculpture worth

No comments:

Post a Comment

The Philospy of Dr Bob

Today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday and all is well
If plan A doesn't work there are lots more letters in thealphabet to choose from
Technology is great, but texting will never take the place of a real voice, even one on the end of the telephone
Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. Arthur C. Clarke
Age is just a number, old is inside your head.
Dr Bob says ‘Happiness is not a destination... Happiness is a way of life’
There is a school of though that says ‘be careful for what you wish for...it might just come true’ Dr Bob says knowing what to wish for and wishing for it are two different things. Knowing what to do with your life has nothing to do with wishing; more to do with what we ourselves do to make our dreams come true. Dream big. Dr Bob says ‘Happiness is not a destination... Happiness is a way of life’
Some would say never, look behind you the past is the past and should be left behind. Dr Bob says remember to look behind you, sometimes the best views are retrospective.
If you've had a kindness done, pass it on. iIt wasn't meant for you alone,Pass it on, let it wander down the years, let it dry anothers tears, til in heaven the deed appears.Pass it on.

I remember, I remember

I remember, I remember
The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn;
He never came a wink too soon
Nor brought too long a day;
But now, I often wish the night
Had borne my breath away.

I remember, I remember
The roses red and white,
The violets and the lily cups--
Those flowers made of light!
The lilacs where the robin built,
And where my brother set
The laburnum on his birthday,--
The tree is living yet!

I remember, I remember
Where I was used to swing,
And thought the air must rush as fresh
To swallows on the wing;
My spirit flew in feathers then
That is so heavy now,
The summer pools could hardly cool
The fever on my brow.

I remember, I remember
The fir-trees dark and high;
I used to think their slender tops
Were close against the sky:
It was a childish ignorance,
But now 'tis little joy
To know I'm farther off from Heaven
Than when I was a boy.

Thomas Hood