Tschüß, До свидания, Ciao, Adios

Nothing to look at here.  Keep on moving along.

Many pilgrims sailing to distant lands beached their ships, burned them to the ground and moved on to their ultimate destination.   They did this to remove the temptation of going back to what was familiar and forced them to move on to their new lives.  In Viking cultures, the fallen warrior's body rested on a ship and the family and friends would set it ablaze to say goodbye and send him in to Valhalla.  This blog is now beached.    This blog is dead.  I am burning it down soon to clear some clutter from my life.  It served its purpose.

I originally created The Sensual 5-7-5 as an outlet for my artistically and erotically repressed soul.  I was a naive blogger who had much to learn.  It evolved into the Sensual 7 Seconds,  and finally became the The Photo Fermata.  Through all of these iterations I used it as a sounding board of ideas,  to share rants and raves, to expose readers to ideas, art, and life, to seek glory, to share my dark secrets and to learn what it means to produce in the pixel forest.  It did this.  Too be honest though, I don't think the blog is worth what it once was.

To grunt and sweat under a weary life - Hamlet  3/1 - Shakespeare

I had the wind taken out of my sails a little while ago concerning this piece of myself known as the Photo Fermata.  Diminishing readership, declining comments, and staleness show me it is time to light the torch and burn it down.

Thanks to those who followed and commented.  I appreciate the friendships we made.  I will continue to read and enjoy all the blogs I currently follow.  To my readers, enjoy the old posts.  Feel free to comment.  I leave this burned out hulk as a vestige of my tiny tree in the overly dense pixel forest.

I hope you all find your place in the world and maybe our paths will cross again.

Tschüß,

Karl

 

Someday You Will Have Say Goodbye to the Sun

Someday you will have to say "goodbye" to the sun.
You will bid farewell to the moon, the sky, the clouds, and the stars.
As all things that live, we dim out to a smoking wick, our quiet goodbyes to those things that were  always with us acknowledge we were the grain and they were the beach.
They may not hear our goodbyes, but their existence in our beings need to be recognized and bid proper adieu.

 

 

One of my favorite scenes from my favorite movie, Pulp Fiction