Google swallows my comments

I am vexed: I wrote a long-ish comment on Rachel‘s post „Soulmate“ - had to give in my password for my google-Account - said „publish“ - and all of it vanished in the sky.. Might be that this only happens on my I-pad, because I thought (but still have to check) that I have commented on Tom‘s blog. This is all so annoying and time- consuming!  

Back from Portugal and The Netherlands

I took better photos of beautiful Lissabon, where we have spent a marvelous week. With mostly 30°C the temperature was so high that we gained another week of summer.
I do love Lissabon very much - I was there for the first time - and above you see the view from our phantastic hotel room.
As you know, I never announce in advance that I will travel, because I am always a bit afraid that someone on the shady side of The Law might use this knowledge to his advantage.

Now I am back - after some sunny days in the Netherlands.
And will unpack my suitcases for a while.

See you!   

I promised Geo. the photo of a raindrop

I took this photo on my narrow boat trip in September 2017. Rosemary will instantly see where I found this subject.

A subtle hint: 

A hint:

Who got it??

Thank you - and flowers for all of you!

Hurrah!!! 

It works!!!
After I tried out all your advices, (and honestly: I do not know which one helped in the end - I saw stars in front of my overworked eyes) - but the result is here:

                                           Google gave me my identity back! 

(I feel a bit as the German philosophy booktitle: "Who am I - and if: how many?")


And I learned something which seems to me to be too profound to be applied only to computers:

"Sometimes it all goes a bit weird for me, but corrects itself later." 

Yes - a metapher for Life!!!!  So:


                                    THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR HELP!  Britta XXX 

Hacked?

I wonder (and worry): I answered the comments of Gwil and Rachel - but cannot publish them, and my Google profile is not to be reached (thus I cannot comma on your blogs either). Has anyone here the same problem? And what can I do? Thank you for your help, Britta (hope I can publish this)

Do less, get more

Yesterday I went to Dussmann in Friedrichstraße - oh no: not a simple bookshop! - it calls itself a "Kulturkaufhaus" - a shop to buy culture, mmmh, mmm, mmh - would be a nice thing for some people in Germany...
It has a special section, the "English Bookshop" - and that most often gives me ideas, and I seldom leave with only one book.
(Nowadays - even if you buy for more than 20 Euros - they give you the book you paid for over the counter, just like that.
Then I put on what I call my Freiherr von Knigge-glance -- very haughty, very severe - and ask: "Will you PLEASE put it into a little paper bag, dear?"
(I had to ask at Peek&Cloppenburg too, where I bought an Armani-dress for summer: they put the dress into my hand and thought that I would walk away with it, just like that!
And if you do not pay attention, they forget to give you the receipt too - I mean: with all the security guards and detectives around: how will you prove you really paid for it??
The book above is a reminder:
spend more time on things you love - and not on chores you think you have to do.

And that reminded me that I love blog-writing (even if I have - as everybody else - little time) - and that I should just try to keep it simple, not being a perfectionist about photos e.g.

So I will give my blog-writing what they call it in modern relationship-babble:

                           "QUALITY-TIME" 

Tattoos

                                                                           

It is summer, and it is hot, hot, hot. 

So hot that people wear little nothings - men open their shirts and their huge bellies have the freedom David Hasselhoff was fighting for; and extremely well-nourished women wear mini-shorts, and thousands of them display huge tattoos. 
Everywhere you look at their generously exposed bodies. 

The University of Leipzig estimated that 
19 million people in Germany have Tattoos. (A third of the people under thirty has at least one). 
And these tattoos are not the teeny weeny Chinese ideographs (how come that I first wrote "idiograph"?)
(The photo above I found in a glossy magazine) In Berlin you can admire hole landscapes on legs, arms, shoulders, backs and sometimes even on  faces. 

Tattoos are not without risk. 
Everybody (!EVERYBODY!) in Germany who owns a "starter kit" is allowed to tattoo his victims prey  customers. 
So: 
- You risk an aesthetic disaster (just look around!!) 
- You risk your health:  There might be poisonous parts in the colours which are not designed for tattoos, but for car paint (honestly!). 

And if you want to get rid of "I love you, Annicka!" for "I love you, Babette!"? 

Well: You have to pay: sometimes thousands of Euros if her name was a long one (choose Babs instead next time!)

You can a) let somebody cut it out (iiiiih!); or b) let them use chemical etching lotions (ouch!)  or - and that will be the choice of most: c) laser. 

I hope that these three painful methods are used by doctors only. 

So, don't hum Bob Dylan's song "Don't think twice - it's alright!" when you enter my tattoo study --- it might be the wrong song.  
Better hum: 

           "Needles and Pins!"

Some Cannot Boil an Egg!

I saw it - and I wanted it.

„It will save so much space  - and time - and it  looks so cute!“ 

Though I live on 180 square meters, I bought it.
In the Netherlands I had learned The High Art of Boiling an Egg.
Which implies not just boiling- oh no: boiling the egg for precisely 4 and a half minute - after asking  myself: „Am I -  just now - above or below sea level?" How come that at that point I always had to think of M.F.K. Fisher and her fabulous book: „How to Cook a Wolf“ ?
In Berlin I found a few flies in the ointment of my new kitchen device:
- it takes an awful long time
- the outside which you have to touch to stop the high pitched "stop!"-button gets really hot
- AND: it is not only designed for a dwarf´s kitchen (hope that I do not use a political incorrect word - I’m speaking of fairytale dwarfs) - it also needs dwarf fingers (for my 1.78 m I have astonishing little hands, and they are very capable for everything in craftwork),
- no: it also demands utter precision (also no problem for me - for some time I wanted to become a pharmacist because I like using pipettes and tiny scales).

But worst of all: It cannot boil a soft egg!
Golf balls: yes, thank you: here it manages well.
But soft eggs -  whatever I tried - NO.

When comes the day when you ask yourself:
Is it worth all the efforts?

In this case I decided after three weeks: NO!

(PS: Does anyone remember the hype in the Nineties (I think) about „Feng Shui“?
Change your fate by just moving some things around - and if you want a happy partnership, NEVER buy a single item, always (!) buy pairs.
A single-egg-cooker - I am sure - would have meant „bad Feng Shui“, even a thousand years ago.
Though I cannot verify that - I tossed out all my Feng Shui books a long time ago.

As I will do with that cute little egg-boiler!

A Connoisseur of the Art of Living

The German word "Lebenskünstler" - which  literally means "an artist in/of life" - has no real equivalent in English.
The dictionary offers me "hedonist" and "spiv" and "person who makes the best of things" - but that's not quite "IT".

Well - here you see one of my neihbours (no privacy intruded) - he is a real "artist" in life, meaning he works in varieté and does many, many surprising things with his body (walking on a high rope is only one of it).

And he kows how to live his life in the most creative and happy way.
He does not own much - but he has ideas. Sees chances - and grasps them.

A year ago he put two chairs into the wildernis of our Hinterhof (our absentee landlady does not permit to use it or make a garden out of it).

Then one of the chairs (if you stare hard you might find it at the left side) became what I will call  "the poetic idea of a chair", a mere quote, because  it misses the important part of a chair: the seating surface.
It is very Zen-like, very Buddhistic, this chair!

But our artist used it the other one today - the second chair, which still is sort of ok - and as we have the third day of summer in Berlin (28°C! in mid.May!), and he, different from us, has no balcony - uses the wildernis in a very creative way.

And, as you might have noticed:

He follows the sun!

Houses in Berlin

People buy and buy property in Berlin (as they do in other big cities) - with the result that the prices (and rents) go up like skyrockets...
People think of it as an "investment", they often do not intend to live there, but use it as a holiday flat once or twice a year.
I know rich Italians who did not even come over to look at what they buy - they told their estate-agent what they were looking for and he bought.

They might be in for a big surprise :-)

Oh YES: the beautifully renovated house is right beside the KaDeWe, our imposant top luxury department store. (OK - maybe the estate agent forgot to tell them that from 6 o'clock in the morning the less stylish vans and trucks come and bring fresh goods for the gourmet-floor...)
And it was better that they did not see the house before the renovation, which was done in a surprisingly quick and superficial way by poor people from Poland (or beyond). Who wants to know that it had looked like The Castle of Otranto, or something taken from a Gothic movie...
No - now it has the certain je ne sais-quoi (though ...I do ... know... :-)
And yes: it HAS an elevator.
What they do NOT know is a speciality of many old Berlin houses:
you have to climb many many stairs too reach the first floor - where the elevator starts! -  (if it consoles you: the many many steps are very steep, but made from marble!)
Above I show you the photo I took at my dentist:
I am convinced that some people will need no anesthesia, when they reach the elevator at the first floor... they might be very sedated, utterly numb...

This is the antique elevator:

Nice - really! - but it comes along with a large manual how to use it. ("I never in my life have used it", said the doctor's receptionist and shuddered slightly, and then added in a dark low voice: "You are really courageous!" ) 

I am not courageous, but I am curious. It was a very funny rideI And ended with a heavy bump.
(Yes: I was a bit scared when I had to try and try and try to close the strange doors 'the right way' until  finally I got the old chest moving...

The huge old mirror inside reminded me of those in the funfair, House of Mirrors, where some mirrors draw you thin and tall, or as here: compress you to plump and stout...
But this woman takes up her cross and banishes her vanity ... all in the pursuit of an interesting photo.

And then you are down again (hopefully):

And you stagger down, and step outside, into the lovely sunny spring air, and you see the first blossoms on trees, and you are
                                                                  HAPPY!
                                                            YOU ARE FREE AGAIN!
                                                              YOU ARE OUT!
                                                             BACK TO EARTH!

Wishful Thinking

I took better photographs of the big starfish I found in Noordwijk, Netherlands.
But I cannot find this photo at the moment - the only choice now is between NOT to write this post or use this not so perfect photo.
Reality versus perfectionism.
Sign of beginning wisdom that I let realism win?

Why "Wishful Thinking"?
Well: about two weeks ago, walking at the shore of the North Sea in Holland, I thought:
"I want to find a seahorse."
(It is always good to aim for something high: genus hippocampus is nowadays so rare in the North Sea, that a few years ago the fisherman Manfred Sophra in St. Peter Ording (Germany) who found a litte seahorse among the caught fishes and crabbs, brought it instantly to a breeding farm).
Yet I wished.
And No - I did not find one.
But I found something else (though took it not with me): a starfish.
When I showed the photos to Wietske, who is in Berlin my Dutch "tandem" and friend, she said: "I NEVER found a starfish, NEVER."
I did. Expecting something extraordinary sometimes help. (Advice: Never be too specific if you are looking for something - all women know that: if you err through a department store in search of the cobalt blue blouse, you will find lots of pink, white and green ones --- but cobalt blue? Sorry..).

I love this little story about starfish:

A young man and his friend walked along the sea, and on the shore they saw many many starfish after a storm, still living. 
The young man bent down, threw a starfish back into the sea, bent down again, threw another one back into the sea - until his friend asked:" What are you doing?" 
"I throw them back to the sea, so they can live." 
"But", said his friend, "look at the shore: there are hundreds and hundreds on it! Honestly: it will not make any difference if you throw a few ones back to the sea!" 
"To this one it does!"  answered the young man and threw another one back. 

Arthur & Claire

Now I am well again - a little feeble maybe after being sick from undercooling, as the blossom of this magnolia, but underneath I am still "steel".
I lost two kilogram and weigh now 59,4 kg - not so much for my 1.78m.
But one visit to the Netherlands will change that again... :-)

The film "Arthur & Claire", with Josef Hader and Hannah Hoekstra was a very funny, black comedy (nowadays they would call it "bitter-sweet") - two suicidal persons spending a night in Amsterdam.

"Do you always invade in someone else's room? Do you Germans still do that?" cries the young Dutch Hannah outraged, when Arthur enters her hotel room to hinder her to swallow an overdose of lethal pills.
"No idea", he replies, "I am Austrian."
"Even worse", she replies.

or:

When she asks him why he choose the Netherlands and not Switzerland as country for legal assisted suicide, he replies:

"By no means I would die in Switzerland. There you will not even realize that you are dead."

Mmmmh, mmmhhh, mmmh. May be I should eat a cream tart to gain weight and glee. mirth and cheerfulness again?

But honestly: the movie was great!

Horror trip with train(s)

We have here minus 12° (or, as they describe it nowadays on the Weather App: "feels like minus 17°).

Can you imagine that at these temperatures the Netherland and the German Trains broke down on Tuesday. 1. March, (I came from Amsterdam) - a breakdown of energy - so we had to leave the train in Amersfoort, and stood there - hundreds of people! - for over an hour in the biting cold - without shelter, without information, and all they said was "There will some busses come to take you to Bad Bentheim".
The people: very civilized - the busses came not quickly one after the other, yet almost nobody pushed in rudely.
The busses brought us to - Apeldoorn. Out again.
Then a small train to Hengelo.
From there busses to Bad Bentheim - Germany. The only official person there saw us - and buggered off!! No waiting room for us, no toilets, no informations -  but half an hour icy wind.
Then came out of Nowhere a little train. Someone said: "Those who want to go to Berlin should leave in Rheine - a slow train will bring you from there to Hannover, and from there you can go by taxi to Berlin." 
The distance between Hannover and Berlin is 286 kilometers.
And I said: "Oh no. I will not leave in Rheine. I go to Osnabrück and take a hotel there."
The others left the little train obediently in Rheine, I clung to my seat.
In Osnabrück it was weird: a station like a Hopper-painture - and a small empty glass-box in dark colours: the Information-Point.
I pushed the glass door. It opened! 
Behind a desk hid a little man.
"Do you see any chance to go to Berlin tonight?" I asked him (more a rhetorical question, to be honest).
"Nah!", he said, and scrolled listlessly through his computer.
Then - after a pause - he exclaimed:

"I can't believe it. Never ever before has an ICE stopped in Löhne (40.000 inhabitants!) - but now one will. Take a little train to Löhne, you will catch it." 

To cut a long story short: I did! Arrived in Berlin a quarter after midnight at the main station.
That was my very private "Miracle of Löhne".

PS: The ones in the slow train could not catch the ICE when it stopped in Hannover.

PPS: Although there were many, many trains affected by the breakdown of energy - in the Netherlands and in Germany - there was not one word in the newspaper about it. Which I think very, very strange...

Use Your Eyes!

Berlin has a lot of cinemas - and I am so happy: I have a subscription that allowes me to visit all 12 Yorck Kinos (the photo you see above is one of the smaller 6 cinema halls of the newly built delphilux - smaller hall used to show films in the original English version) -  and a whole year long I can watch every film as often as I want.
(Come to think of it: I could almost give up my appartment... and the seats are very comfortable  :-)
I counted: this week just the Yorck cinemas offer 98 films - though of course in some cinemas they show the same films. (And if you find nothing that might please you: there are so many, many other cinemas in Berlin).
On Sunday, when I was in dire need of a pause, I watched "The Dark Hour" about Winston Churchill.
I was very moved - and learned more by watching than I had learned at school.
Although I read at the moment further "The Churchill Factor. How One Man Made History" by Boris Johnson, it was the fim that reached my heart.
Which was, of course, their intention.
 Well done!

Hurrah! Juchhu!

I am so happy: everthing was fine! 

And now I feel as if I have wings again - 

and there is so much time to choose from 

(or so it seems at the given moment - but you know me by now :-) 

Balance

Only a few words, as I am occupied, having verbal exam on Monday - in Dutch...
Our seminar starts at 8:30 - yes: in the MORNING! - and over the term I witnessed the sun rising earlier and earlier. As I  ("I'll follow the sun" :-)
A few days ago something was different.
The wooden sculpture of a fox stands there. 
Well-chosen for the aim of an university.
Wich reminded me of my old blog-titel - I frickled it into my header by now, to remind us all that we are both: "Witty and Pretty".

The Last Weeks...

                                     

... were filled with learning: Dutch grammar, Dutch vocabulary, Dutch newspapers and Dutch books. 

(And the after pains of the flu). 

Today at the university we did our written exam, the verbal will follow next week. 

So: 

there was no time for ironing! 

Worse: 

there was no time for creativity! The gouache colours for my birthday (end of December): still not touched! 

But soon life will start to become vibrant and colourful and exotic (and more orderly - that is what I call serenity..) 

again. 

I feel it. 

Better!

Seems that I am over the flu.
I start feeling much better, have no longer fever. Have lost a few pounds - which was NOT necessary and makes me still a bit feeble - but I can think again, the muddiness in my head is blown away.
I still feel weak - but I no longer feel stuck.
I see improvements, and have a lot of plans. I "only" need patience.

So, I'm happy again!  

I Believe in What I See

I always knew: HE REALLY EXISTS! 

Admitted: he works under a few aliases - in the Netherlands he calls himself SINTERKLAAS, and as a man with a full agenda he visits the children earlier than in Germany or Great Britain.
Netherlanders will not tire to tell you about their historical influence in America - think of Niuew Amsterdam (later changed to New York) - and so you will easily see the metamorphosis from Sinterklaas to SANTA CLAUS.

In the Netherlands he arrives at December 5th, and he comes in a steamship from Spain - in pakjesboat 12.
His companion is de ZWARTE PIET (the Black Peter) - and in our hyper-politically-correct time poor Piet (being black and stereotyped) has a lot of hostilities to endure. He tries to convince his adversaries that he is only black because he comes through the chimney, and only all that soot, this fine particulaired matter, is blackening his face, but a lot of grown-ups shout: "Don't pull that black wool over our eyes!" The Mayor of Dordrecht, where Sinterklaas' boat landed this year, manly forbade a demonstration against Piet.
(Nothing new under the sun: in Delft (Netherlands) in 16th century all Sinterklaas-festivities were prohibited. But then, in 19th century, the man in the red cloak with those cute silky white long curls was everywhere accepted, and utterly loved by the children).

My childlike soul still believes in decency, trustworthiness and uprightness.
And in love.

And so it is no surprise that I saw HIM:
Sinterklaas walked through the heavy snow that fell on the Netherlands (as in England).
Walked towards the North Sea to his ship.
And: He was alone.
I could not see de Zwarte Piet.

But then, admidst the heavy snowflakes, a second person materialized - and I understood: SINTERKLAAS, the saintly and sly old fox was so much smarter than his adversaries!!!

Look -- yes! -- trust your eyes: his new political absolutely correct companion is ---

                                                               A WOMAN! 

(Ok, Ok - I see that he is also a faithful man: there is a black person in front of him - and yes: it might be de Zwarte Piet...) 

Dear Bloggers, whereever you are in the world: 

I wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! 

Yours, Britta                     PS: Believe me - wonders do happen! 

How to Catch a Dutch Owl (so necessary in December)

Dear You, 

for me one of the most fascinating aspects of learning a new language is that it allows me glimpses into the character and poetic heart of another nation and culture.
The idioms, the proverbs, the sayings - daily life dances in new clothes!

So I learned a lot Dutch expressions for "THE NAP". (An endangered pleasure...)
Of course you can use the common word: "een dutje" - BUT: how much more vivid and colourful is the older phrase: "een uiltje knappen" - and though the experts quarrel about the first meaning (maybe something with catching a "butterfly"), there is no denying that "uiltje" is the owl that the exhausted man or woman is trying to catch... feathery...soft...tiny...and evasive...
There are many more ways to say (or hide) how you will spent your time after lunch -
but even my Dutch docent was flabbergasted when I served her my finest find:

"Ik ga een Engelse brief schrijven"
- isn't that a very genteel way to hide the truth of napping?

To write an ENGLISH letter (or better: write a letter in English)
is evidenty such a difficult affair

that absolutely nobody should dare to disturb your concentration!

Z...
          zz .. 
                                ZZZZ...

ZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZxxxZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ  

Bungee-jumping at the FU Berlin?

I agree.
This building looks as crazy (and funny) as my newest project. It is a building on the campus of the FU Berlin. Where I study now:
yes - since October I study at the Freie Universität Berlin.

"What?", you may ask, "what???"

I hope you ask what is the subject of my studies.
It is the philology & languange I think so very cute, surprising, powerful, studded with humour - and very, very sexy. I am speaking of Niederlandistik.
I love, love, love it.
3 times a week (and very early too) I learn to pronounce the "cchhh" and all the other interesting sounds, fricatives and spirants - and that, Dear You, is only the tip of the iceberg - I have to learn many many hours, and you see me mumbling Dutch words in the subway ("Ja hoor" - I use every occasion to practise).

As much as I love (and laugh with) Virginia Ironside, I disagree with her in one point (when she writes in "No! I Don't Want to Join a Bookclub"):

"But it is too late!" I argued. "That's what's so great about being old. You no longer have to think about going to university, or go bungee-jumping! It's a huge release! I've been feeling guilty about not learning another language for most of my adult life. At last I find that now, being old, I don't have to! There aren't enough years left to speak it. It'd be pointless."

She is 59 when she writes that.
C'mon!!!
I might agree with her on bungee-jumping (though last Sunday I danced together with other models for two hours over the catwalk; will tell you soon) -
but learning a new language is pure bliss!

A whole new world is opening up!

Travelling for almost one and a half month,

... but I do not want to bore you, so just follow me on a little photo-tour!

1. The Narrow-Boat-Tour in England,

         ... beautiful and with a lot of exhausting locks:

                  Big fun with many international good friends,
                                                      and culture as in Cambridge and York:

                       ...and breathtaking landscapes:

 

2. Then from a cottage in the Peak District: 

                        Wonderful trips to gardens, castles and parks,

                           ... and an Edwardian Opera House in Buxton:

3. Then visiting the beautiful Netherlands:

4. Followed by the Book Fair in Frankfurt:

5. and a visit to Darmstadt:

6. and the Allgäu:

Now I am home again in Berlin -
and will tell you of my new adventures soon!

Customer-friendly? I wouldn't bet on it!

Dear You,
yes - of course I have a more precise photo for this blog-post, but the proprietor of this shop for framing pictures might complain - he is very good at that.
Never in my life have I met a shopkeeper who repels his customer more than he does.
Three times I have been in his shop - and each time I came out without service or a frame, but half-deaf ears and lost time.
While he was grinning in a way that I can only describe as "satisfied, triumphant".
First time: "No, we could not repair that frame. It would cost you too much."
(Honestly: he only had to paint a bit of black shelack on it - I could have done that myself - and might, come to think of it: a few drops of black nail-varnish might solve the problem).
He did not even name a sum and then ask me, if I would be willing or able to pay it!
Second time: "No, we do not mount (is that the word?) cinema-posters anymore - it is so much work!" (Honestly: in my youth I have learned to do it myself - it is a bit of work, but not that much - and: this is a handyman's shop for framing! He owns a press!)
And the third time he said to a little photo-framing-job: "But you have to come till tomorrow - after that we are away for holidays, hahaha!"
AND THEN he started to complain: that the Internet is ruining his shop.
And that people and times are no longer what they once were...
And that all the young people would learn in a horrible way how their internet-fixation will ruin the world, their life, and then they will see and regret - "too late, haha!"!
(At that time I had reached the door and slipped out of this dear olde shoppe).

I might have mentioned before that one of my favourite quotes is:
"Turdus ipse sibi malum cacate" -
"The thrush shits her misfortune herself", loosely translated -
and yes: it sounds more elegant in Latin   :-)
The quote means, that birds eat the sticky white berries of the mistletoe - and then men make birdlime of this shit and catch them.

He does the same, yet blames the shitty Internet!

I Feel Over-Protected!

Dear You, 

in these political hot times it might sound VERY strange to complain "I feel overprotected!" - but I do, in Germany more and more. The "Jugendwahn" now leads to infantilism - and people are treated like half-wits... 

Look at this: 

Speechless... (I just see: it is difficult to read - though: in three languages...). It is a detailed manual how to put on your tights/ pantyhose). 

I am inclined to write a sarcastic Thank-You-letter.  

"Dear Sir, 

thank you oh so much for your help to put on this enigmatic garment! 

Without your instructions I would still be standing in my master's bedroom, vulnerable, freezing, all up in tears! 

"How", I would ask myself, "how will I ever be able to manage this?" 

A thousand thanks! 

A deeply contented customer. 

PS: Might I ask your permission to offer seminars and tutorials on this delicate subject? 

On Facebook I found this (sorry, do not know who did it or where it came from):   

The Quest for Beauty

Dear You,

when I took this photograph in the Botanical Garden in Berlin, I was a bit agitated because a guard of the museum had behaved very, very strange. 

Now Beauty is a wonderful device for me to calm down. 

I loved the clear white of the waterlilies. 

Took a few more pictures of them - and only now, at home, I saw, that Beauty was not alone. 

Not everybody is endowed with beauty - (though, as we all know, beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder, and maybe the frog here is King of the Pond, and every female frog crazy about him and the deep croaking sound of his ballooned cheeks ) - so the ugly does persue beauty intensely, and tries everything to possess it - look at the waterlily above, up in the left corner! 

Well, I walked on, searching for perfection. 

I was not alone: