I Have A Little Shadow That Goes In And Out With Me, And What Can Be The Use Of Him Is More Than I Can See. He Is Very, Very Art

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me, And what can be the use of him is more than I can see. He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head; And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed. The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow— Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow; For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball, And he sometimes goes so little that there’s none of him at all. He hasn’t got a notion of how children ought to play, And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way. He stays so close behind me, he’s a coward you can see; I’d think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me! One morning, very early, before the sun was up, I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup; But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head, Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.
Now, those captains must learn what the river will do when it makes that great turn out of sight. How it dashes them up on the rocks of the shore How it spins to the left and the right. It beats them and breaks them and crushes their pride Leaves them dizzy and sick and all jumbled inside ‘til they’ve all but forgotten that glorious ride lying flat on their deck in the sun. There they lie, drying out in the sun. As you round the point where the river was bent and survey the great wideness ahead, you can see all those captains alone on their decks, beat and broken and very near dead. Then the current takes hold and there’s naught you can do as it drags you down into its maw. Headed straight for those rocks, you make ready to crash but at last, you rise up, roll and yaw. Going back and away, then forward again, fearing each time, the rocks will prevail! You’re trapped in a cycling, circling tide, in an eddy withstanding a gale. But each time you circle that great whirling tide and you’ve not hit the rocks or been thrown to the side and you’re kept from the falls, cascading and wide, for the eddy’s small mercy give praise. Give the merciful currents your praise!
Taj Mahal
Eiffel Tower
New York City
A frozen fairy tale castle
First century Jerusalem at the "gate beautiful" to the temple grounds. Peter and John were going up to the temple at the hour of prayer, the ninth hour. And a man lame from birth was being carried, whom they laid daily at the gate of the temple that is called the Beautiful Gate to ask alms of those entering the temple. Seeing Peter and John about to go into the temple, he asked to receive alms. And Peter directed his gaze at him, as did John, and said, “Look at us.” And he fixed his attention on them, expecting to receive something from them. But Peter said, “I have no silver and gold, but what I do have I give to you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk!” And he took him by the right hand and raised him up, and immediately his feet and ankles were made strong.
Now, those captains must learn what the river will do when it makes that great turn out of sight. How it dashes them up on the rocks of the shore How it spins to the left and the right. It beats them and breaks them and crushes their pride Leaves them dizzy and sick and all jumbled inside ‘til they’ve all but forgotten that glorious ride lying flat on their deck in the sun. There they lie, drying out in the sun. As you round the point where the river was bent and survey the great wideness ahead, you can see all those captains alone on their decks, beat and broken and very near dead. Then the current takes hold and there’s naught you can do as it drags you down into its maw. Headed straight for those rocks, you make ready to crash but at last, you rise up, roll and yaw. Going back and away, then forward again, fearing each time, the rocks will prevail! You’re trapped in a cycling, circling tide, in an eddy withstanding a gale. But each time you circle that great whirling tide and you’ve not hit the rocks or been thrown to the side and you’re kept from the falls, cascading and wide, for the eddy’s small mercy give praise. Give the merciful currents your praise!
An interior scene, walking into an old woodworker's shop. The shop is orderly and neat, but well-used. I see a workbench in front of me with a woodworker's vise mounted on it. Several chisels, screwdrivers, mallets, claw hammers, and other such tools are hanging on the wall behind the bench. A very nice black Windsor Chair is positioned on the bench ready for the seat to be repaired. Ambient light is low, and beams of light are streaming in from a source above, with motes of dust floating around in them. Everything is ready for work.
An outdoor scene in a park. a merry-go-round is nearby. A mother squats down to help her little boy, who is crying and making a fuss. other kids are playing in the background but this little boy is very unhappy. Mom has a kind and gentle face and is trying to help him feel better.
Wing Sun is a 10 year old Malaysian boy. We see him from the back as he stands, looking down the street in the evening. The scent of mooncakes and burning lantern oil fills the air in the street in Petaling Jaya where Wing Sun lives. Everything is aglow with the soft light of lanterns, their colors reflected in the puddles left by the afternoon rain. At least 6 vendors have pulled their carts up onto the sidewalks on both sides of the street, selling moon pies and other special treats. Several of Wing-Sun's neighborhood friends, some younger than he and some a little older, were standing around in a circle, waiting for him to come outside.
An outdoor scene in a park. a merry-go-round is nearby. A mother squats down to help her little boy, who is crying and making a fuss. other kids are playing in the background but this little boy is very unhappy. Mom has a kind and gentle face and is trying to help him feel better.
An interior scene, walking into an old woodworker's shop. The shop is orderly and neat, but well-used. I see a workbench in front of me with a woodworker's vise mounted on it. Several chisels, screwdrivers, mallets, claw hammers, and other such tools are hanging on the wall behind the bench. A very nice black Windsor Chair is positioned on the bench ready for the seat to be repaired. Ambient light is low, and beams of light are streaming in from a source above, with motes of dust floating around in them. Everything is ready for work.
I sat, long ago, on an Asian hill with a Shakya Mundi friend, and watched the autumn leaves fall down from high above, giants in the forest casting off their wakefulness, falling progressively into winter’s long, white sleep. “The important thing to know about trees” he said, “is that they are most beautiful in autumn; just before the winter snow. They live and grow through the entire year just for these brief moments of stunning beauty. We are like that.” He said, “but we have only one autumn, and a very long winter.”
A mountain range
Inside an informal church in London. Wing Sun's father has been invited to attend with his counterpart from the office. He doesn't have anything else to do on Sunday morning, so he goes along. we are standing in the back of the room. There are many people of different ethnicities, the Pastor is standing up front alongside a worship leader with a guitar, and a young black woman, facing the audience. The atmosphere is warm and welcoming, but Wing Sun's father feels a little uncomfortable.
A simple cartoon-style propaganda poster drawn with bold, thick marker lines. Use a limited color palette of bright red, dark navy blue, white, and small black outlines. At the top, include a cool, bold propaganda-style font that looks hand-drawn with marker, saying: “FOUR LEGS GOOD, TWO LEGS BETTER!” Make the word “BETTER” much larger and more dramatic. In the center, show a group of white sheep with simple cartoon faces, wide excited eyes, and big happy smiles, cheering together. The sheep should look identical and drawn with simple marker outlines. They are looking at a pig who is walking upright on two legs in a bright spotlight. The pig should be glowing or surrounded by simple marker-drawn light rays to show fake admiration. Add confetti, simple celebration lines, and maybe one sheep holding a small sign. The background should use strong blocks of red and navy blue, like a simple propaganda poster. Include very simple outlines of a barn or farmhouse in the background. Overall style: cute cartoon, clean, bold marker strokes, easy shapes, limited colors, and a brainwashed, energetic vibe.
Los Angeles
Southeast Asia. Modern day. Nearer to the city now, the bus thumps and bumps to a slower pace. Grinding gears mark spaces between dirty children, playing obliviously in the road. Neither village nor metropolis, outskirts have no identity: Just a blurry line of encroachment; a temporary half-life on the way to something more. Dust springs up from the tires of trucks headed both ways on the road. A little girl stands crying in a mud puddle; her brothers laughing from the sides. She has to learn rejection to participate in this brutal, belonging dance. A little life, and a little death for a product truly worthy of its name: a good woman is hard to find.
A forest with hidden spirits
Father and Grandmother with Siu Zi leaving their home in a Guangzhou street in the dark of night. There is an air of secrecy. Siu Zi clutches her small bag, its contents little more than a few treasured keepsakes and faded photographs. Her father’s reassuring hand on her shoulder, and the soft presence of her grandmother at his side, give her the courage to move forward. A taxi waits down the street to take them to the train.
Southeast Asia. Modern day. The damaged and the broken ones; all rooted in the past, live life the way it always was, from their first day to their last. Motes of dust in beams of light, in the darkness of this day, we tip the hat and give a nod, for the truth we can’t convey. Everything is real, but nothing matters, anyway. Where life is only what must be, from the cradle to the grave. Everyone does what they can: Nothing less, but sure no more. Tip the hat and give a nod to the ones who’ve gone before. We tip our hats and give the nod to the world we’ve all ignored
Southeast Asia. Modern day. Afternoon rain forces us into the coolness of the little house, surrounded by rice paddies, where Grandmother assembles strings of Christmas lights; bound for somewhere. Young mother watches three children grow, and wonders: What will their lives be? Can’t dream of what she’s never seen; can’t see what she can’t dream.
I sat, long ago, on an Asian hill with a Shakya Mundi friend, and watched the autumn leaves fall down from high above, giants in the forest casting off their wakefulness, falling progressively into winter’s long, white sleep. “The important thing to know about trees” he said, “is that they are most beautiful in autumn; just before the winter snow. They live and grow through the entire year just for these brief moments of stunning beauty. We are like that.” He said, “but we have only one autumn, and a very long winter.”
Mother and child embrace
From a little distance, An island goddess spirit robed in green leaves observes a castaway man launching a raft to escape the island. The goddess spirit looks sad to see him leave and reaches a hand towards him but is unseen
Mr. Chen has arranged for the little family to cross secretly into Hong Kong—a place known for its bright skyline and bustling streets. Under the cover of darkness and with careful planning, Siu Zi, her father and Grandmother, along with Mr. Chen have boarded a small boat that carries them silently across the water. The sea is calm, its surface reflecting a tapestry of starlight, as if the heavens themselves are guiding them. Siu-Zi lies nestled between her father and grandmother, wrapped up in blankets, in the forward part of an open boat with quiet motors propelling them along. Their is an air of mystery and tension.
A busy city intersection
New york city
From a little distance, An island goddess spirit robed in green leaves observes a castaway man sailing a raft towards a larger island in the distance. The goddess spirit looks sad to see him leave and reaches a hand towards him but is unseen
From a little distance, An island goddess spirit robed in green leaves observes a castaway man sailing a raft towards a larger island in the distance. The goddess spirit looks sad to see him leave and reaches a hand towards him but is unseen
At his Grandmother's house in Penang, while the tropical rain taps softly against the window, Wing Sun, Mother and Grandmother gather in the cozy living room. The room glows with the soft light of an oil lamp, and the walls are adorned with faded photographs and delicate calligraphy. Grandmother’s eyes sparkle as she begins to speak—a voice that carries both the wisdom of her years and the tender care of someone who’s seen many seasons change. Wing Sun is pensive with anticipation. What will she say?
The explorers. Explorers explore a wonderful two faced world one world is morning at beautiful and night at very dangerous zombies and skeleton goblin creatures etc. Another world is hell. No day night cycle. Many Monsters in live it. Heros explore this two faced world
From a little distance, An island goddess spirit robed in green leaves observes a castaway man launching a raft to escape the island. The goddess spirit looks sad to see him leave and reaches a hand towards him but is unseen
Giant hamburger
Inside an informal church in Kuala Lumpur. Wing Sun and his father and mother, along with Siu Zi, his friend from school are there together. We are standing in the back of the room, and there are many more people than there were in the London church. There are people of different ethnicities, but mostly Chinese Malaysian. The Pastor, a Chinese man, is standing up front speaking to the congregation, facing them. The atmosphere is hot and sweaty, with ceiling fans running, but still welcoming, Wing Sun is happy that his family is together and also that his friend Siu Zi, who he has just learned is a Christian, can be there too.
This day, though, I hiked another autumn wood. Eastern Europe ancient; overgrown. So thick the view was dark at just a few feet off the path. All red and yellow; orange and brown, a million trees, each one in blazing preparation for long, frozen winter. I cannot but recall my friend’s words, lasting long, though he did not, and the instant truth that follows. Looking upward at the fiery canopy, matched against the bright cerulean sky beyond, I embrace autumn! Winter surely comes one day, but spring beyond. I have a winter to prepare for, but it is not yet.
City lights as color symphony
From a little distance, An island goddess spirit robed in green leaves observes a castaway man sailing a raft towards a larger island in the distance. The goddess spirit looks sad to see him leave and reaches a hand towards him but is unseen
First century Palestine. Mid-morning in a rural area. The sun is warm and the atmosphere is positive. Jesus and His disciples walk along a country road that goes to Bethany. There are some trees shading part of the road ahead, and cultivated fields on either side of the road. Jesus, wears ordinary clothing like most men, and He’s talking to His disciples as the walk along. The disciples are listening intently to Jesus, and His face is kind, but intense. A farm house sits off to one side, and the town is visible in the distance.
Passing time
An Asian Slice At the dark end of an alley on a moonless night, A youth squats low to the ground, turned toward the wall with his face in his lap. Someone might think he’s sleeping. He’s smoking heroin. Soon he’ll fall over and soil himself, and stay right there until dawn. Back at the neon-lit mouth of this dark alley, hookers walk back and forth, hurrying to get past the alley, either for fear or because is smells so bad. Eyelids, all painted golden, Asian whores always look like they’re made of candy. Candy it is; but a snarling cat awaits its prey.