Showing posts with label fact. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fact. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

fact of the matter. Part twelve.

In the 1950's the US Weather Bureau came up with a numbering system to classify clouds. At first there were only nine types of clouds, nine being the biggest, fluffiest cloud, the cumulonimbus. Hence the phrase "sitting on cloud nine". However they then discovered another type of cloud, moving the cumulonimbus cloud to number ten. Don't fret kids, it just means bliss is sitting on ten.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Buoyancy.

The simple function of inhaling and exhaling is magnified in water, the inflation of the lungs causes you to rise to the surface ever so slightly. Which got me thinking about how people sink, so I guess the really amazing thing in this situation is oxygen.
I'm not going to say that the world is a strange place because that has been said many times before, which makes it a lot less strange.
Which gets me thinking, if something is said to be strange too many times it loses its strangeness entirely. Words have such power in distorting ideas. I'm a little bit lost.
Image via weheartit.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

The fact of the matter is. Part eleven

I searched desperately for a fact about basketball to go with this photo, but the fact is there isn't anything interesting about it, or I am yet to know.
Voguegirl Korea.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Sanctuary.

Wilber stood behind the glass window with an indifferent facial expression, his hot cocoa forming steam streaks on the glass panes. He shifted his weight, rocking from heel to toe as his small russet coloured sausage dog, Alfredo, lingered around his worn in boat shoes.

The small cottage nestled in the heart of the city seemed odd in its squatness as the bland grey buildings stretched up towards the sky that seemed so full of life and wonder.
The rooms of the cottage smelled of off-set printing, paper and tea-leaves. A sense of love oozed from the interior walls of the cottage. Photographs of people - appearing as if they were filled with joy and surrounded by others whom they loved - sprawled across almost every wall. Each wall that wasn't covered in these delighted faces was filled from floor to ceiling with an array of books from every imaginable encyclopedia to the literary classics of Charlotte Brontë and Tolstoy.

Wilber ventured out of his house rarely, only for the bare necessities and even then he tried to stretch the time between each outing as far apart as possible. In the outside environment he felt as though the world was spinning slightly too fast on its axis, as if everything around him and himself could become un-hinged in a second.
As he stepped onto the footpath his heartbeat would speed up, a small pearl of perspiration would glide from his hairline, down the smooth wrinkles of his forehead to his furrowed brow.
In a swarm of people Wilber felt alone. He couldn't control his senses and instincts. His elevated stress levels did not decline in any sense until his little cottage was in view. Even then every step between him and his front door seemed to large.

As Wilber shut the heavy wooden door behind him and turned to see the ever anticipated comfort of his home, his breathing slowed. He closed his eyes and absorbed the familiar scents of everything he loved. Everything he needed. His muscles loosened as a sense of safety reigned over him.
His paralysing state of affinity was disturbed only when Alfedo glided past his calves and slumped at his feet, welcoming his closest companion back into their sanctuary.
This is where Wilber belonged, with the familiarity of his well kept books, his noble friend and his tired and treasured possessions. Wilber doesn't need the distractions of loud strangers or the buzz of morning coffee. He only needs the things he loves, for there with Alfredo and his books, he is whole.

Image via Weheartit.
Note: this is no way to treat books. Paper has a longer memory than elephants.

Monday, August 2, 2010

The fact of the matter is. Part ten.

The average adult human has two hundred and six bones.
Tim Walker photograph.

Friday, February 5, 2010

The fact of the matter is. Part nine.

Frogs cannot swallow without closing their eyes.
Image via Weheartit.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

The fact of the matter is. Part eight.

It is dangerous to stand in small boats.
Image via Weheartit.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

The fact of the matter is. Part seven.

The left lung is smaller than the right allowing room for the heart.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

The fact of the matter is. Part six

On average there are eight peas in a pod.
Image via Weheartit.

Friday, July 31, 2009

The Fact of the Matter Is. Part Five

Eating acorns can result in kidney failure.
fox albert image.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

The Fact of the Matter Is. Part Four


Flamingo's pink colour is caused by eating prawns.
Image from VogueGirl.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

The Fact of the Matter Is. Part Three

A building in which silence is enforced is called a silentium.
Image via Polyvore.

Monday, June 22, 2009

The Fact of the Matter Is. Part two

The average person spends two weeks of their life kissing.
Image via LeLove.

Monday, June 15, 2009

The Fact of the Matter Is.

Grass-hoppers communicate by push-ups.
Image via WeHeartIt.