wonderfly.

My dad always told us kids, that when he and my mom first dated, they had a walk on the seaside and met >>us<< - in form of 4 wonderful little fireflies.

from digital photo blog found via todayyouinspiredme

Whistle in the elevator!

(...)

HAPPY: (...) The trouble with you in business was you never tried to please people. 

BIFF: I know, I -

HAPPY: Like when you worked for Harrison's. Bob Harrison said you were tops, and then you go and do some damn fool things like whistling whole songs in the elevator like a comedian. 

BIFF (against Happy): So what? I like to whistle sometimes.

HAPPY: You don't raise a guy to a responsible job who whistles in the elevator!

(...)

BIFF: I don’t care what they think! They’ve laughed at Dad for years,and you know why? Because we don’t belong in this nuthouse of a city! We should be mixing cement on some open plain or — or carpenters. A carpenter is allowed to whistle!

(Willy walks in (...))

WILLY: Even your grandfather was better than a carpenter. (Pause. They watch him.) You never grew up. Bernard does not whistle in the elevator,  I assure you. 

BIFF (as though to laugh Willy out of it): Yeah, but you do, Pop. 

WILLY: I never in my life whistled in an elevator! And who in the businessworld thinks I'm crazy?

(...)

from Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller, 1949.

Carla Carnival.

On my sisters wall I found this cute polaroid pic of her (in the middle) painted as a clown. It was a project with her art-class in highschool. Those right and left are from Luke Stephenson's series "The painted Faces".

My dearest Deer.

Again my crappy phone-cam. And my cute little brother dancing for me.