#Marble Quay

[whats-in-a-sentence]

On the near side was a quay of white marble and, moored to this, the ship: a tall ship with high forecastle and high poop, gilded and crimson, with a great flag at the mast-head, and many banners waving from the decks, and a row of shields, bright as silver, along the bulwarks.

"The Chronicles of Narnia: The Silver Chair" - C. S. Lewis

[permament-witzelsucht]

Vasily Vereshchagin | Evening on the lake. One of the pavilions on the marble promenade in Radzhnagar, 1874 | Radzhnagar. Marble, adorned with bas-reliefs quay on the lake in Udaipur, 1874 |

[emyn-arnens]

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

🥰 thank you

Thanks for the ask! 💕 Here's a bit of my Andreth and Aegnor reunion in the Halls WIP:

The tapestries' images seemed to move, if she looked at them long enough, and she was certain they showed glimpses of the history of Men—and perhaps Elves, too, for some of the images resembled the stories Aegnor and Finrod had once shared with her.  There, perhaps, in deep blues and white, was their flight and long wandering upon the Ice. And there, in threads of scarlet, the day so many of their kin had been slain upon the long quays of marble and crushed pearl, and the waves had washed the shores with blood-red foam. Aegnor and Finrod had spoken little of that day when recounting the history of their people to her, but Andreth had read in their hollow eyes and averted gazes what they had not spoken with words, and now she read the rest of the tale in the stark threads before her. Sorrow pierced the tapestry like thorns.

For every "🌹" received in my inbox I'll post one random sentence of a random WIP I'm currently writing.

[rion-writes]

Revenge of the Quay (Part 2)

I believe Amari Quay will return.

We've got textual context including Fetch being wrong for the stage he set. A summation he gives to her situation appears in Dead Man in a Ditch Chapter 9,

Amari was a Wood Nymph. A Forest Sprite. Larger than the Fae back at the pharmacy but just as precious. Once upon a time, she’d been the most magical thing in the world. You can keep your sunsets, shooting stars and babies’ laughter. All those birthday-card ideas of what makes life worth living. I’d trade them all if she could say a single word again. Amari hadn’t moved a muscle in six years. She was stuck in place. Turned to wood. Splintered and cracked.

Seems pretty point blank- except Fetch is wrong and contradictory to what he described in Last Smile Chapter 15, " A couple of years ago, I convinced them to come to the mansion with me and try to move her body. That was before we realized Amari had sprouted roots that were embedded into the floor".

Amari the Wood Nymph hadn't been stationary. She'd been rooting still unlike other fae in the Church, It looked more like someone had carved out an old tree stump. The flesh of the Fae’s head was firm, like petrified wood, but filled with tiny tunnels. Looking closer, I could see that his insides were marbled with silver; just the faint glimmer of something shiny, like spider’s web or starlight, threaded into his muscles and bone.

These were forest creatures. That meant that, unlike the creature on the signpost, their bodies were still growing. Little vines had crawled out from their shoulders and back, wrapped around their bodies, and tightened, crushing their limbs. Under the snow, the foliage must have spread out to reach the nearest trees because there were leaves there; little ones, born from the threads of vine that sprouted out from the creatures decomposing on the floor. It was all too familiar. All too sad. [ Dead Man, Chapter 11]

I'd make the argument that growing vines was not the same thing and rooting but that seems pedantic- except that not all the Fae did, and not all the Fae remained. I wouldn't go as far to say Amari was thriving in the first book post-Coda, but there was some indication of natural life still blooming from her, especially in he context to how the quick-drying Fae in the Church are again described slightly different than Amari's plundered corpse:

Her body was where it had always been but the ground around her was scattered with sawdust and curls of papery bark. Her hair crunched between my fingers like autumn leaves and pieces of her skin snapped off in my shaking fingers. She crumbled under my touch and I crushed her body into a million tiny pieces. All empty. All cold. She dissolved into dust and with every breath, I blew another piece of her away. Just in case. I’d been right to do it, too, because some piece of her had remained. A glowing heart full of power. Full of life. [ Dead Man, Chapter 72]

This isn't the last time Amari and her body are slightly out of normal for Fae and the Coda, but there's a few steps before that one. Add to that the context we get at the start and the end of Dead Man in a Ditch specifically about a certain Tree.

The story goes that there was once a tree whose roots reached so deep into the planet that they touched the great river itself. One spring, the branches bore a crop of rare apples infused with sacred power. When a herd of wild horses passed beneath the tree, they fed upon that fruit and the magic caused spirals of purple mist to spin out from their foreheads. [ Dead Man, Chapter 1]

"The story goes that when the horses ate the apples from the sacred tree, a piece of pure magic attached itself to their minds. This isn’t like the Faeries at all. This is more like unlocking a piece of the river itself."[ Dead Man, Chapter 79].

What happens when the magic (aka Materia just call it what it was) taken from her body was used? Well, some magic cores were fiery. Hers went literal.

“No,” said the dishwasher, refilling his glass. “Apparently a whole tree grew right out of the ground. It destroyed the walls of the Gullet and let Tippity climb to safety. Sounds crazy.” Hendricks in my office, he had an orb in his hands. He was holding it up to the light and splashing the acid around inside. He’d asked if he could borrow it. I’d let him. And then a tree had grown out of the ground.[ Dead Man, Chapter 71]

There were no clouds overhead, and the freshly grown leaves went translucent when they caught the light of the sunset, turning every shade of green. The twisted branches were painted with fluffy patches of moss and wrapped in dainty loops of vine. Dewy pink flowers, white buds, and shoots of long grass sprouted from the stringy bark. The whole place shimmered with butterfly wings and buzzing bees. I pressed the palm of my hand against her trunk. She was cool to the touch. Rough. There was a bend in one of the branches. When I put my hand around it, it felt like she was holding me too. I squeezed. She was strong. I put my forehead against her bark and closed my eyes. Under the bees and the wind and the hum of the factories, I swear I could hear her breathing. [Dead Man, Chapter 79]

A tree had burst from its walls about a year ago. The plant had once been a Sprite, then a statue, and was now a towering landmark looking over all of Sunder. She’d gone bare during the winter, but now her branches were budding, and her trunk was shedding bark to reveal fresh, pale layers underneath. She was huge, and she was still growing, her limbs reaching out towards the lights of the city. Insects buzzed between her branches. Her first new leaves opened like beckoning hands that unfurled from each other, ready to return her to her fullest glory over the coming weeks. She could breathe. She could feel the sun and drink the rain; watch the days rise and fall and the city turn, and her old idiotic friend run around in circles waiting to figure things out. I put my hand against her. Her trunk was thick, and her roots were deep. She was strong. [ One Foot, Chapter 17]

Our girl Amari might be more tree than tree nymph right now but I don't expect that to be the status quo for too long. Lets disregard for a minute that Amari had always been more earth bound natural than other magical beings, "This was different. There was something effortless and almighty about how she carried her power. The magic wasn’t something she used but an intrinsic part of herself. It was primal and breathtaking." [Last Smile, Chapter 13].

Fetch can be right about things sometimes. In Dead Man, Fetch also considers that the Fae knew something was happening since "It wasn’t impossible. Faeries were a perfect blend of magic and matter, closer to the sacred river than any other creature." [ Dead Man, Chapter 10].

How did that conversation come out? Well, Fetch checked in with someone smarter and more rational than him: Baxter, a something that didn't appear to be affected by the Coda. As mentioned, Amari was already something as a part of an anomaly group. Between him and Baxter they sussed out:

“But what about the corpses? I never thought about it before, but I didn’t see any Fae bodies after the Coda. I guess I assumed they’d just vanished; turned back into pixie dust or something. But that didn’t happen to Amari and it turns out that didn’t happen to a lot of them.” Baxter lost the last of their enthusiasm. “What do you mean, a lot of them?”[ Dead Man, Chapter 10]

Most fae bodies disappeared on account of being tied so utterly close to the Great River. From the Fae that remained with a tangible body, all but one known one so far stopped at once like the magic stopped at once for everything.

Except Amari.

My heart was beating loud in my ears at an uneven rhythm and my feet left bloody prints on the polished floor. The only sound I could hear was the soft groan that came from her strained little body. She was fighting it. Her white knuckles gripped her sides and her eyes were wide and full of tears that splashed upon the floor. I got down on my knees. Her breath on my face became a little softer, a little shorter, a little colder every time. “What can I do?” I said. What a question. She forced her eyes to look at me and I could see the pattern of woodgrain creeping into her face. Dry flakes of bark curled out from what had once been the soft skin of her cheeks. The matte, gray timber that had replaced her long and powerful legs already looked old and immovable. She was a statue with living eyes and even they were leaving her. [ Last Smile, Chapter 32]

Amari was one of the most magical creatures in the world and she fought to survive? move? hold on help? when no one else as magical as her did. Elves decayed and died in minutes. No more flight for anything. She was a Fae that got her life force from the Great River.

And maybe somewhere else at the end.

It would be entirely unethical to think that people would brutalize and take advantage of the weak for magic [Tipperity, Linda], roughly use whatever resources they had left [Hendricks], or gladly feast on others for a smidge of a chance[ Rye], certainly not before the Coda that made everyone desperate, except the Wizards.

Because Wizards "were able to summon energy from some far-off place to the space between their hands" doesn't mean that they would be so vulgar to draw from something " closer to the sacred river than any other creature". After All, Fetch knows exactly how Wizard would choose to work,

This cry was full of grief. I turned and saw a woman, her palms empty and open, her face a vision of pain. She sent a stream of light right in my direction and I took the hit straight to my heart. Magic burned from her fingers, striking somewhere deep inside my chest. It wasn’t a single bolt, but a prolonged and intensifying torture like a hot coal being pushed into my flesh. The pain held my eyes open so I had no choice but to look at her face as she howled with fury. For a moment, I could have sworn it was Amari, screaming through tears as her outstretched hand forced pure hatred into my body, cooking my chest from the inside. [Last Smile, Chapter 24]

He knows Wizards would never do something like pull Magic from places it shouldn't. So much so that he even remembers,

The birds were screeching but I couldn’t make sense of them. No. Not birds. Voices. Not screeching either. Screaming. I dropped the sword. My hands were covered in blood. Fresh. Glistening. Not mine, though. No. The blood belonged to the body at my feet. I’d killed them. More screaming. Louder. I killed it all. The world was already breaking. Blood thick on my fingers. On my soul. A scream, louder than the others, cuts me. A woman. Eyes of accusation. Of hate. She readies her attack.

Do it. I think. Kill me. I deserve it for what I’ve done. She screams again. I don’t stop her. She pushes the pain into my heart.[One Foot, Chapter 45]

Such an interesting dream brought to his mind after Khay's kiss leaves a mark on him. There's really nothing special about Fetch except the markings and things he carries around on him - and some of that might be Amari Quay.

[buffalojournal]

Two Poems by Morgan L. Ventura

A Brief Synesthetic History

When I look around it could be said we are living in dark times, the walls & skies & sea & clouds & spaces within me, obsidian smoke, pitch tar, pooled oil. It tastes of ash & petrol & mould & the edge of a boiled knife & I hear the whooshing whooping of distant stars – black holes – ebony arias bending, twisting vibrations. What’s true is I want brighter times, amber & magenta times, spirals of smiling roses & giddy peonies, & detonations of laughing citrine. Times that carry the blush of wisteria, caramel popcorn, earnest eucalyptus. I was born in green times – aventurine smiles & verdant yards blooming viridian jewels, emerald & jade hanging from low branches, wistful and content. The 80s rainforest transmutes blue. Periwinkle times, the 90s breathed cornflower winds and bluebell gales, husked sapphire on metal plates, glimmering robin eggs on cedar porch chirping an unearthly jingle piercing aquamarine eyes of my father who knew only sadness. The sky only spoke rain, it was falling sea, shredded wave, lacerated labradorite, cascades of troubled cerulean. Shocked like glaciers arguing, raging because all’s spilled into red. A time of crimson, furls of fuchsia in the tide of blood after flames across New York, after strikes in Chicago, after death in the family. The 2000s were carnelian, lay the bead beneath my tongue, the rubies on my eyes, enshrine me in magma, encrust me in this livid tomb. Vitrine of vermillion, what is a body but stained glass, medieval sun never modern. The next era’s violet, arched, mutilated candy blossoming from irises in the back. In the evening light it all shivers purple, bruised lilacs yammer & portend a luminous love. Amethyst troves in the attic squirm & emit warmth, simmering with snapdragon & grapes, pisco vineyard from a decade ago, time punctured by lazy lost lagoons. Take me now into what seems like blank times, off-shades of pale peeling into crystal pears & glass shards as we wait, & the iridescent soul in the body of the future, the cloud high above spitting quartz & splitting mirrors, declares these are rainbow times, & I have to tell you, I love all the colours, I want all the colours. World, let me bathe in your prisms & drink your light. This marbled soil, this striated sky. I’d be no one & nowhere without.

 Internal Monologue of an Anthropologist in Paris

i.

My mother said if I fail on my new adventure I can live in her closet.

My French roommate has shit in my bed after having a midlife crisis at 29.

On television I look like an idiot. Even smart, floral blazers from the 10th Arrondissement make me look like a cartoon character because I’m very small.

They want to hire me as a curatorial fellow at the Musée du Quai Branly but then I have to stay here and oh, how I know the Parisians suffer.

Every Thursday there is a voracious vacuuming in the flat above me at 6am and I am suddenly murderous. I strike the ceiling with my broom and the ceiling strikes back.

ii.

My life is an Antonioni film. At the Sorbonne, I’m asked to describe my unwritten doctoral thesis in front of four medieval historians and a self-proclaimed spiritualist who spends most of his time at Père Lachaise by the grave of some important figure whose name I can’t remember. I whirl around in my seat and quip, “It is about nothing with precision.”

iii.

The community in Oaxaca wants me to ask the Mexican government to return the collection it stole but I’m merely an anthropologist, when did we ever hold power?

Margaret Mead was barely 5’0” and carried a walking stick taller than herself, which she’d use to intimidate men. That’s power.

I’m invited by the History Channel to appear on Ancient Aliens after my undergraduate advisor, a certain Mayanist, declines and thinks it would be hilarious to give them my personal email. “We will pay you $300,” they tell me. I think seriously about it.

Pseudoscience is absurd but my life is absurd. My next-door neighbour smokes cigarettes naked while his parrot shits on the patio. A colleague informs me they irrationally hate my surname.

“Would you like a career in anthropology?” my PhD advisor asks me after I tell him about the invite. This, coming from a man whose faculty headshot features him sacrificing a chicken.

Anthropologists don’t deserve careers, I think. But I sure enjoy all the grant and fellowship money, society’s conviction that we are worth something because “we are scientists.”

I don’t want a career, I conclude.

iv.

Over lunch in the EHESS cafeteria, my friend says everyone here complains too much and that the Parisians are insane and create their own chaos.

My brother texts me because my mother is in jail. She should stay there.

I go for coffee with an artist in Le Marais. The owner comes out to scream at all of us who dare to use their laptops and take up too much time – or space.

Claude Lévi-Strauss helped found UNESCO. Franz Boas died in his arms. Claude’s a structuralist and I despise structure. Will I die in the arms of anyone?

When Bronislaw Malinowski died, we all found out that he was a pervert. His field notebooks were festooned with scribbles of his interlocutor’s boobs.

“Anthropologists are very interesting, no?” asks the barista I’ve befriended at perhaps the most hipster café I could find.

I don’t know, are we?

Am I?

[ortegadorra]

Let Me Assign You a Love Language → LINK

igualmente  enviado  por  @cubitumeamvs.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀closed.

a  knife  called  grief.  “  você  deixou  sua  casa,  deixou  aquelas  pessoas  para  trás,  mas  o  que  irá  fazer  sobre  as  memórias  que  estão  enraizadas  em  ti?  pode  correr,  mas  não  sem  elas.  queres  alguém  para  sentar  com  você  nesse  chão  de  mármore  frio  enquanto  o  sol  queima  tudo.  você  quer  que  (  esse  alguém  )  corte  seu  coração  podre  e  o  dele  próprio  também.  você  quer  sentar  com  ( os  corações  podres  )  em  sua  frente,  deixar  (  esse  alguém  )  te  enxergar  com  todos  seus  defeitos,  os  quais  não  são  sua  culpa  mas  você  foi  levado  à  acreditar  que  sim,  e  você  quer  que  (  esse  alguém  )  te  ame  apesar  disso.  porque  você  sabe  que  faria  o  mesmo  (  por  esse  alguém ). ” 

original: 

“ you  have  left  your  house,  you  have  left  those  people  behind,  but  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  the  memories  which  have  taken  root  in  you?  you  can  run  but  not  without  them.  you  want  someone  to  sit  with  you  on  this  cool  marble  floor  while  the  sun  burns  everything.  you  want  them  to  cut  your  rotten  heart  adn  theirs  too.  you  want  to  sit  with  it  in  front  of  you,  let  them  see  you  with  all  your  flaws,  which  haven’t  been  your  fault  but  you  have  been  made  to  believe  so,  and  you  want  them  to  love  you  anyways.  because  you  know  you’d  do  that  for  them. ”

[beedreamscape]

This one is just sad n quite a bit nsfw from the first line so I placed it under the cut, to be read if you're feeling angsty.

(Laerryn/Loquatius. Pre-divorce, like on the cusp. TW for mentions of grief and self-image conceptions. 1.2k words)

There's no pleasure when he comes. There's the release, but no catharsis. No kissing, no loving touches, no words or laughter. The usual delicious breathlessness present in the lull post-orgasm feels more like a struggle against a weight on his chest.

Laerryn has her eyes squeezed shut and her forearms crossed over her forehead; she's not looking at him, she's actively not looking at him.

The least of the reassurances he needs, she doesn't give.

So, for the first time, there's shame.

It was the last of his resorts to reaching out to her --- words escaped her, affections grew cold, even the companionable silence they shared has become heavy with the ghost hovering between them ---, resting in the confidence he knows her body, knows how to work his magic to make her crumble.

But it's almost as if she makes an effort to keep him out. It's no longer a mingling of souls, but a satisfaction of physical needs that ends where it begins.

He fears the camel's back been broken for longer than he took notice and he's been travelling over its dead body under the illusion he's been moving forward, desert behind him, desert before him.

Loquatius, then, pulls away and his nakedness seems enhanced, every flaw a gaping wound, every edge ragged and torn, every surface thin. He feels vulgar. He turns away from her and almost instinctively shifts into some other version of himself, any version, in a quick shudder.

He doesn't see when Laerryn opens her eyes. She notices he's shaking as he leaves the bed, seeking his robe on the coat hanger.

"Quay." He continues putting it on, ties it around his waist. "Loquatius."

He can't possibly explain, can't possibly pretend. He's fighting the tears, thus his eyes burn.

Sitting up, she calls his true name with a firmness in her voice, the strings of each Sylvan letter swelling with power in her mouth. It is not a command, not an order, but it calls to his very instinct of answering her calls. He finally stops but his tremble worsens and his skin shifts hues along with it.

"Look at me, Quay." He turns to her very slowly and she's not sure his blank eyes are truly fixed on her. He blinks repeatedly. "What have I done?"

And the question extends beyond this one moment, this one night, it flips into dozens of meanings like shards of a broken crystal. It cuts him.

"Nothing, darling," his voice is quiet and shaky.

She knows it's not true, where it cuts him, it cuts her. "Then where are you going?"

He doesn't have an answer, he can't lie, he can't pretend, he can't... hide. Her eyes cut like blades, sharp in every edge and every line.

"Come back to bed." There's no shade of coaxing, this now is an order.

She holds out her hand for him. Laerryn can feel the muscles of her face tense into a frown and takes an effort to soothe them out. After a moment, he steps closer and takes it.

She drags herself closer and pulls him against the edge of the bed, tugging the silk robe off of him and onto the floor. He offers no resistance nor makes any comments, so the weight of the moment just grows heavier on her. She snakes an arm around his waist and draws him to her until he's knelt on the bed.

She looks up at his face. "Change back."

He's on his knees on the bed for her, exposed skin fading into opalescent grey marbled with thin black tendrils, he glows with sweat yet to dry. Laerryn runs her hands down his body, tracing her palms along the familiar shape of him, taut muscles and long limbs, half her soul, infuriatingly beautiful.

She feels his muscle twitch as her hands reach his hipbones.

"Don't you dare treat me like a stranger."

"I'm not," he says between teeth.

It's clear she's breaking him, has been breaking him ever since Evandrin, perhaps even before that. It's also clear as day he's not doing anything to save himself from her.

She isn't certain what the purpose of the act is and just allows instinct to guide her. She leans in and bites his waist, what little of fat he possesses, until she's satisfied and his fingers are in her hair, observing with a pleasurable gurgle in her guts the purple grey set of teeth imprint left. His breath is shallow and he still trembles.

It's not done to excite him necessarily, it's still too soon and it won't solve what made him recoil in the first place, but something in the way she hurts him grounds him, grounds her, cuts through the distance separating them even if temporarily.

She does the same on the other side and continues biting down until she hears his breath shake. There are few things she can't bear and to be pushed away by Loquatius is one of those, especially now, after losing her best friend, she's never felt lonelier.

She rests her head on the pit of his stomach, feels him breathing against her, and tries retracing how it all came together to start with and at which point it started cracking.

Loquatius keeps his hand on her hair and tries to keep his concerns and fears away, warding off the tsunami with a parasol, even if just for this fleeting instant. He's never been more vulnerable, never been this close to anyone, and knows that, if they break apart, he won't ever be able to emulate it with anyone else.

She resumes the motions after a moment, gently pulling him down onto the bed along with her and he allows himself to be moved. Turned to each other, under covers, she forces him to face her, to confront whatever in her that made him break. She's holding his body flush against her own, she's entwining their legs, she's silently telling him to run as far from her as he can.

But instead, Loquatius touches her gently, nuzzles against the crook of her neck, closes his eyes and breathes her in. He doesn't need to see her to know exactly what's plaguing him and causing his soul to ache.

"I love you, Laerryn," he says and it has no shade of romance. It's a dagger, it's a boulder, an indisputable accusation.

There are inside her feelings about him, forces that steer her in his direction time and time again, recorded memory of the pleasure he gave gives will give her. But something repeats in dissonant echoes in his mind ever growing doubts about her sentiments, those he understood so well once upon a time, about what he believed to be the unquestionable truth.

(Because she said yes, has been saying yes for the past five years.)

Seeing how grief broke her and left nothing but a shadow of the woman he loved behind, he wonders what did she ever love about him. Either him as a man, as a whole, or as pieces that yield him together, that once entertained and satisfied her, but now too small and excessive for her to carry.

In spite of that, he's weak and completely in love with her, and while his words hang in crushing silence, he isn't sure he cares that much what about him that makes her stay so long as she stays.

A deep sigh that makes her chest rise against his face heralds her words. "I don't think love alone can contain what I feel for you, Quay. But for now, it'll have to suffice. I love you."

He makes a sound in response and let's her words simmer in his brain. A moment long enough passes that either could've fallen asleep until she speaks with a voice verging on tears.

"I'm sorry."

And he knows it's not only for the things she's done, but the things she'll do.

His head remains on her chest. "I know. I love you."

[lesmislettersdaily]

At Bombarda's

Volume 1: Fantine; Book 3: In The Year 1817; Chapter 5: At Bombarda's

The Russian mountains having been exhausted, they began to think about dinner; and the radiant party of eight, somewhat weary at last, became stranded in Bombarda’s public house, a branch establishment which had been set up in the Champs-Élysées by that famous restaurant-keeper, Bombarda, whose sign could then be seen in the Rue de Rivoli, near Delorme Alley.

A large but ugly room, with an alcove and a bed at the end (they had been obliged to put up with this accommodation in view of the Sunday crowd); two windows whence they could survey beyond the elms, the quay and the river; a magnificent August sunlight lightly touching the panes; two tables; upon one of them a triumphant mountain of bouquets, mingled with the hats of men and women; at the other the four couples seated round a merry confusion of platters, dishes, glasses, and bottles; jugs of beer mingled with flasks of wine; very little order on the table, some disorder beneath it;

“They made beneath the table

A noise, a clatter of the feet that was abominable,”

says Molière.

This was the state which the shepherd idyl, begun at five o’clock in the morning, had reached at half-past four in the afternoon. The sun was setting; their appetites were satisfied.

The Champs-Élysées, filled with sunshine and with people, were nothing but light and dust, the two things of which glory is composed. The horses of Marly, those neighing marbles, were prancing in a cloud of gold. Carriages were going and coming. A squadron of magnificent body-guards, with their clarions at their head, were descending the Avenue de Neuilly; the white flag, showing faintly rosy in the setting sun, floated over the dome of the Tuileries. The Place de la Concorde, which had become the Place Louis XV. once more, was choked with happy promenaders. Many wore the silver fleur-de-lys suspended from the white-watered ribbon, which had not yet wholly disappeared from button-holes in the year 1817. Here and there choruses of little girls threw to the winds, amid the passers-by, who formed into circles and applauded, the then celebrated Bourbon air, which was destined to strike the Hundred Days with lightning, and which had for its refrain:—

“Rendez-nous notre père de Gand,

Rendez-nous notre père.”

“Give us back our father from Ghent,

Give us back our father.”

Groups of dwellers in the suburbs, in Sunday array, sometimes even decorated with the fleur-de-lys, like the bourgeois, scattered over the large square and the Marigny square, were playing at rings and revolving on the wooden horses; others were engaged in drinking; some journeyman printers had on paper caps; their laughter was audible. Everything was radiant. It was a time of undisputed peace and profound royalist security; it was the epoch when a special and private report of Chief of Police Anglès to the King, on the subject of the suburbs of Paris, terminated with these lines:—

“Taking all things into consideration, Sire, there is nothing to be feared from these people. They are as heedless and as indolent as cats. The populace is restless in the provinces; it is not in Paris. These are very pretty men, Sire. It would take all of two of them to make one of your grenadiers. There is nothing to be feared on the part of the populace of Paris the capital. It is remarkable that the stature of this population should have diminished in the last fifty years; and the populace of the suburbs is still more puny than at the time of the Revolution. It is not dangerous. In short, it is an amiable rabble.

Prefects of the police do not deem it possible that a cat can transform itself into a lion; that does happen, however, and in that lies the miracle wrought by the populace of Paris. Moreover, the cat so despised by Count Anglès possessed the esteem of the republics of old. In their eyes it was liberty incarnate; and as though to serve as pendant to the Minerva Aptera of the Piræus, there stood on the public square in Corinth the colossal bronze figure of a cat. The ingenuous police of the Restoration beheld the populace of Paris in too “rose-colored” a light; it is not so much of “an amiable rabble” as it is thought. The Parisian is to the Frenchman what the Athenian was to the Greek: no one sleeps more soundly than he, no one is more frankly frivolous and lazy than he, no one can better assume the air of forgetfulness; let him not be trusted nevertheless; he is ready for any sort of cool deed; but when there is glory at the end of it, he is worthy of admiration in every sort of fury. Give him a pike, he will produce the 10th of August; give him a gun, you will have Austerlitz. He is Napoleon’s stay and Danton’s resource. Is it a question of country, he enlists; is it a question of liberty, he tears up the pavements. Beware! his hair filled with wrath, is epic; his blouse drapes itself like the folds of a chlamys. Take care! he will make of the first Rue Grenétat which comes to hand Caudine Forks. When the hour strikes, this man of the faubourgs will grow in stature; this little man will arise, and his gaze will be terrible, and his breath will become a tempest, and there will issue forth from that slender chest enough wind to disarrange the folds of the Alps. It is, thanks to the suburban man of Paris, that the Revolution, mixed with arms, conquers Europe. He sings; it is his delight. Proportion his song to his nature, and you will see! As long as he has for refrain nothing but la Carmagnole, he only overthrows Louis XVI.; make him sing the Marseillaise, and he will free the world.

This note jotted down on the margin of Anglès’ report, we will return to our four couples. The dinner, as we have said, was drawing to its close.

[candelasobscuras]

Goddamn the marble border getting more and more broken with each episode jfc

“I don’t plan to murder all of you because I think some of you may murder one another” good god good god

“Fire.” -unintelligible noises from cast

Yup. Theres the “are you weakest, do you feel, at the elbow or the shoulder” horrific question

Wow. Okay. Theyve said they want to throw up a lot. And now I do too.

God the arm is in the tree. Just the arm.

Goddamn this is a very long second.

holy shit holy shit holy shit magical items being sundered????

oh my god the thing laerryn gave quay is the only thing not sundered????

1/?

[whisperthatruns]

Parisian Dream

I That marvelous landscape of my dream — Which no eye knows, nor ever will — At moments, wide awake, I seem To grasp, and it excites me still. Sleep, how miraculous you are — A strange caprice had urged my hand To banish, as irregular, All vegetation from that land; And, proud of what my art had done, I viewed my painting, knew the great Intoxicating monotone Of marble, water, steel and slate. Staircases and arcades there were In a long labyrinth, which led To a vast palace; fountains there Were gushing gold, and gushing lead. And many a heavy cataract Hung like a curtain, — did not fall, As water does, but hung, compact, Crystal, on many a metal wall. Tall nymphs with Titan breasts and knees Gazed at their images unblurred, Where groves of colonnades, not trees, Fringed a deep pool where nothing stirred. Blue sheets of water, left and right, Spread between quays of rose and green, To the world's end and out of sight, And still expanded, though unseen. Enchanted rivers, those — with jade And jasper were their banks bedecked; Enormous mirrors, dazzled, made Dizzy by all they did reflect. And many a Ganges, taciturn And heedless, in the vaulted air, Poured out the treasure of its urn Into a gulf of diamond there. As architect, it tempted me To tame the ocean at its source; And this I did, — I made the sea Under a jeweled culvert course. And every color, even black, Became prismatic, polished, bright; The liquid gave its glory back Mounted in iridescent light. There was no moon, there was no sun, — For why should sun and moon conspire To light such prodigies? — each one Blazed with its own essential fire! A silence like eternity Prevailed, there was no sound to hear; These marvels all were for the eye, And there was nothing for the ear. II I woke; my mind was bright with flame; I saw the cheap and sordid hole I live in, and my cares all came Burrowing back into my soul. Brutally the twelve strokes of noon Against my naked ear were hurled; And a gray sky was drizzling down Upon this sad, lethargic world.

Charles Baudelaire, tr. Edna St. Vincent Millay, Flowers of Evil (1936)

[inducthanh]

Tư vấn chọn mẫu: 45+ ý tưởng in túi thời trang mới

In túi thời trang không chỉ là cách tốt để đóng gói sản phẩm mà còn là một phần quan trọng của chiến lược quảng cáo và xây dựng thương hiệu. Để giúp bạn có những ý tưởng mới và độc đáo cho việc in túi thời trang, dưới đây là một số tư vấn với hơn 101 ý tưởng sáng tạo.

Minimalist Chic: Thiết kế đơn giản với màu sắc trắng hoặc đen, tạo nên vẻ thanh lịch và hiện đại.

Nature-Inspired: Sử dụng hình ảnh và mẫu thiết kế được lấy cảm hứng từ thiên nhiên, như hoa lá, cỏ cây, hay động vật.

Geometric Patterns: Tạo hình khối học và họa tiết hình học để tạo nên một túi độc đáo.

Watercolor Elegance: Sử dụng kỹ thuật màu nước để tạo ra một túi thời trang với vẻ ngoại hình mềm mại và quyến rũ.

Vintage Vibes: Lựa chọn hình ảnh hoặc font chữ mang phong cách retro để đưa khách hàng quay về quá khứ.

Quirky Illustrations: In hình minh họa độc đáo và hài hước để làm nổi bật túi thời trang của bạn.

Bold Typography: Sử dụng font chữ lớn và táo bạo để tạo nên một thông điệp mạnh mẽ.

Metallic Accents: Thêm các chi tiết kim loại như vàng, bạc, hoặc đồng để tăng cường vẻ sang trọng.

Abstract Art: Sử dụng nghệ thuật trừu tượng để tạo ra một túi thời trang nổi bật và sáng tạo.

Monochrome Magic: Tự giảm màu sắc xuống chỉ một hoặc hai tông màu để tạo ra một vẻ đẹp tối giản.

Cultural Fusion: Kết hợp các yếu tố văn hóa từ nhiều quốc gia để tạo nên một túi độc đáo và đa dạng.

Artistic Texture: Sử dụng các loại giấy đặc biệt hoặc in nổi để tạo ra vẻ ngoại hình độc đáo.

Funky Patterns: Sử dụng các họa tiết nổi bật và táo bạo như sọc ngang, chấm bi hay họa tiết hoa.

Photographic Print: In ảnh hoặc hình ảnh chất lượng cao trực tiếp lên túi giấy để tạo ra một sản phẩm cá nhân.

Seasonal Themes: Tự doạ hình ảnh và màu sắc theo mùa vụ, chẳng hạn như túi mùa hè tươi sáng hoặc túi mùa đông ấm áp.

Whimsical Wonderland: Sử dụng các hình ảnh động vật, ngôi sao, hoặc phép màu để tạo ra một không gian mộng mơ.

Denim Delight: Sử dụng vải jean để tạo ra một túi thời trang với vẻ ngoại hình cổ điển và thoải mái.

Doodle Designs: In những hình vẽ nhỏ, những đường nét đơn giản giống như vẽ tay để tạo nên một túi thời trang cá nhân.

Colorful Collage: Tạo một túi thời trang bằng cách kết hợp nhiều hình ảnh và màu sắc để tạo ra một bức tranh tổng hợp.

Retro Revival: Lấy cảm hứng từ những thập kỷ trước để tạo ra một túi thời trang đậm chất cổ điển.

Celestial Elements: Sử dụng các hình ảnh liên quan đến vũ trụ, như sao, mặt trời, và mặt trăng để tạo nên một túi thời trang siêu ngoại hình.

Pastel Paradise: Sử dụng gam màu nhẹ nhàng để tạo nên một túi thời trang dễ thương và tinh tế.

Camo Cool: Áp dụng họa tiết quân đội để tạo ra một túi thời trang cá tính.

Graphic Novel Style: In hình ảnh theo phong cách truyện tranh để tạo nên một túi thời trang độc đáo và thú vị.

Floral Frenzy: Sử dụng hình ảnh hoa lá và mẫu hoa văn để tạo nên một túi thời trang nữ tính và tươi mới.

Tropical Tinge: Kết hợp hình ảnh liên quan đến nhiệt đới, như lá cọ, quả dừa, để tạo nên một túi thời trang mang hơi thở mùa hè.

Graffiti Groove: Sử dụng các nét vẽ như graffiti để tạo nên một túi thời trang đầy năng động.

Marble Magic: Tạo hình ảnh giống như đá marble để tạo ra một túi thời trang sang trọng và hiện đại.

Striking Symmetry: Tự doạ các hình ảnh đối xứng để tạo nên một túi thời trang với vẻ ngoại hình cân đối và hài hòa.

Holographic Hues: Sử dụng màu sắc phản quang để tạo ra một túi thời trang nổi bật khi ánh sáng chiếu lên.

Landscaped Lines: Kết hợp các hình ảnh về cảnh đẹp tự nhiên, như núi, đồng cỏ, để tạo nên một túi thời trang gần gũi với thiên nhiên.

Abstract Anatomy: Sử dụng hình ảnh liên quan đến cấu trúc cơ bản của cơ thể, như xương và cơ, để tạo nên một túi thời trang độc đáo và nghệ thuật.

Typography Twist: Sử dụng các từ hoặc câu thoại quen thuộc và độc đáo để tạo ra một túi thời trang với thông điệp mạnh mẽ.

Wild West Wanderlust: Lấy cảm hứng từ miền Tây với hình ảnh của cactus, lụa cỏ, và chiếc mũ cowboy.

Oceanic Opulence: Kết hợp các yếu tố của đại dương, như sóng biển, hải cẩu, để tạo nên một túi thời trang biển bát ngát.

Futuristic Forms: Sử dụng các hình ảnh và họa tiết mang phong cách tương lai để tạo nên một túi thời trang hiện đại và góc cạnh.

Velvet Vibrance: In túi thời trang với chất liệu như nhung để tạo nên một vẻ đẹp mềm mại và sang trọng.

Fruit Fiesta: Kết hợp hình ảnh các loại trái cây như dâu, cam, và chuối để tạo ra một túi thời trang với vẻ ngoại hình tươi mới.

Dazzling Diamonds: Sử dụng họa tiết kim cương để tạo nên một túi thời trang lộng lẫy và quý phái.

Inspirational Quotes: In các câu nói ý nghĩa hoặc lời động viên để tạo nên một túi thời trang tích cực và ý nghĩa.

Mystical Moonlight: Sử dụng hình ảnh của mặt trăng, sao và đêm tối để tạo ra một túi thời trang mang vẻ đẹp bí ẩn.

Pop Art Parade: Lấy cảm hứng từ nghệ thuật pop để tạo nên một túi thời trang sôi động và trẻ trung.

Glamorous Glitter: Thêm phần lấp lánh và hoa lá cho túi thời trang của bạn để tạo nên một vẻ ngoại hình sang trọng.

Feathered Fantasy: Kết hợp hình ảnh của lông vũ và động vật có lông để tạo ra một túi thời trang với vẻ đẹp tự nhiên.

Rainbow Riot: Sử dụng mọi tông màu của cầu vồng để tạo ra một túi thời trang sáng tạo và lôi cuốn.

 Nguồn Bài Viết:

In túi thời trang

[minhtuanmobile]

Các thông tin tuyệt mật về dòng Galaxy S24 bị rò rỉ

Các thông tin tuyệt mật về dòng Galaxy S24 sắp ra mắt của Samsung lại tiếp tục bị rò rỉ trước thời điểm ra mắt vào ngày 18/1 sắp tới.

Chỉ còn hơn 1 tuần nữa là dòng Galaxy S24 sẽ chính thức được ra mắt. Không có gì ngạc nhiên khi thông tin rò rỉ ngày càng xuất hiện nhiều hơn. Gần đây, người dùng tên Hossam Gamal trên X đã chia sẻ ảnh chụp màn hình từ bài trình chiếu về dòng Galaxy S24, hé lộ nhiều thông tin hấp dẫn.

Đầu tiên, Samsung tuyên bố rằng Galaxy S24 series mang lại màn hình sáng hơn tới 48% so với Galaxy S23 series. Bạn có thể kỳ vọng độ sáng tối đa và độ sáng tự động tối đa lần lượt là 2600 nits và 1500 nits. Họ cũng nói về thời gian phản hồi cảm ứng nhanh hơn 12%, mặc dù không tiết lộ số liệu chi tiết.

Về hiệu suất, hình ảnh xác nhận rằng sản phẩm sẽ trang bị vi xử lý Exynos 2400 hoặc Snapdragon 8 Gen 3. Chi tiết thú vị khác là các tựa game hỗ trợ dò tia (Ray Tracing) cũng được tiết lộ, bao gồm Diablo Immortal, NightCrow, Racing Master và Tarisland.

Thông tin về hệ thống máy ảnh Galaxy S24 Ultra cũng được hé lộ. Samsung nhấn mạnh về "hệ thống bốn máy ảnh chụp xa". Nguồn tin xác nhận máy ảnh chụp xa 5x 50MP với khả năng quay video 8K là chính xác. Galaxy S24 Ultra cũng sẽ có khả năng chụp ảnh 12MP ở mức thu phóng 10x, vượt trội so với thế hệ trước.

Cuối cùng, một hình ảnh khác cũng xác nhận các tùy chọn màu cho Galaxy S24. Bộ đôi Galaxy S24 và Galaxy S24+ sẽ có màu Amber Yellow, Cobalt Violet, Marble Grey và Onyx Black. Còn Galaxy S24 Ultra, người dùng có thể lựa chọn giữa Titanium Black, Titanium Grey, Titanium Violet và Titanium Yellow.

Tuy nhiên, vẫn không có đề cập đến Sapphire Blue, Sandstone Orange và Jade Green mà trước đó đã rò rỉ. Dù sao, đây là những lựa chọn màu độc quyền cho cửa hàng trực tuyến của Samsung.

Tác giả: kayden | Minh Tuấn Mobile

[rimaakter45]

Going to the Movies Just Got a Little More Luxurious: ODEON Luxe Glasgow Quay

In recent years, there has been a shift in the movie-going experience. No longer are audiences satisfied with simply going to a dimly lit theater, sitting in uncomfortable seats, and eating overpriced concession stand snacks. They want a luxurious experience that feels like a night out, and that is exactly what ODEON Luxe Glasgow Quay is providing. With its grand entrance, elegant interior, and plush reclining seats, ODEON Luxe Glasgow Quay is raising the bar for movie theaters. And that's not even mentioning the in-theater waiter service, which means you can enjoy a glass of wine or a gourmet meal without ever leaving your seat. Whether you're looking for a night of luxury or simply a comfortable place to watch the latest blockbuster, ODEON Luxe Glasgow Quay is sure to exceed your expectations.

ODEON Luxe Glasgow Quay is now open, and it's a luxurious cinema experience like no other:

The much-anticipated ODEON Luxe Glasgow Quay is now open, and it's a luxurious cinema experience like no other. With its grandiose exterior and luxurious interior, the cinema is a sight to behold. And with its prime location overlooking the River Clyde, it's the perfect place to enjoy a film in style. As you step inside, you're greeted by a marble-floored foyer with a grand staircase leading up to the cinema's three screens. The screens themselves are state-of-the-art, with the latest in projection and sound technology. And the seats are ultra-comfortable, with plenty of legroom and reclining options. But the real star of the show is the Luxe Lounge. This exclusive area is reserved for VIP guests, and it comes complete with its own bar and snacks menu. It's the perfect place to relax before or after your film. So if you're looking for a truly luxurious cinema experience, look no further than ODEON Luxe Glasgow Quay.

ODEON Luxe Glasgow Quay is the perfect place to enjoy a special night out at the movies, and it's sure to become a favourite with film fans in the city:

ODEON Luxe Glasgow Quay is the perfect place to enjoy a special night out at the movies, and it's sure to become a favourite with film fans in the city. The cinema has been designed with luxury in mind, and it shows in every detail. From the spacious, comfortable seats to the state-of-the-art sound and projection equipment, everything has been chosen to give guests the best possible experience. And it's not just about the films themselves. The ODEON Luxe Glasgow Quay also has a fabulous bar and restaurant, so you can enjoy a drink or bite to eat before or after the movie. Whether you're looking for a romantic night out or a fun night with friends, the ODEON Luxe Glasgow Quay is the perfect place to enjoy the best of both worlds.

The world of cinema is changing, and ODEON Luxe Glasgow Quay is leading the charge. With its luxurious setting and state-of-the-art facilities, ODEON Luxe is the perfect place to catch the latest blockbusters in style. So if you're looking for a truly special cinema experience, look no further than ODEON Luxe Glasgow Quay. Please visit here for ODEON Luxe Glasgow Quay  more information.

[danhbongsanbetongcnsg]

Các loại máy đánh bóng sàn bê tông thông dụng tại tphcm

Cùng với sự tiến bộ của xã hội, nhu cầu sống của con người không ngừng được nâng cao. Trong đó dịch vụ đánh bóng sàn bê tông không còn đơn thuần là lau sạch sàn nhà mà còn đòi hỏi sạch bong sáng bóng. Chính vì vậy các loại máy đánh bóng sàn cũng ngày càng được cải tiến và ra đời với nhiều dòng khác nhau. Dưới đây là một số loại máy đánh bóng sàn bê tông thông dụng tại TP.HCM mà bạn có thể tham khảo.

Máy mài và đánh bóng sàn bê tông Karva KVG-17E

Máy mài sàn bê tông Karva KVG-17E sở hữu động cơ công suất lớn lên đến 2.5HP, trong đó tốc độ quay của bàn chà là 200 vòng/phút. Với hệ thống bánh nhông truyền động làm tăng công suất đầu ra. Mặc dù có khối lượng là 90kg nhưng Karva KVG-17E nhìn chung được thiết kế tương đối nhỏ gọn khi vận hành cũng vô cùng êm ái và hiệu quả. Về chức năng, Karva KVG-17E thường dùng để đánh bóng các loại sàn đá granite, marble, đánh bóng sàn bê tông, đánh bóng cầu thang đá,... 

Máy mài sàn bê tông công nghiệp GT-700 điện 3 pha

GT-700 điện 3 pha là loại máy đánh bóng sàn đa chức năng hầu hết các chuyên gia thường sử dụng loại máy này để mài sàn thô và sàn không đồng đều, giúp loại bỏ các lớp bê tông gồ ghề còn thừa trên sàn nhà. Do GT-700 điện 3 pha được sản xuất trên dây chuyền  công nghệ hiện đại nên cũng sẽ mang đến cho người sử dụng cảm giác chất lượng vượt trội, hiệu quả hơn với công suất làm việc mạnh mẽ lên tới 15KW. Vỏ máy của GT-700 điện 3 pha được làm từ các chất liệu cao cấp, có khả năng chống va đập nên chất lượng của máy cũng bền hơn so với những loại máy thông thường khác. Đặc biệt, GT-700 điện 3 còn được trang bị  bình chứa nước với dung tích lên tới 60 lít giúp cho bộ máy của chiếc máy này hoạt động liên tục trong thời gian dài một cách ổn định. 

Máy mài sàn bê tông LUXURY LXR 788-4

LUXURY LXR 788-4 là loại máy mài sàn thường được dùng để đánh bóng đá, làm mịn sàn, mài phá các lớp sơn cũ,... vô cùng thông dụng được nhiều người ưa chuộng. Điểm nổi bật của chiếc máy này phải kể đến công suất vận hành siêu lớn sở hữu công suất động cơ mạnh mẽ từ 15kw – 18kw, với chế độ hoạt động bền bỉ, phần thân máy được trang bị bởi các chất liệu cao cấp nên khả năng chống va đập vô cùng tốt. Bên cạnh đó, LUXURY LXR 788-4 không quá khó để vận hành, chỉ với vài thao tác đơn giản bật kết nối nguồn điện và đẩy máy qua các khu vực cần mài là bạn đã có thể vận hành máy giúp làm tăng hiệu quả công việc và tiết kiệm được chi phí thuê nhân lực.

Máy mài sàn bê tông Karva KVG-12

Karva KVG-12 là một trong những loại mài mài sàn bê tông được các đơn vị, doanh nghiệp đầu tư vô cùng ưa chuộng. Khi sở hữu công suất lên đến 10 HP, điện áp 380 - 440V và diện tích làm việc 500x500 mm2 cùng tốc độ vòng quay 900RPM nên việc đánh bay mọi vết bẩn không hề khó với chiếc máy này. Ngoài ra, đơn giản tiện dụng Karva KVG-12 có thể dễ dàng được điều khiển chỉ với vài thao tác. Và với dung tích thùng chứa 40L, đĩa mài 300mmx4 trong đó số lượng đĩa mài 12 của  Karva KVG-12 sẽ có thể hỗ trợ tốt nhất cho người dùng trong quá trình mài sàn. Tuy sở hữu trọng lượng khá lớn là 260kg nhưng nhìn chung Karva KVG-12 vẫn đảm bảo được việc di chuyển nhẹ nhàng và nhanh chóng nhờ vào bánh xe bên dưới. 

Trên đây là các loại máy mài sàn bê tông thông dụng tại TP.HCM. Hy vọng với những thông tin trên bạn đã có thể dễ dàng trong việc chọn mua cho mình một sản phẩm phù hợp để phục vụ công việc của bạn.

[lunaraephotos]

Essay from ARTH 10

Essay Prompt #15: Elgin Marbles

Taylor Polston ARTH 10 Course 03

A source of controversy in the art world involves ancient art that resides in countries that are not of their origin. For example, art like the Elgin Marbles of Greece, that currently reside in the United Kingdom. In recent times there has been much more of a call to return art works back to their culture and country of origin. Repatriation is the term used to refer to reuniting the art with its home country. An example of repatriation would be the Paris Quai Branly museum returning bronze statues to Nigeria that had originally been looted in 1892 (Porterfield). Although many works are being returned, there are also many that are not. The question of “should they be returned,” is an ongoing argument that doesn’t seem to have an exact end in sight.

One major source of controversy is the Elgin Marbles. In the nineteenth century, the Ottoman Empire had control over Greece. A British Ambassador and Earl of Elgin, Thomas Bruce, decided he wanted to remove marble sculptures from the Parthenon. So, with permission from the Ottomans’, Bruce made the order to remove the sculptures and have them sent back to England. Since the Parthenon was being used by the military at the time, Bruce claimed to be protecting the serving art works from ruin by removing them to be preserved (Stokstad). He was immediately criticized, however, those against him became silent once he laid out his arguments. Eventually, the marble

works, now called Elgin Marbles, were purchased by the British Crown for about thirty five thousand pounds (“Elgin Marbles”).

Throughout recent times, the Greek government has made ongoing attempts to have these marbles retuned. However, the United Kingdom has continuously refused to participate in the repatriation of these works, claiming they are preserving them. To this day they can be viewed at the British Museum in London. Although Greece does not have possession of the authentic work, they do have a plaster cast of the marble work on display at the Acropolis Museum in Athens. This museum can be found next to the Elgin Marbles original home. The Parthenon (“Elgin Marbles”).

It is hard to say if Thomas Bruce’s true intent was to preserve the marbles instead of leaving them in a war zone, however, Greece is no longer a war heavy country. The United Kingdom stating they are preserving them doesn’t seem like a good enough argument to not return them to Greece. This is because Greece also has the means to preserve and protect these art works if they were to be returned. It is also assumed they already have a location for them, as they would probably replace their plaster counterparts.

In terms of other works in similar circumstances, it may makes sense to not return items that are important to art and culture history. This is only if the country they originally hail from does not have the ability to properly care for the works and the work would become destroyed if returned. Some may argue that if they get ruined in their home country that is that countries arrogative because they won them. However, any see art, even those from foreign countries, s something owned by all and not just

specific countries. This is because art not only shows the story of a countries future but gives people a glimpse into history that wasn’t explicitly recorded. It can also be argued that art from various countries should be found in museums so that people from various cultures can enjoy and learn about other cultures. However, it would also be a good middle ground for agreements to be made with the country of origin so that the works don’t feel stolen but instead their “home” has been agreed upon or at least have temporary placement.

In regards to the Elgin Marbles, there doesn’t seem to be a valid reason why they should to be returned to Greece. This cannot be said for all artworks, as it may be poor judgement to return art to war torn countries who don’t have the ability to take of them. Repatriation will probably always be a controversial topic because of all the wars and conquering of the past and what there will probably be more of in the future.

Works Cited

“Elgin Marbles.” Encyclopædia Britannica, Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc., 24 Mar. 2023, https://www.britannica.com/topic/Elgin-Marbles.

Porterfield, Carlie. “Europe's Museums, Collectors Are Returning Artifacts to Countries of Origin amid Fresh Scrutiny.” Forbes, Forbes Magazine, 9 Nov. 2022, https:// www.forbes.com/sites/carlieporterfield/2021/10/27/europes-museums-collectors- are-returning-artifacts-to-countries-of-origin-amid-fresh-scrutiny/? sh=11b247d7675b.

Stokstad, Marilyn, and Michael Watt Cothren. Art History, 5th ed., Pearson, Boston, 2014, p. 133.

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Đá Xám Vân Gỗ - Chất Lượng, Siêu Bóng, Chất Lượng

Tại khu vực TPHCM thì Đá Hoa Cương Ngọc Thọ Marble là một trong những doanh nghiệp cung cấp đá xám vân gỗ được rất nhiều khách hàng đánh giá cao và quay lại chọn mua. Cùng chúng tôi tìm hiểu chi tiết sau đây. 

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