affinity

Occasionally a friend will tell us about a wonderful piece of music he has heard. And then we listen to it, and it does nothing for us. Or about a beautiful woman. And then we meet her. And she is nice. But not so beautiful. It happens all the time. And that’s what they mean when they say, “beauty is in the eye of the beholder”. When it comes to art, the same is true. If we see something we really like, it means that what we’re looking at or listening to, answers some question within us, or supports a point of view we already have. There is a link between us and the art. But what moves us, what inspires us, what calms our soul, won’t do the same for everybody. Its subjective. It’s a matter of taste.

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There are so many reasons to become involved in art. Some wish to give expression to their thoughts, their ideas, their sense of beauty. Others want to find a way to connect to people. They find the words don’t come to them readily in social conversation. Maybe they are frustrated by conventional manners, or social expectations. In the creation of art, they are able to overcome certain difficulties or inhibitions that limit their ability to communicate.

Some people have been in a low down place, devoid of hope, tortured by the difficulties of life… and found courage, and sanity… sometimes even joy… in the work of an artist. And they wanted to pass it on; to help others as they have been helped. They want to be an artist like that artist that enlightened them. Some are lonely, or have little sense of self-worth, and are desperate for acknowledgement as a human being, or approval, or friendship, or respect.

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Some artists find the pleasure in the act itself. They don’t have to be appreciated by others. It is enough for them to be satisfied with what they themselves have done. It is enough for them to feel good about their work. They can put it in a drawer, and not show it to anyone. Especially, if they’ve already had the experience of running around to gallery owners, or agents, or publishers, and being refused again and again.

By the look on facebook, or on some blog platforms, for some people, it is very important to be liked. The more likes the better. They will spend the better part of the morning, or the evening, handing out likes to others, if only to obtain a lot of likes on their own page. What are all those likes about? How many likes does one need in order to be satisfied. My guess is, that it is a chase after something that can never truly satisfy. And most of all, because not all of those likes are sincere. What we really need in this world, is a few people we can truly relate to. And relating to someone, takes quite a bit of work. A person with a thousand best friends might be suffering from a delusion.

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But there are a select few, who can tell the story of a sunset, or the call of a wild animal, in such a way, that many others… even those who don’t know him or her, will feel a twinge in their own hearts and guts. When I was lonely, I used to find people like that, hidden within the covers of books in the local library. I would feel they were my friends though some of them had been dead for quite some time. I would follow them, trying to read all they had written… or to see all of their images, even though they were not flattered by my attention. And if they were alive, they didn’t even get a piece of cake out of it, because I’d discovered the book in the library and not paid to read it.

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And then there’s art for arts sake. I always looked at that, as I would at a prayer. Something that transcends my own particular position or circumstances… something for which I don’t expect to get a reward… not necessarily meant for my friends’ ears. When I look or listen, or read art like that, I feel an affinity to the message in the art, and not that much to the artist. It doesn’t matter if he’s a drunk, selfish or anti-social. What gives pleasure is the art itself.

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72 responses to “affinity

  1. Dear Shimon you made a great point and how precious your words… I agree with you, time changes… maybe one day there will be a day again to go back… History repeates itself, they say like that…

    I loved your photographs… they are all so artistic… some of them made me to think of this, photographical monet images… And also the first photograph seemed to me as if ı know these moments, so familiar but at first time I see… I don’t know why I felt like that… maybe there is a memory in the back of my mind…

    You are amazing and I love to read you and to watch your photographs.
    Thank you, dear Shimon, have a nice day and weekend, with my love, nia

    • These poppies, what I want to make (real) painting… I loved them so much.
      Thanks again, have a nice day, with my love, nia

    • Thank you so much, Nia… I’m happy to know that you enjoy my work, as I enjoy yours… There are so many ways to appreciate the wonders of creation… and every artist, gives a very special and different flavor to what we all know through our own eyes… that is the most amazing… the wonder of individual appreciation. And truly, all of your paintings are real to me. My best wishes to you, my friend.

  2. I read you for the sake of knowing your thoughts and your views on life. Many of your ideas I can relate to, others can be strange to me at first, I need to think about them and remember the culture and religious differences in our lives before I understand or agree with them. Some took me on a search online and in books to know more about the subject.
    I have been thinking for a while about removing the “Like” widget from my blog since most of them now come easily from peoples who are not even looking at the blog.
    Do poppy grow wild as the picture seems to show?

    • I appreciate your visits, Francis… and your patience with me when I seem strange at times, ‘cause it’s true, we meet across a cultural gap, and probably take for granted, things that are strange and amazing for the other… but it might be, that some of my reactions, to things such as the likes, are not relevant to your world… and if you enjoy them at all… don’t let them go… such things are so relative. And yes, the poppy grows wild in my country, as do many other flowers… and the contrast between their delicacy and the harshness of the rocks, give me endless hope.

  3. Oh, I love the picture with the poppies … so much that I feel a poem growing in my heart … would like to ask permission to use one of your poppy pictures, Shimon. Love, cat.

  4. when i write poems – my form of art – i have had an experience that i want to share because either i want others to know what i experienced and/or because they’ve had the same experience, and it might help them to see that others have had that experience too. that experience is usually an emotion, but not limited to that. for me, it’s the sharing of that experience, like sharing a movie or a song.

    sometimes art is another way of saying, “hey, wanna know what happened to me? what i saw? where i went? what someone did? well, it was like this…”

    and sometimes art is just a way of someone processing something that happened, but just processing it for themselves to understand. and then it goes in a drawer or a binder and waits to be shared. maybe shared. maybe not.

    • What you’re saying, Rich, makes a lot of sense… and I’m looking forward to reading some of your poetry. But I’ve read other examples of your writing, and I would guess that in every one of your works, certain people will find different treasures; expressions, and subjective references that will touch very personal experiences of the reader. We often feel that art bridges between the conscious and the unconscious, and touches us unexpectedly. Thank you very much for your comment.

  5. These pictures are lovely Shimon and your words, as usual, give pause for thought. It never does us any harm to examine and re-examine our motivations.

    • Thank you very much, Chillbrook. And I think I have to say, that though I spoke of motivations, often the art that is produced goes way beyond that… as much as the human being goes far beyond the moment of passion of the flesh, that brought us into this world in the first place…

  6. As someone who thinks about art and motivation and interconnection, I was grateful to see you writing about this topic— while punctuating your points with lovely, thoughtful photographs.

    I’ve met artists who work from each of the philosophies you discuss. I paid/pay close attention to the way they worked/work, and how they interacted/interact with the world. And it is true— there are artists whose work I love, but whose personalities are unfathomable to me.

    What I love, though, is how you bring everything home to libraries. The artist (writer) will never know what impact his/her work made on you. There isn’t a price tag involved, or a way to “like” it in a public fashion where everyone sees what you like.

    I guess, what I personally think about art comes back to a line from a Robert Frost poem, “Two Tramps in Mud Time.” “My object in living is to unite/My avocation and my vocation/ as my two eyes make one in sight.”

    As you say, though, it’s all a matter of affinity. Thank you for helping me stop and think this morning in general, and in specific, about art and motivation.

    • Loved the Robert Frost reference …

    • And thank you, Courtenay, for taking part in the discussion, and sharing this beautiful quote by Robert Frost. As I said to Rich in answer to his comment above, the motivations don’t cast a shadow on the art. Art transcends all circumstance, and stands on its own… with explanation or without… and it has a life of its own. For me, the station where I caught the bus, was the library… but another found his heart running like a mad dog to the tune of a beggars harmonica… I believe there isn’t any one way to learn… or to learn to appreciate art.

      • Dear ShimonZ—

        I missed this wonderful comment because I had not yet discovered the notifications tab on the WP dashboard. So sorry for the delay!

        Good art does many things, but one of the things that it does that I love best, is create the space for genuine conversation. I don’t often talk about this moment with Frost, and my realization that making (or trying to make) art is a vocation and an avocation, but I am so glad that I did— because we are having this moment now.

        I totally agree with you that there isn’t a single fulcrum for learning to make, or appreciate, art. Or a single, exact time frame in which one must meet oneself coming and going. And thinking about that, this morning, is making me smile. Thank you.

        —CB

  7. Thank you so much for this moving essay and the lovely photographs. I have loved art that was created for many reasons. The only art that really leaves me cold is that created only to be clever. But art that looks for beauty and hope and connection? Yes. Your photographs and your words do that for me.

    • Yes!

      Art that seems
      to only wish to be noticed
      sometimes leaves me empty.

    • Thank you so much for your kind words, Karen. I have to admit, though, that my horizons are not quite as broad as your own, and sometimes, despite good intentions, and a message that I could accept, I find certain works of art unappealing, or not to my taste. I don’t believe there is right or wrong in art, as we find in science. So much of it is taste, and what appeals to one, may leave another cold. It is our capacity to identify, that leads to that affinity. But it is often hard to describe the reason for that affinity, as it is hard to describe the properties of love.

  8. We are all unique with our own tastes and interest.. We get to know each other by spending time reading and observing each others blogs.. I again appreciate the ease of how your words flow.. as you share from your heart. Lovely photos!

    • I agree with you completely, Roberta. It is those differences in taste that make the search for beauty and inspiration so personal. And I thank you very much for your kind words regarding my writing. It makes me happy that you enjoy the blog.

  9. Beautiful post and wonderful pictures, Shimon! 😉

  10. as is usually the case, your post has my mind wandering in several directions, all at once, and here I am, wanting to comment or share how your words have touched me, or inspired me, or allowed me to glimpse something not seen before, but my words are stumbling.

    “How many likes does one need in order to be satisfied”
    One of my sisters once asked me to describe the attraction of facebook. This sister never touches FB, while the other sister spends at least six to eight hours every day playing various FB games. I became frustrated, trying to figure out how to verbally demonstrate why the one sister is so addicted to FB, and in fact, why a good portion of her life revolves around the games on FB. Finally, in frustration, I blurted out something to the effect of “it gives people the ILLUSION of having lots of friends, even though in real life, they may have none.” I was actually glad that conversation took place. It helped me understand both sisters better. And myself.

    “How many likes does one need in order to be satisfied”
    This very equation was at the basis of why I’ve closed several blogs in the past. Never enough. Or too many. Seeking the approval of others doesn’t really, in any true sense, elevate our own love of self. Conversely, if we have many followers who consistently laud our praises, we can accidentally begin to believe the hype, and then we may fall into the trap of allowing our voice to become a reflection of feeding the approval monster, rather than having any true voice at all.

    “beauty is in the eye of the beholder”
    The bark of a tree excites my blood, and I get a ridiculous amount of pleasure from running my hands across the surface, allowing my fingers to press into every indentation. I lean in close, and inhale deeply, allowing all those years to enter into my soul, filling me with the magic of their passing. Some people that read this would say I’m barking up the wrong tree.

    “or supports a point of view we already have”
    Even though we may profess with our mouths that we seek to expand our views, it is astonishing how many times we simply seek the shelter of those people or ideas or things that support the views we already carry.

    some artists find the pleasure in the act itself
    Even though I would never truly consider myself an artist (yet), I do admit that some of what I write feels as if it is the most authentic piece of me that I have shared with the world, (so perhaps that is enough for it to be called art). Imagine my incredible surprise when the act of destroying / erasing / eradicating years and years of writing suddenly filled me with the biggest sense of accomplishment that I have ever experienced as an artist. I still can’t quite explain it. I only know that I can’t wait to do it again.

    “even though they were not flattered by my attention”
    I could go on for paragraphs and paragraphs about this one. In fact, this one sentiment might be the one on which I hang my hat, as a mark of recognition for an artist. Someone that inspires adoration, or appreciation, (but not adulation). Someone who affects another, even though they never see the response of the person admiring their work. They create, and then are able to walk away, and release it.

    “I feel an affinity to the message in the art”
    You’ve managed to describe that thing that we can’t seem to quite put words to (and yet you’ve found some words to illustrate this point). When our appreciation transcends the creator, and moves past any attachments we may or may not have to the person or entity behind the creation, and we are simply able to absorb the beauty of their work.

    I could keep going on for as long as you have time to read, because your words always open up so many doorways for me, and have me asking many questions. The funny thing is, I’m always searching for what lives in-between your words, curiously peeking around every syllable and sentence. Sometimes, when I believe I’ve discovered something hidden there, I forget to pay attention to the words at all, and only look at the message. Then, and only then, I feel like I’ve actually heard you.

    My heart softens. A smile forms. I nod my head, in thanks.

    “What gives pleasure is the art itself
    the clouds, the sea, the stones
    the colors that burst in every direction
    the people we’ve been privileged to know
    the lessons we are free to absorb

    thank you, as always, for sharing

    • I agree with you N, that seeking approval seeking approval can’t elevate our own love of self, and that listening to flattery doesn’t help us grow. But I have to tell you that I recently read an article about game playing, and how it can help ward off the threat of senility. It’s true, I’ve warned against the game playing of FB likes, but I’m speaking only from my own subjective experience, and I’m not even a member of facebook… so what do I know? But I don’t think you’re barking up the wrong tree when sensually enjoying nature… at least, I share your pleasures, myself. And I can understand your joy at erasing old work; sometimes editing, and refining our work is the most difficult part of creating. I’ve learned to appreciate your continuous desire to define the essence in things. Both you and I are students first, and that is our path. Thank you so much for taking the time to relate to my post seriously. I consider it an honor.

  11. Shimon, it was a happy day when I stumbled upon you in the huge wide blogosphere. Your words always give me pause to think. Thank you. Naomi

  12. I love the wild flowers and clouds in your photos. Facebook is not really for me.

  13. I was thrilled, at first, to reconnect with so many people from my past when I first discovered facebook. Flattered, I was, to have so many people who could not be bothered to say “hello” to me in the hallways of my high school now request “friendship” with me in cyberspace. Surprise! They were not looking for friendship, they were looking for “friends” – numbers that would prove to…who?…that they were happy people. So now I’ve winnowed my “friendships” down to real ones, and spend most of my time in cyberspace looking at the art that sustains me. You, Shimon, are one of those.

    Reading your words is like hearing my beloved and long-passed grandfather letting me in on the secrets of a happy life. Thank you for filling the void.

    • I have to admit, techlady, that my understanding of facebook is from the outside. I never joined… so it’s possible that I’ve missed some of the pluses. I thank you for reading my blog, for finding merit in my words, and for sharing your thoughts with me. I am an old grandfather, and it’s always a pleasure hearing from you.

  14. Such profound reflections, Shimon, holy in their marriage of depth and simplicity. The photographs are rich, rich, rich…like paintings, truly. I love the poppies rising from rock–and you’re right; these photos have resonance with an essay I’ve been pondering, so your art touches mine and stirs my inspiration. But it also stands alone, as a vulnerable and courageous reflection (or shard?) of your own great spirit.

    • thank you so much, Catherine, for your kind and generous words. It gives me great pleasure to know that you enjoy the post. I too enjoy reading yours, and look forward to reading what you write, and the pictures you post.

  15. It’s so true about what’s in the eye–or ear of the beholder. I just wrote a piece for my monthly column (I write for a rural newspaper) about my mother. Every Saturday morning she turned on the opera and sang along with Joan Sutherland or some other mezzo soprano. I used to love to hear her and to my ears she was better than Maria Callas. I suspect she was probably average at best, but the memory of her singing while we cleaned house on Saturday morning stays with me.

    • Thank you so for that image of your mother, Jordan. I think that one of the commonly accepted myths, that the famous and the celebrities, are the cream of our culture, is not necessarily true. I have met many really great people who were completely unknown. Some had unique qualities that just weren’t recognized by many people; some had no desire for fame or exposure, and some had the talent and the desire, but didn’t really know how to push themselves. What is important, is that we don’t allow ourselves to be blinded by fame success, or bright colors, but to appreciate the wonderful things we encounter in this world, and in this life, without prejudice… and I believe that this is your path as well; that this has inspired you in your travels, and in your meeting with many people. That is one of the reasons I follow your writings.

  16. The poppies are beautiful, a colour I’ve not seen before.
    But what I want to say is thank you for a thought provoking post, it has sent me off on several tracks and exploring some new thoughts and ideas. For that I’d like to thank you, but I won’t click the LIKE button 🙂 (I’ve never been a great fan of these Like buttons – to much like a popularity contest for my liking, but that’s only if you do the counting)

    • I’m happy you enjoyed the post, and glad that we can share thoughts and ideas. Good that you chose not to click the like button. Your comment means so much more to me. Actually, I have tried to turn off that button altogether, but haven’t found how, up to now. In any case, I don’t exhibit the likes (I have found out how to do that)… not because I am against them in principle, but because I feel it doesn’t fit me.

  17. the joy of a poppy is that it does poorly in rich soil. they love dirt. from plain old, dry, cracked, unwatered dirt they make their art. poppies don’t care if they’re liked, painted, photographed, or photo-shopped and guzzied-up. they do their thing and it is we who find in them an answer to our own particular need to not be as lonely as we all, at our core, truly are. all we want, in the end, is to be back with the one who made us and poppies alike. thank you for another post for which I have yet more affinity.

  18. Once again, the combination of words and images stimulate many thoughts. The two sentences were powerful: “What we really need in this world, is a few people we can truly relate to. And relating to someone, takes quite a bit of work. A person with a thousand best friends might be suffering from a delusion.”

    Meanwhile, I must return to this post to read and think about what all the comments have to say (I only read some.) Many thanks for your contributions.

    • I’m very glad that we had the pleasure of meeting in cyberspace, Frank, and that we can share ideas and thoughts. I do think that comments become an important part of our posts. Often, a comment can make the post a lot more worthwhile, and add something that was missing in the original version. Thank you.

  19. That’s a very thought provoking piece of writing, ShimonZ – and I particularly like the 2nd photo down, the colour of those large wildflowers brings it alive.

    So why do I take pictures, and post them on a blog? There’s certainly some element of hoping to be liked – but who would ever hope to be disliked? – and yes my self-esteem is boosted if the images are liked.

    But the main thing may be genetic. Strange to say I know, but both my cousin and I seem to have inherited creative and artistic leanings from one of our grandmothers. At the age of 70 or more, my cousin went to art college and took up life drawing, something he had been meaning to do all his life. And I’ve been taking photographs for 50+ years, but it was only really in 2003 that I felt that I wanted to use my photography more creatively, and now it has become an extremely satisfying method of self-expression and creativity.

    Some time back I decided on the simple aim of creating beautiful pictures, and I think that aim is still with me – indeed in my “About” page I say “My aim is to create beautiful and/or striking pictures”. I think that’s – as they say – “where I’m at”!

    And I also enjoy writing on Twitter too. The 140 character maximum is a challenge, but I find that it compels me to be concise, which is not a bad thing!

    Thanks again for your thought provoking words. Adrian

    • I’m pleased that you liked one of my photos, Adrian. I value your opinion. The question of motivation for creative pursuits is interesting… often fascinating, but it doesn’t tell the whole story. Often in the process of creative work, the artist transcends his regular considerations, and reaches things he couldn’t have dreamed of when he started. I have spent most of my life in the company of artists, poets, and musicians, and I’ve encountered some tragic cases, in which the artist, after having succeeded in his work, and enjoyed rewards and even adulation, was unable to continue in his work. I think the need for approval or rewards is sometimes greater than the devotion to art itself… and so can get in the way. But what I find interesting, more than anything else, is the art itself.

  20. maturestudenthanginginthere

    What a lovely post and such beautiful photographs. Thanks for sharing these.

  21. You are a man of many wise words!

  22. Such a lovely and thought-provoking post, Shimon. Your photographs are so beautiful. The third photograph in particular (the close-up of the poppies) stirs my heart and my imagination.

    You’ve written about a number of questions here that I think about often as I am exploring the blogging world. I’ve mentioned to you before that I will visit your blog, but sometimes I will not comment, if I’m unable to capture succinctly in the time that I have, the thoughts that are sparked by your posts. This is perhaps the value of the “like” button, to let people know you’ve dropped by and did indeed enjoy the post. This is how I use it when I’m unable to spend more time. I like to at least let people know I’ve read what they took the time to post, when I’m unable to take time to comment or offer more extensive feedback. (In fact, as I’m writing this, I’ve been interrupted three times already… It’s difficult to put together any sort of cohesive reply!)

    I fall into several categories in those you’ve listed above. I create art to give expression to my ideas and my sense of beauty (your first category). I also turn to art to give expression to what I find ineffable. The greatest drive behind my art is an indescribable compulsion. I feel I must do it for my well-being; it brings me great happiness.

    What about you? Why do you create art?

    • Thank you for coming by, Lemony. Personally, I don’t believe we have an obligation to comment. I look at it as an opportunity. But not everyone feels the need for it… and not everyone has something to say. Some people have time for one thing… and no time for another. For instance, I find myself pressed for time whenever I’m invited to watch a video clip. As for your question, I suppose I could answer with two categories too. When it comes to photography, mostly, I do it for my own amusement… but when I was a child, I spent a lot of time alone, and found much consolation in the writings of others…and I suppose that now, I’m passing it on, hoping that some other loner will find pleasure in my words. Thank you for your comment.

  23. I always love reading your reasoning on a matter. I am by nature a very deep thinker so I relate to how you consider things from so many different viewpoints.

    One reason some people like to have many likes is that it supposedly tells Google that you are special thus; Mr. Google will send more customers your way! 🙂

    I took a frame apart the other day to restore it from 1863 and it had handmade nails in it. Pretty neat as my great grandfather was a master blacksmith and artisan. Sad point though was that someone had spray painted over the original gilded finish. Can you imagine? What were they thinking? 🙂 I was thinking about you and your friend that you photographed while I took it apart.

    One other thing, I saw a documented 1705 German carved dark oak chest, a large one ( 7’ tall), with 1′ thick relief carving, go for a little over $1000. I was beyond shocked. I asked the auctioneer before if she was trying to get $10,000 and she told me she would get a thousand. She was right.

    • Yes, Bojo… we can learn a lot from the business men and women; this in reference to the German chest that you saw at auction. They have a very good sense of what the public is interested in, and the worth of objects. I have known some really fine artists, who never really enjoyed success because they were poor at business. And your story of that frame you found is another classic. It could be a parable to teach us a bit about common misunderstandings regarding beauty. I often feel the same disappointment when I study a beautiful woman who has undergone cosmetic surgery, or loaded on the makeup. The true beauty is often obscured by the effort to imitate some mythical standard. And then there are ‘likes’. I wonder if they do have any practical advantage. I suppose we will eventually learn the answer. Not that I know what it is… As always, I so appreciate your comments.

  24. I get to thinking about your words and forget about your beautiful pictures! Very lovely photos!!! Love the compositions.

  25. I like that you have disabled like. 😉 I found this interesting since I have been thinking about the same thing. I notice that many people no longer have a “like” button. I have found some interesting blogs by following someone who clicked “like” on my page, however. It is just far too difficult to read, absorb, and comment thoughtfully on very many blogs. This is an excellent and thoughtful post, as always.

    • Yes, I agree with you, there are some positive sides to the ‘like’. Especially, if it’s from a friend, who’s taste you know, and it’s meant as a genteel tip of the hat. But at times, I get whole waves of likes, from people I don’t know, and when I check out the sender, it turns out that we have very few interest in common. Then it looks like a fishing expedition. Thank you for your comment, George

      • I think people read their WordPress Reader where you can click “like” without going to the blog. They just go down the list and click on everybody they follow. I don’t know lots of the people either. That’s okay, but I don’t pay much attention. Sometimes, I visit a person’s blog just to see what they are posting. Some of it is very good. It’s difficult to keep up with many people anyway. I feel bad when I fail to visit people who have been supportive of me.

        We all look forward to your posts. They are thoughtful and logical and always address some interesting philosophical question or social issue or historical event. That’s worth reading, you know. 🙂

  26. I feel compelled to ‘like’ this post! Interesting thoughts and illustrated with lovely photographs.

    • You have me smiling, Graham. I do use the like button occasionally, and I think it’s fine between friends… I guess it’s just that I get some ‘likes’ … quite a few, actually, that make me wonder if they’re sincere.

  27. ShimonZ, you have one brilliant post.Best wishes.Jalal Michael

    • Thank you very much, Jalal. I see that you’ve been checking out my blog, and hope to get to know you, and read your writing too. Appreciate your visits.

  28. Ah. Your views on the art process and appreciation are lovely and insightful, but it was the comment “What we really need in this world, is a few people we can truly relate to.” Yes. It’s kind of what this human trip is all about isn’t it? I believe this week I may have found one of these people. Thanks Shimon.

    • Thank you very much, Chris. We do meet many people on the internet, and it is very often a pleasant and enlightening experience. Though sometimes, when there are two many people with whom we try to maintain social relationships, it can even become something of a burden. But occasionally, we meet someone who really appeals to our own most personal taste, and this is an exciting and gratifying experience. When reading your poetry, I felt this click. It is a rare and special experience. I had an experience like that some years back, when I was relatively new to blogging, and was writing on a different platform. I wrote a poem about it. Your welcome to take a look: https://thehumanpicture.wordpress.com/2011/06/13/to-a-virtual-friend/

      I am looking forward to reading more of your work, and getting to know you better. So far, it’s been a great pleasure.

  29. What a beautifully honest post Shimon. Love the photos as well. Thank you so much for visiting poetrycottage (better not mention the like you placed there !!!!!)

    • Thank you, cottageonstrawberry, for coming by, and leaving this beautiful comment. And it’s good that you mentioned the like. Otherwise I might not have remembered your blog. I know that sometimes it’s irritating when people leave likes only to attract attention to themselves… and because of that, I’m usually careful in that regard. But I was looking at some blogs in the reader, and I saw your cat, and was reminded of mine. That’s why the ‘like’. I appreciate your visit.

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