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‘‘That’s a good question.’‘

#stranger things

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stranger things month: day 7, favorite female character >> eleven/jane hopper

#stranger things #eleven #jane hopper

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Harry you were such a cool and fun kid, why're you so uptight Now??

#Harry Potter #hinny

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How to Flirt: A Guide, by Dr. Ross Geller.

#friends #F.R.I.E.N.D.S

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stranger things month: day 2, favorite scene of season 1 >> mike & eleven’s official introductions

#stranger things

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mike & eleven » stranger things / stranger things 2

#stranger things

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Hopper: You’re very mature for your age. Will: Thanks, it’s the trauma.

#stranger things

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Two of my favorite things: Gaten Matarazzo and Paramore!
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Gaten Matarazzo performed many cover songs with band, ‘Work in Progress’ at the Stone Pony in Asbury Park, NJ. This is “Misery Business” by Paramore.

#stranger things #paramore

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“Family is something that runs deeper than blood—nothing so trivial as a shared surname or facial feature, but this bone-deep sense that you have an anchor here in the world, no matter how far you may feel you have drifted off course.” — Beau Taplin

#stranger things

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Hey! Language!

#stranger things

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Reblog for the poster

Telepatia non e' solo una cosa strana

Prova a guardare alcune scene d'episodi di “The Stranger Things” (creazione magistralmente diretta dai gemelli Duffer), ti stupirai di qualcosa che non ti stupisce, nel profondo: la telepatia (ed i suoi legami). La telepatia, cioè vedere da lontano, e’ lampante prova di un rapporto unico che aldilà dell'induzione (spesso per mezzo della tecnologia), si puo’ stabilire. Però, non constatata con prove più efficaci, dalla scienza, (anche se gia’ si son fatti e si stanno gia’ attuando esperimenti), viene considerata fenomeno strambo. Cosa che i sentimenti profondi, dalla quale scaturisce, non sono. Perche’ telepatia e’ fenomeno che (ci) riguarda le relazioni che si possono stabilire con le altre persone, costruite su basi solide. Non si tratta, quindi, di facolta’ paranormali. Anzi, e’ proprio il contrario. Ma come avviene, semplicemente, la telepatia? Stabilendo una connessione coinvolta, si stabilisce una potente energia. L'energia e’ un qualcosa di palpabile, perche’ smuove. Letteralmente. Il potere della mente, di un pensiero rivolto, trasformato in energia, conferisce “il contatto”, ovvero “il vedere”, ma sopratutto il sentire l'altro. Per esempio: prova a pensare fortemente a qualcuno che ti sta a cuore (quasi meditando), questo si “affermerà” a te, in qualche modo. Un altro esempio ricorre: quanto il cane, per esempio, prima che il padrone giunga a casa e si ripresenti, lo senta e lo richiami alla porta, abbaiando. Non e’ abitudine: e’ solo una forza sprigionata dal “pensiero calamita”. Un'idea della mente, intensa, che spinge ogni nostra sensibilità, inesorabilemente. Quindi anche il potere della sensibilita’ occorre per mettersi in contatto con l'altro, così come l'ascolto che va piu’ messo in pratica e la compassione scaturita dall'empatia. E’ così che mi emoziono guardando Undici, la ragazzina protagonista di “The stanger things”, che cerca di comunicare “da vicino”, in lontananza, con il suo amico (anche quando non ci riesce). Ma perche’ ricondurre tutto ad una favola fantascientifica? Perche’ ricondurre tutto ad una serie Netfix dallo schermo? Forse, per me, perche’ e’ vero che tutto cio’ riportato ad un'altra persona (anche se immaginaria) ci fa riflettere meglio, senza “metterci in mostra” e quindi facendoci essere piu’ sinceri di fronte ai fatti guardati. Ma siamo noi, comunemente ed attivamente, a dimostrare quanto certe connessioni che stabiliamo siano piu’ importanti, siamo noi a sperimentare doti sensibili (che a spiegarle e’ difficile!). Aldilà della storia cinematografica, la scienza, la mente umana e la sua coscienza, sommate, possono fare di più? Che ruolo hanno le neuroscienze nella nostra vita? Tutto ciò puo’ essere fatto di piu’, secondo molti studiosi specialisti che gia’ attuano esperimenti, anche di semplici e addirittura per il pubblico piu’ piccolo! Ma anche noi, grandi, possiamo fare semplici esercizi di telepatia per avvicinarci di più. Perchè e’ quello lo scopo. Telepatia che non e’ un qualcosa solo di fumoso, per addetti o per quelli con qualche “rotella fuori posto”. Piuttosto, il segreto, io so, non e’ quello di sforzarsi, ma lasciarsi andare all'ascolto, non solo con le orecchie, ma con il cuore. Con buona intenzione. Se lo si vuole. 

Francesca

Sotto la locandina ufficiale di “The Stranger Things 2”: serie Netfix da me molto apprezzata!

#stranger things

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Me: I'm tired.

People: Sleep.

Me: No you don't understand

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maybe we can go to the snowball together

#stranger things

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The Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—    While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. “’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—            Only this and nothing more.”

   Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.    Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow    From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore— For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—            Nameless here for evermore.

   And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;    So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating    “’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door— Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—            This it is and nothing more.”

   Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, “Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;    But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,    And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—            Darkness there and nothing more.

   Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;    But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,    And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?” This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—            Merely this and nothing more.

   Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.    “Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;      Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore— Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—            ’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

   Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;    Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;    But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door— Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—            Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, “Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore— Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;    For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being    Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door— Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,            With such name as “Nevermore.”

   But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.    Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—    Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before— On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”            Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

   Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, “Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store    Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster    Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore— Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore            Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

   But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;    Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking    Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore— What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore            Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

   This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;    This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining    On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er, But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,            She shall press, ah, nevermore!

   Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.    “Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee    Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore; Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!— Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,    Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—    On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore— Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—    Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,    It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore— Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   “Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting— “Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!    Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!    Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;    And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,    And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor            Shall be lifted—nevermore!

— Edgar Allan Poe

#poetry #edgar allan poe #the raven

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#friends #f.r.i.e.n.d.s

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#friends #f.r.i.e.n.d.s

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That 70′s Show

#that 70's show