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Ten little Indian boys went out to dine; One choked his little self and then there were nine.
Nine little Indian boys sat up very late; One overslept himself and then there were eight.
Eight little Indian boys travelling in Devon; One said he'd stay there and then there were seven.
Seven little Indian boys chopping up sticks; One chopped himself in halves and then there were six.
Six little Indian boys playing with a hive; A bumblebee stung one and then there were five.
Five little Indian boys going in for law; One got in Chancery and then there were four.
Four little Indian boys going out to sea; A red herring swallowed one and then there were three.
Three little Indian boys walking in the Zoo; A big bear hugged one and then there were two.
Two little Indian boys sitting in the sun; One got frizzled up and then there was one.
One little Indian boy left all alone; He went and hanged himself and then there were none.
text: Agatha Christie, from And Then There Were None 1939 // illustrations: Katherine Lam, "Senior Thesis: And Then There Were None"
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being an Indian classical dancer is so beautiful. you’re an actor who enacts and narrates stories with your eyes and limbs.
but you’re also an instrument with your bells that reverberate in the tunes you wish to compose.
you’re a lover and a traitor, a god and a demon. you are stories and places and elements and kings and maids alike.
you live so many lifetimes amidst the taal of a tabla and melodies curated centuries ago to be passed down to your bells on the stage at that time.
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20.01.24
Drilling math problems. Plus this really cool article that talks about architectural vocabulary used for describing social connections.
The highlight of the week had to be a Murakami novel. Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage. I do understand people's criticism of Murakami regarding character development but the rhythm and the depth of loss and grief that Murakami covers along with other Japanese writers like Banana Yoshimoto is unparalleled.
Plus, this music piece by Lizst😭
“Whenever she was asked to play something, this piece was the one she most often chose. ‘Le mal du pays.’ The groundless sadness called forth in a person’s heart by a pastoral landscape. Homesickness. Melancholy”
— Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage
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