http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photo-of-the-day/rowing-mathura-lake/
The man stood patiently on the unadorned quay. His mind wandered, only for a moment, but when he came out of his reverie, the row boat was paddling toward him. A lone, weathered man worked the oars. With a little thunk, the shallow boat bumped up against the dock.
“This isn’t a very big boat,” the man noted.
http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photo-of-the-day/lanterns-chinese-festival/
There were two kinds of light that lit the sky. Not every day, of course. Just on this particular day. And while Zhulong appreciated the daylight draped over the town center so early in the day, it was the second kind of light, the kind that would come tonight, that he vastly preferred.
Security wouldn’t be needed at the event. Even the most dedicated trouble-makers left well enough alone during the Lantern Lift. It wasn’t strictly necessary for Zhulong to don his uniform and short-cane and patrol the grounds. But he volunteered anyway because it was better than sitting around his house, waiting for night to fall.
C.M. Tenom, Anthropology, Uni. of City South – Field Notes
Face Painting Rituals on the Endless Continent (paper release title?)
(Summary thoughts from journals #1-5)
– Face painting is part of the religious/spiritual traditions of at least 27 different communities on Genpaa. The vast majority do not have written language, and oral traditions are the source of their history. Oral traditions are hugely helpful in every area except one – accurate dating. Once a story is told & passed down, it’s a part of the community’s canon. A story could be no more than 40 or 50 years old, but it’s told alongside stories that are many hundreds of years old. In short, there’s no way of telling when these face painting rituals began. Given their spread across the so-called Endless Continent, I’d hazard a guess that it was first used about 350 years ago.
I was out of the country for a few weeks. I had dreams of doing serious work to catch up in the days/weeks upon my return, but that was a pipe dream. That was folly. So I’ve come up with a new plan. Starting today, April 25th, I will resume the daily stories.
And in January of next year, I will post, as the last gasp of the Tall Tale Year, a novella that will be based on the images from March 29th through April 24th.
For now, please forgive my momentary absence. There are many more tales to come in 2015, and we’ll start up again with an anthropologist’s notes on the unlikely rituals on a distant continent…
http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photo-of-the-day/firefighter-recruits-drill/
“This feels like a bad idea.”
“It’s not.”
“It’s unproven technology.”
“Nah, it’s proven.”
“Untested, then.”
“Well, yeah. Isn’t that why you’re here?”
“Not by choice.”
“Still.”
http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photo-of-the-day/deer-sunflower-camouflage/
It was an absolute feast. And he had it all to himself. Well, not at this exact moment. At this exact moment, it was a rotting field. But that was only because the clouds had been out all morning.
They wouldn’t stay. Already he could feel slight changes in the air. It was a little drier, the wind blew at a slightly different angle. In an hour, the first break in the clouds would form. An hour after that, big blobs of blue would push through the fields of white and grey. And then this field would turn to gold.
D.O.D. Internal Memo
CONFIDENTIAL – EYES ONLY
26 March 2016
Project Medusa
From: Maj. Lowry
To: Gen. Burnett
Update #3
Troops are in good spirits. Training regimens are ramping up to Phase 2. Cardio and upper arm work is essential to the task. Strength coaches arrived yesterday.
Rope climbs on repeat. The Creature’s tendrils have been tested ad nauseam. They appear to be climbable, but it’s risky. Without the samples we can only get from a climb, we won’t know if the Creature has physiological defenses related to the tendrils. It’s a troubling catch 22.
http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photo-of-the-day/owl-snow-canada/
Field Notes – Snowy Owl
Observations: 4 March ’15 – 14 March ’15
Sr. Fellow Research Project
M.L. Nyagg, M.O. Candidate ’16
6 March ’15
7:48am – Spotted a female at 45°31’41.0″N 70°00’54.6″W
Same young female as yesterday. My camp must be near her nest.
I observed her for about an hour shortly after dawn. She must not have caught any food last night, or I suspect she would have retired with the sunrise. She hardly moved for the hour, then she took off and flew to a more open area over by the lake.
http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photo-of-the-day/opera-singers-china/
The Perils of Personal Grooming
The show must go on so don’t muck it up
Getting ready in the back with tucks and pumps
Hair sprayed straight, then mussed and what
It means to be pristine you shouldn’t trust
The attention comes when you strut and stuff
Is that really what a girl who’s tough should want?
I’ve seen you primp and curl and plump. For what?
A few strips of human soul and a couple blunts?
This chick can’t relax, quick touch it up
Blur that line between love and lost
Dreaming of someone’s blood and guts
Waiting for the day that’s not such a rush
Yeah, I get you’re a succubus
Does that mean you have to slut it up?
You could heal or hurt with just one touch
Why waste that gift for a couple bucks?
Who sees you through the blush and such?
And who pays best for a rub and touch?
Do the math, subtract the club’s first cut
Bouncer’s pay, the precinct’s love, plus
The regular with a dangerous crush
Come on, girl, you must be nuts
Screams, moans, thrusts and grunts
Cloven hooves on a disgusting hunt
Spread your wings, bust this dump up
Wreck the palace of the iniquitous
You could feed on hope and love and trust
Use your magic for a lesson and junk
I don’t mean to huff and puff
Yes, it’s grim. I’m serious. But
I know the risk of a crush turned up
This dull life was never enough
http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photo-of-the-day/nasca-plateau-geoglyphs-peru/
Heat ripples rose from the ground in ceaseless waves. In every direction the guard looked, the horizon shimmered with punishing, consuming heat. He wiped his sweaty brow with his hat and looked down the long, straight road.
He thought he saw movement, but it was far away. The asphalt danced in the waves of heat, distorting everything in the distance. It was impossible to tell if the truck was approaching or if what the guard saw was just a classic mirage.
The Tall Tale Year 