I can’t speak for elsewhere,
but here on Earth we’ve got a fair supply of everything.
Here we manufacture chairs and sorrows,
scissors, tenderness, transistors, violins,
teacups, dams, and quips.
There may be more of everything elsewhere,
but for reasons left unspecified they lack paintings,
picture tubes, pierogies, handkerchiefs for tears.
Here we have countless places with vicinities.
You may take a liking to some,
give them pet names,
protect them from harm.
There may be comparable places elsewhere,
but no one thinks they’re beautiful.
Like nowhere else, or almost nowhere,
you’re given your own torso here,
equipped with the accessories required
for adding your own children to the rest.
Not to mention arms, legs, and astounded head.
Ignorance works overtime here,
something is always being counted, compared, measured,
from which roots and conclusions are then drawn.
I know, I know what you’re thinking.
Nothing here can last,
since from and to time immemorial the elements hold sway.
But see, even the elements grow weary
and sometimes take extended breaks
before starting up again.
And I know what you’re thinking next.
Wars, wars, wars.
But there are pauses in between them too.
Attention! — people are evil.
At ease — people are good.
At attention wastelands are created.
At ease houses are constructed in the sweat of brows,
and quickly inhabited.
Life on Earth is quite a bargain.
Dreams, for one, don’t charge admission.
Illusions are costly only when lost.
The body has its own installment plan.
And as an extra, added feature,
you spin on the planets’ carousel for free,
and with it you hitch a ride on the intergalactic blizzard,
with times so dizzying,
that nothing here on Earth can even tremble.
Just take a closer look:
the table stands exactly where it stood,
the piece of paper still lies where it was spread,
through the open window comes a breath of air,
the walls reveal no terrifying cracks
through which nowhere might extinguish you.
All About the Stars by Anne Terry White, illustrations by Marvin Bileck
“When you were born, you cried and the world rejoiced. Live your life so that when you die, the world cries and you rejoice.”
“Touch me. Soft eyes. Soft soft soft hand. I am lonely here. Sad too. Touch, touch me.”
—James Joyce, from Ulysses
Perky Bros | http://perkybros.com
"No. Six Depot is a family owned, small-batch coffee roaster and café nested in the beautiful Berkshires. Located in a historic train station on 6 Depot St, they serve teas, salts and coffee from small farms and roast on location. Their identity juxtaposes a mix of unique rural and modern elements - drawing inspiration from their own backyard railroad and unique approach to keeping it simple and making it true."
Established in 1883 and 2009, Perky Bros now exists to help brands gain clarity, value and distinction through design. We create visual identities, websites, packaging, print materials and any odd or end necessary to create an authentic experience. Working with startups to more established brands, we like to keep our approach flexible. Regardless of what we’re tackling, we strive to offer solutions built on plain-spoken, ambitious ideas - always grounded in research and meticulously crafted in their execution.