Archives for posts with tag: sun

by T.E. Hulme 

A touch of cold in the Autumn night—
I walked abroad,
And saw the ruddy moon lean over a hedge
Like a red-faced farmer.
I did not stop to speak, but nodded,
And round about were the wistful stars
With white faces like town children. 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Thomas Ernest Hulme (1883 1917) was an English critic and poet who, through his writings on art, literature and politics, had a notable influence upon modernism. (Read more at

PHOTO: “Red Moon Rising” by Flavio (July 7, 2009), ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Photographer’s note:  The orange-red colors that the moon sometimes take on are caused by particles in the Earth’s atmosphere. So, this is an interesting and nice-looking result of pollution. When the sunlight reflected by the moon passes through the Earth’s atmosphere, it is scattered by atmospheric particles. Blue light is scattered more than red light, which passes straight through. Incidentally, this is why the sky is blue.
When the moon is close to the horizon, the light must travel through a maximum amount of atmosphere to get to your eyes — blue light gets scattered, while red light goes straight, making the object look redder. In other words, the moon sometimes (and the sun every day) tends to look orange or red when it is rising or setting.


The Life of Pi, Chapter 78 (Excerpt)

by Yann Martel

To be a castaway is to be a point perpetually at the centre of a circle…the geometry never changes. Your gaze is always a radius. The circumference is ever great. In fact, the circles multiply.

To be a castaway is to be caught in a harrowing ballet of circles. You are at the centre of one circle, while above you two opposing circles spin about.

The sun distresses you like a crowd, a noisy, invasive crowd that makes you cup your ears, that makes you close your eyes, that makes you want to hide.

The moon distresses you by silently reminding you of your solitude; you open your eyes wide to escape your loneliness.

When you look up, you sometimes wonder if at the centre of a solar storm, if in the middle of the Sea of Tranquility, there isn’t another one like you also looking up, also trapped by geometry, also struggling with fear, rage, madness, hopelessness, apathy.

Photo: Andrzej Szymański