The Eyes of the Skin: Architecture and the Senses A Book by Juhani Pallasmaa Thin iceExtensions of the tactile senseThe computer creates a distanceThe quality of an architectural realityA hierarchical system of sense+14 More 125 Best Architecture BooksTo see, to caressHis ear in his toesA set of potential photographsThe deeper unconscious intentionsThe body imageThermal Delight in ArchitectureThey can smell the wood
Understanding Architecture A Book by Robert McCarter & Juhani Pallasmaa www.phaidon.com We have turned our faces towards the futureFragments of timeA timeless spaceTheatre Epidaurus, Greece, 330 BCThe secret life of sculpture+17 More Fragments of time architecturehistorycities
A Slow Boat to China A Short Story from The Elephant Vanishes by Haruki Murakami Can you even call it memory?Never any place I was meant to be
Can you even call it memory? My recall is a damn sight short of total. It’s so unreliable that I sometimes think I’m trying to prove something by it. But what would I be proving? Especially since inexactness is not exactly the sort of thing you can prove with any accuracy. Anyway—or rather, that being the case—my memory can be impressively iffy. I get things the wrong way around, fabrication filters into fact, sometimes my own eyewitness account interchanges with somebody else’s. At which point, can you even call it memory any more? memory
Never any place I was meant to be Supposing I found myself chasing another fly ball and ran head-on into a basketball backboard, supposing I woke up once again lying under an arbor with a baseball glove under my head, what words of wisdom could this man of thirty-odd years bring himself to utter? Maybe something like: This is no place for me. This was never any place I was meant to be. melancholywisdomage