Sunday, November 8, 2026

Looking Through Glass


Progress! About 1.5 million days ago this would have been unheard of. 


I stood in a photo exhibition in fairly dim light, and this looked like an interesting motif. So I switched on the camera, raised it, looked through the viewfinder and pressed the button. All possible thanks to glass in so many ways. The viewfinder is made of glass, the lens on the camera is made of glass, the reflection I photographed is all due to glass, and the photos hung on the wall are protected by glass. A great big cheer to glass!

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2026)


All true! What about the 1.5 million days? Doesn’t really sound that long ago, does it? But divide that by 365 and you get about 2000 B.C., which adds more of a perspective than a number of days. According to Wikipedia, the earliest man-made glass objects are dated to about that time.

Wednesday, November 4, 2026

Friday, October 30, 2026

Día de un Muerto

 ...

Between Zacatecas and Torreón, the train came to a stop in the middle of nowhere for hours. Rumors of an accident were circulating. Reportedly, a man had been killed when trying to jump onto the train. I walked five cars down to the spot where a crowd had gathered. I couldn’t see what had piqued their curiosity, but a few police officers in the center of the crowd were making emphatic gestures. There were also three dark-skinned figures standing there – two small and slender, one stooped and veiled.

“Kneel, señor, you must kneel!,” the veiled woman said.

“Why is she saying that, André?,” said Nicole, standing next to me.

“I don’t know. I’m just thinking: am I evil, or is she?”

“Why turn this into a question of good and evil? Let’s just assume that you’re perfectly ordinary, and she’s a bit demonic.”

“If you say so, my beauty.”

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2026)

Posted for Friday Writings #251: Halloween and Día de Muertos. This is actually an excerpt from a story originally written in the 1980s and published in German translation in 2005. I remembered it when I read today’s writing prompt because it plays in Mexico and includes several seemingly random encounters with the veiled lady that culminate in the fatal accident described in this ending part of the story.

Thursday, October 22, 2026

I explained to you exactly


why I love you.

A mushroom was growing out of your nose.

Because of the mushroom, you couldn't speak.

But you explained to me nonetheless that I hadn’t understood a thing.

Which I realized!

Where your eyes must have been, behind the ever-growing mushroom, sprigs of parsley were sprouting.

Your mouth dropped like a potato, still mouthing something as it was falling down.

Startled, I stepped back before your mushroom head could touch me or the parsley could tickle me.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2026)

Posted in response to Friday Writings #250: Memories and Dreams, this is actually the translation of a surreal dream I’d originally written down in German. The painting above by Giuseppe Arcimboldo (1526-1593) would seem a good match for this vegetable-centric dream.

Love, one-sided


Here’s that black thing
attacking my nose from
the air, trying to sit down
on my arm, hand, foot,
thigh, my food – particularly
my food

Loves me so much
it can’t and won’t 
leave me alone

And here I am with
nothing but murder
in my mind

But way too slow
for execution

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2026)

Note
Once again nothing but the prosaic truth turned into poetry. This one-sided love story has been going on for four days now. Ever since this specimen flew in through an open door and simply refuses to leave.

Wednesday, October 21, 2026

Tuesday, October 20, 2026

Ghost Rider / Taken on Tuesday


If you take a good look inside the car, you can see that a ghost is riding along.

Photo taken today, on Tuesday, and the beginning of what will hopefully become a series of Tuesday photos.

Monday, October 19, 2026

Scherzo 176


Scherzo 176

One of a large series of paintings, mostly executed in gouache on paper, that are inspired by the idea of the musical scherzo – light-hearted pieces with a lively movement. This one is available as a digital collectible.

Friday, October 16, 2026

Angelic Messages

Today’s task from Friday Writings #249: Message from an Angel

Not getting any instant inspiration, I thought about this for some time and remembered that we used to play angel cards in the family circle – typically on New Year’s Eve. But what happened to that deck of angel cards? They had to be somewhere. 

Being reluctant to go on a hunt that might take hours, I remembered that there usually are digital solutions to everything nowadays and searched the Internet, where a bunch of offers for free angel card readings can be found, most of which turn out not to be so totally free after all. Commerce, commerce!

Eventually I came upon a site that offered a gratis first card reading, and I made use of that to draw 3 cards.

1. Shine your inner light (supposedly from the Archangel Uriel)

2. Relax (from, lo and behold, the Angel of Relaxation)

3. Enter into the void (again from Uriel)

All right, I will follow the advice of all three. 

The relaxation should the easiest. Takes no effort apart from sitting back, letting go of that pencil (or the keys under my fingers), simply taking it easy. In a bit!

Shining my light – I’ll do my best. Right here, for example. But I’ll venture out in some time, which will include spreading the light I have to offer. Spreading light in these ages marked by a lot of dark seems like a good idea. 

But then the other challenge from Uriel ... how do I enter into the void? I’ll try, carefully, one cautious step into emptiness at a time.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2026) 

(Headed by a song by Heather Nova somewhat related to the topic.)

Friday, October 9, 2026

Noise


Being a reluctant and foreign part of an assembly of natives, I try my best to get the gist of what’s on the agenda. However, given the inborn nature of these natives – which is to be extremely talkative and get heated up about things very easily – and a particular medical condition I have (my ears simply cannot filter out individual voices in loud groups), most of it is incomprehensible to me, like white noise.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2026)

Note
This little shred of prose is definitely based on real experience.

Friday, October 2, 2026

Another Day

Today’s Friday, and so far it’s been lousy. I ride my bike from one dumpster location to the next, rummage through the bins in search of something saleable or reusable. Slim pickings today. No scrap metal to sell to Bruno, no electronic gadgets that look like they could be fixed, no clothes I could resell. It’s past noon – time to have something to eat. I’m terribly hungry. No need to pull out my wallet – all it contains is some copper coins, and those won’t buy a thing. 

Not much is happening, people are at home cooking or eating. I’ve been sitting on the wall across from the dumpsters on Via Sapori – away from the ones that stink the most – for half an hour. But wait – here comes someone. It’s the guy that’s given me something occasionally. Let’s try!

Hooray, I’m getting there – he gave me some brass! Now all I need is another generous sponsor like him. If all else fails, I can walk over to aunty Tsura, who’s sitting on her usual lunchtime bench, and ask her for some crumbs. She usually has enough and doesn’t mind sharing.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2026)

Note
This is a fundamentally true story told from the point of view of another person and was written down for Friday Writings #247: Reframing Negative Concepts.


Wednesday, September 30, 2026

Sunday, September 27, 2026

The old movie haiku


Dr. Shiv still thriving
on TV sixty-one years
after its release.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2026)

Notes
This little ditty refers to a movie which could be called Die Hard No. 2 (Die Hard No. 1 would be Gone with the Wind) because it inevitably keeps coming back to the screen – at least that of television sets. Dr. Shivago, which hit the cinemas in 1965 (sixty-one years ago), turned the impersonator of its protagonist, Egyptian actor Omar Sharif, into a big movie star. He is shown here in a still shot from the film taken from a flat screen TV (hence the horrible moiré effect) with a cell phone camera.

Friday, September 25, 2026

Someone's autumn is another one's spring

It feels like a headstand
to think of spring
now that everything here is
turning yellow and orange
and dropping off

Not that easy to comprehend
things are shooting out
of the ground, turning
green and flowery and
unfolding down south

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2026)

Written for Friday Writings #246: Light-hearted words for Spring (the prompt originated in the southern hemisphere).

Wednesday, September 23, 2026

Turquoise Night


Posted for Wordless Wednesday. Digital photograph created with Vignette for Android on a Sony Xperia MiniPro. Also available for collectors on Objkt.

Saturday, September 19, 2026

Family, well ...

 Family’s great, right? And blood is thicker than water, right? Well, well, well ...

My father had a five siblings – Christine, Otto, Ernest, Emmy, Eugene. He, William, was the baby.

In general, the brothers and sisters got along very well, particularly while their parents were alive, but there were some issues that came up as they got older.

Their father had a company, and soon the question arose who would follow in his footsteps. This was in the 1930s, so – of course – the girls were not even considered. It was then that Otto said he didn’t want Bill in the management even though by that time he had a degree in engineering and was well qualified. However, the rest of the siblings, including my aunts, vetoed this, so the management ended up being a board of four. Gene, the businessman, had a brain for numbers and was largely responsible for business decisions. Ernest largely called the product development shots, coming up with mostly good ideas but also some that ended up losing money. Bill was inventive and a problem solver. He had the ability to turn something from the drawing board into a perfectly functioning product. Otto – well, no-one knew exactly what his contribution was. He spent most of his time walking around the halls and barking commands at the workers. Who mostly shook their heads behind his back.

Things went fairly well for all appearances. But underneath the surface there was a bitter rivalry between Ernest and Eugene, which was also fomented by their wives, neither of whom had a single good word to say about the other. Their children learned to disklike each other and be envious and wary of each other at an early age. Even the dogs – one per family – hated each other and would fight, sometimes with serious injuries, whenever they had a chance.

My sister and I – Bill’s offspring – were quite a bit younger than our cousins, generally got along with everyone and were too naive to perceive the numerous tensions.

Once the older generation retired, the company essentially passed on to Ernest’s son-in-law and Eugene’s son, who had to get along to some extent but had completely opposite views and made no secret of their mutual disdain.

The company continues to exist and thrive to this very day, now in the fourth generation, still run by family members who basically hate each other, agree on hardly anything and still somehow keep pulling things together.

But that’s family, right?

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2026)

Written for Friday Writings #245: Family.

Disclaimer
Similarities with people living or dead are entirely coincidental.