gri_2003_m_46_b02_f03_062
- Max. dissimilarity: 1.0
- Mean dissimilarity: 0.428
- Image votes: 0.33
Transcribers
- 65584318 - JennyLWren
- 65635356 - Dr_Kong
- 65679488 - Thomy24
- WINNER - 65715611 - JeremyX
- 65832062 - samurai13
- 65868440 - gailkoelker
65584318 - JennyLWren
IIromaniac - a paranoiac presumption.
Sunday I talked with a background of music, such as is heard in the cinema in particularly romantic scenes of renunciation. The Sunday school was in the hall, separated from the exhibition only by a thin partition. 'This is John Piper. It's called abstract', I would say and then the children would scream a hymn even louder 'It's called abstract', I would shout 'Abstract'. Later I heard the teacher instructing the victims to 'Thank God for Mummy.' 'Thank God for school.' 'Thank God for Dinner.' etc. The sacrificial blood poured from under the door ...
Yesterday afternoon the Women's' fellowship turned up for their tea and several old ladies were faced with breakdowns and tears when they discovered their usual routine had to be adjusted because of the exhibition. However, they soon recovered and were singing away lustily between cups of tea, somebody played the piano for them. The weight of 2 pictures on the door of the room forced the door, imperfectly latched, open. The ladies I saw were packed in rows, all wearing identical hats, this shape [image], steel rimmed glasses: they were motionless except for their lips and wobbling chins as they sang. i\t was as if several pages of grotesques by Leonardo had come to life so thoroughly was decay, stupidity, and absolute gracelessness presented to my eye.
This afternoon a woman appeared with a baby in arms. 'Is this the second Tuesday in the month?' she asked. I told her No. 'Oh, I must have made a mistake, I'm a stranger here.' The clinic (held by the nurse who drove me over) is on the 1st and 3rd Tuesdays, I explained this. 'Oh' said the woman and after much thought 'there must be 5 Tuesdays this month.' [This is an objective account - nobody is fictional, nobody, my dear.]
A reported came in and told me he liked Tchaikovsky. he was from the Herts Advertiser. I went through the wearisome routine. it took longer with him than most people because he had independent ideas, and thinks for himself. Needless to say, the result of this brain work is the original conclusion that he likes 'The Dutch.' He looked at Braque. 'I like Tchaikovsky', he said. 'Swan Lake' he added'that's a real work of art'. he took the parallel ?? and identified Vermeer with his Russian composer and Francis Hodgkins with 'this progressive jazz'..
65635356 - Dr_Kong
65679488 - Thomy24
Sunday I talked with a background music, such as is heard on a cinema in particularly narative scenes of renunciation. The sunday school was in the hall, separated from the exhibition only by a thin partition. 'This is John Piper. It's called abstract', I would say and then the children would scream a hymn era louder. 'It's called Abstract', I would Shout. 'Abstract'. Later I heard the leader instructing the nidins to 'Thank god for mummy?' Thank god for School! 'Thank god for dinner'The sacrificed blood poured from under the door...Yesterday afternoon the women's fellowship turned up for the tea and several old ladies were forced with breakdowns and teans when they discovered their usual routine had to be adjusted because of the exhibition. However, they soon recovered & were urging away gemtly between cups of tea, somebody played the piano for them. The meiget of 2 nocturnes on the door of the room forced the door, unperfectly latched, open. The bodies I saw, were packed in rows, all wearing identical hats, the shape, and steel summed glasses: they were motionless except for their lips & woblling chins so they sang. It was as if several pages of protesques by leonardo had come to life so thoroughly was decay, stupidity, and absolute gracelessnes presented to my eye.
This afternoon a woman appeared with a baby in arms. 'Is this the second tuesday in the month?'she asked. I told her no. 'Oh, I must have made a mistake. I'm a stranger here'. The dirie(held the nurse who drove me over) is on the 1st and 3rd Tuesdays. I explained thes. 'of'said the woman and after much thought'there must be 5 Tuesdays this month'. [This is an objective account - nobody is didioral, nobody my dear.]
A reporter came in and told me he liked Tchaikovsky. He was from the Nests Advertises. I went through the meariore routine. It took longer with him than most people because he has independant ideas, and thinks for himself.Needless to say the realt of this brain worth is the original conclusionthat he likes'The Dutch'. He looked at Braque 'I like Tshaikovsky', he said 'Swan lake', he added. read dark of out? He coal the parallel furtles & itentifier V eineer miwith his Russian corpores ard Francis Nodglins with his Mogresine jazz'...
WINNER - 65715611 - JeremyX
IIlomaniac - a paranoiac presumption
Sunday I talked with a background of music, such as is heard in the cinema in particularly romantic scenes of renunciation. The sunday school was in the hall, separated from the exhibition only by a thin partition. 'This is John Piper. It's called Abstract', I would say and then the children would scream a hymn ever louder. 'It's called Abstract', I would shout. 'Abstract'. Later I heard the teacher instructing the victims to 'Thank god for mummy'. 'Thank god for school.' 'Thank god for Dinner' &c. The sacrificial blood poured from under the door...
Yesterday afternoon the Women's Fellowship turned up for their tea party and several old ladies were faced with breakdowns and tears when they discovered their usual routine had to be adjust-
ed because of the exhibition. However, they soon recovered & were singing away lustily between cups of tea, somebody played the piano for them. The weight of 2 pictures on the door of the room forced the door, imperfectly latched, open. The ladies, I saw, were packed in rows, all wearing identical hats, this shape , and steel rimmed glasses: they were motionless except for their lips & wobbling chins as they sang. It was as if several pages of grotesques by Leonardo had come to life so thoroughly was decay, stupidity, and absolute gracelessness presented to my eye.
This afternoon a woman appeared with a baby in arms. 'Is this the second Tuesday in the month?' she asked. I told her NO. 'Oh, I must have made a mistake. I'm a stranger here'. The clinic (held by the Nurse who drove me over) is on the 1st and 3rd Tuesdays. I explained this. 'Oh' said the woman and after much thought 'there must be 5 Tuesdays this month'. [This is an objective account - nobody is fictional, nobody, my dear.]
A reporter came in and told me he liked Tchaikovsky. He was from the Herts Advertiser. I went through the wearisome routine. It took longer with him than most people because he has independent ideas, and thinks for himself. Needless to say the result of this brain work is the original conclusion that he likes 'The Dutch'. He looked at Braque. 'I like Tchaikovsky,' he said. 'Swan Lake,' he added. 'That's a real work of art.' He took the parallel further & identified Vermeer with his Russian composer and Francis Hodgkins with 'this progressive jazz'...
65832062 - samurai13
IIlomaniac - a paranoiac presumption.
Sunday I talked with a background of music, such as is heard in the cinema in particularly romantic scenes of renunciation. The Sunday School was in the hall, separated from the exhibition only by a thin partition. 'This is John Piper. It's called Abstract', I would say and then the children would scream a hymn even louder. 'It's called Abstract', I would shout. 'Abstract'. Later I heard the teacher instructing the victims to 'Thank God for Mummy'. 'Thank God for School'. 'Thank God for Dinner.' etc. The sacrificial blood poured from under the door...
Yesterday afternoon the Women's Fellowship turned up for their tea party and several old ladies were faced with breakdowns and tears when they discovered their usual routine had to be adjusted because of the exhibition. However, they soon recovered & were singing away lustily between cups of tea. Somebody played the piano for them. The weight of 2 pictures on the door of the room forced the door, imperfectly latched, open. The ladies, I saw, were packed in rows, all wearing identical hats, this shape, and steel rimmed glasses: they were motionless except for their lips & wobbling chins as they sang. It was as if several pages of grotesques by Leonardo had come to life so thoroughly was decay, stupidity, and absolute gracelessness presented to my eye.
This afternoon a woman appeared with a baby in arms. 'Is this the second Tuesday of the month?' she asked. I told her no. 'Oh, I must have made a mistake. I'm a stranger here'. The clinic (held the Nurse drove me over) is on the 1st and 3rd Tuesdays. I explained this. 'Oh' said the woman and after much thought 'there must be 5 Tuesdays this month'. [This is an objective account - nobody is fictional, nobody, my dear.]
A reporter came in and told me he liked Tchaikovsky. He was from the Herts Advertiser. I went through the wearisome routine. It took longer with him than most people because he has independent ideas, and thinks for himself. Needless to say the result of this brain work is the original conclusion that he likes 'The Dutch'. He looked at Braque. 'I like Tchaikovsky', he said. 'Swan Lake', he added. 'That's a real work of art'. He took the parallel further & identified Vermeer with his Russian composer and Francis Hodgkins with 'this progressive jazz'...
65868440 - gailkoelker
IIlomaniac-a paranoiac presumption.
Sunday I talked with a background of music, such as is heard in the cinema in particularly romantic scenes of renunciations. The Sunday school was in the hall, separated from the exhibition only by a thin partition. 'This is John Pipes. It's called Abstract', I would say and then the children would scream a hymn ever louder. 'It's called Abstract', I would shout. 'Abstract'. Later I heard the teacher instructing the victims to 'Thank God for Mummy?' 'Thank God for school'. 'Thank God for Dinner', & c. The sacrificial blood poured from under the door---
Yesterday afternoon the Women's Fellowship turned up for their tea party and several old ladies were faced with breakdowns and tears when they discovered their usual routine had to be adjusted because of the exhibition. However, they soon recovered & were singing away lustily between cups of tea. Somebody played the piano for them. The weight of 2 pictures on the door of the room forced the door, imperfectly latched, open. The ladies I saw, were packed in rows, all wearing identical hats, this shape (picture of a hat), and steel rimmed glasses: they were motionless except for their lips & wobbling tins as they sang. It was as if several pages of grotesques by Leonardo had come to life so thoroughly was decay, stupidity, and absolute gracelessness presented to my eye.
This afternoon a woman appeared with a baby in arms. 'Is this the second Tuesday in the month?' she asked. I told her No. 'Oh, I must have made a mistake. I'm a stranger here'. The clinic (held by the nurse who drove me over) is on the 1st and 3rd Tuesdays. I explained this. 'Oh' said the woman and after much thought 'there must be 5 Tuesdays this month'. [This is an objective account-nobody is fictional, nobody, my dear].
A reporter came in and told me he liked Tchaikovsky. He was from the Merts Advertiser. I went through the wearisome routine. It took longer with him than most people because he has independent ideas, and thinks for himself. Needless to say the result of this brain work is the original conclusion that he likes 'The Dutch'. He looked at Braque. 'I like Tchaikovsky', he said. 'Swan Lake', he added. 'That's a real work of art'. He took the parallel & identified Vermeer with his Russian composer and Francis Hodgkins with 'this progressive jazz'...