Lens-Artists PC: Different & Day Nine: Irreversible Things

Today twelve years will go by as in a dream. And they won’t come back.

I thought for a while what it would be, different from me. Nothing came to mind. I didn’t wish to come up with something that would be spectacular but not me, for a change. 😉 Then I thought to provide evidence of the passage of time and acquisition of… experience. Yes. And so the irreversible theme of today was born.

First, the photos. I believe it’s called belly(button)gazing. I have never done it this precisely in this public photo way so it’s certainly different.

Every summer I organise a garden card tournament with my parents in their garden in Ljubljana, my former city. This year will be the 17th already. The game is tarok (Tarock in Austria), a local game played in threes (or fours), a bit similar to bridge. The three flags in the featured photo are, from left: of Slovenia, of the city of Ljubljana, and of Italy which had to be added after I moved there.

Here is a look at the last twelve summers as represented by two photos of me for each year. You can observe all kinds of things: when I stopped smoking (in 2007, three months after the first photo), when I dyed or cut my hair, which outfits were more flattering than others, when I moved to Italy (in 2013 when I look the youngest), when I was the winner (three times: in 2007, 2011 when I won that green mirror, and 2017 when I danced in the rain), when I was working out more (in 2010 when I hit 40) and when I stopped (all the years since).

I don’t grin all the time though. It’s like choosing bestia photos yesterday: I cheat. 😀 I wish to thank everybody else for these photos: father, mostly, but also various friends. We always have a good time, even though with age one participant has started to bitch. I guess he doesn’t win often enough.

After this the poem wrote itself. I loved this challenge.

Challenge 9: “Today, I’d like to challenge you to write your own Sei Shonagon-style list of ‘things.’ What things? Well, that’s for you to decide!”

Things that are irreversible  

That terrible film of the same name
that makes you queasy
by way of wild camera rides,
the story told backwards,
and that terrible terrible thing 
in the underground passage.
Here we have one just like it.

The ageing process.

The fattening process,
after you stop smoking
or move to Italy.
Especially after both,
with a strict sitting down regime
that helps you connect
instead of exercise.

That ugly
black spot on his arm
from Requiem for a dream.

Our life is that spot.
Human destruction.
Not only not reversible,
it cannot be halted.

The plastic is not leaving the ocean.
The icebergs are not growing back.

Is Homo Sapiens
on the endangered species list yet?

Because look at him:
there he is,
about to turn into
that underground passage.


It doesn’t end there.
More irreversible things:

The ripening process.
The smartening process.
The emboldening.
The consolidation of
the me-ne-frega stance.

Self-esteem blossomed.
Knowledge of all sorts gained.
Lands visited.
Poems read.
Books read.
People encountered.
Maybe even made.
Plants sown, planted.

Poems written.
Books written.

And that paste out of the tube,
that too.

For Lens-Artists Photo Challenge, hosted by Tina of travelsandtrifles.wordpress.com: Something Different

and for Day 9 of NaPoWriMo



    1. Thank you very much, Angela! 🙂 I thought to finish the poem after the first part but realised that I couldn’t stop on such a sour note and had to add the upbeat things because there are these too.


  1. Time is relentless isn’t it? And as your poem demonstrates, there are both good and bad sides. Out of time traditions are born … like your card tournament. Your family looks like they know how to have a good time 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Your survey reveals such a happy life. I hope that “black spot on his arm” is not as sinister as it sounds. I must ask, though, what does Cockta taste like? Is it your version of Coca Cola???

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Judy, I’m glad that it comes across. Yes, I’m afraid it’s exactly that bad. DO NOT watch that film. Cockta is indeed like Coke, maybe a bit sweeter and the taste of dog rose (briar?) is more prominent. Produced since 1953 when we were still in Yugoslavia.


    1. Thanks, Bojana. Very fun! Every year I’m sorry that I have to play cards and be a human computer for the tournament instead of chatting with people whom I haven’t seen for a year, at least some of them. 😀

      Liked by 1 person

  3. How did I miss this??? Love your photos. You have a lovely smile that radiates like sunlight.

    Your poem captures the sad state of affairs in our world.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I love this poem. Especially this bit:

    ” The ripening process.
    The smartening process.
    The emboldening.
    The consolidation of
    the me-ne-frega stance.”

    And your photos are so joyful. You have some great outfits. Love that blue dress from Greece. And again your mom is just hilarious!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Sunra Nina! I forgot about this one too. Sometimes I scare myself. Also with the photos. 😀 Damn! Time flies. That blue dress is still holding together though. Thank you for coming back to read, this always touches me. ❤

      Liked by 1 person

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