Sentences with phrase «alive in a space like»

Bentley Projects allowed for large and super large works of art such as Jennifer Bartlett's house constructions, Jim Dine's massive Venus de Milos, and Sir Anthony Caro's steel sculptures to come alive in a space like no other in the Southwest.

Not exact matches

Xhaka, who I like, or at least I like the Xhaka who plays for the Swiss national squad, has shown to be in way over his head in the premiership... of course he showed late in the year that he can stretch the field with the long ball but our squad isn't really set - up for that style of play... most of his long passes are in the air not on the ground and our squad without Giroud, which should have been sold the minute the transfer window officially opened, is one of the smallest in England... we need someone who can pick out the runs of our forwards in the lanes and who is fast enough to come forward into space without conceding his defensive responsibilities... we rarely see him shoot or even be in a position on the field to do so, we rarely, if ever, see him used for set pieces and it appears that the only person at the club who has ever coached him up when it comes to tackling is Coq, which explains his atrocious disciplinary record... maybe it's me but didn't you see him coming in and contributing more from an offensive perspective, with his killer left foot, than a deep - lying midfielder... if that wasn't the case we are the stupidest team alive for taking him over Kante

Digression is a common literary technique favored by authors like David Foster Wallace and Thomas Pynchon, but outside of the last two entries in the Saints Row franchise (a series Chung name - dropped as keeping a surrealist streak alive in games), it's not something we see much of in either the AAA or indie - gaming space.

The game is highly addictive for my spouse, my daughter and I. Hopefully more games like Dungeon Defenders come in the future or something such as Dead Space, Mass Effect, Dead or Alive, Crysis games come free in the future.

, you are lying on the floor of your place looking up, a small draft runs through the room, between the door and the window, and all things seem perfectly still, wind only disturbs concrete in imperceptible ways, or it may take millions of years to be noticed and, as the air runs through the space, all your plants move and all is animated and all is alive somehow, and here are the thoughts of all men in all ages and lands, they are not original with me, and that wind upon your plants is the common air that bathes the globe, and we have no ambitions of universalism, and I'm glad we don't, but the particles of air bring traces of pollen and are charged with electricity, desert sand, maybe sea water, and these particles were somewhere else before they were dragged here, and their route will not end by the door of this house, and if we tell each other stories, one can imagine that they might have been bathed by this same air, regrouped and recombined, recharged as a vehicle for sound, swirling as it moves, bringing the sound of a drum, like that Kabuki story where a fox recognizes the voice of its parents as a girl plays a drum made out of their skin, or any other event, and yet I always felt your work never tells stories, I tend to think that narrative implies a past tense, even if that past was just five seconds ago, one second ago was already the past, and human memory is irrelevant in geological time, plants and fish know not what tomorrow will bring, neither rocks nor metal do, but we all live here now, and we all need visions and we all need dreams, and as long as your metal sculptures vibrate they are always in the Present, and their past is a material truth alien to narrative, but well, maybe narrative does not imply a past tense at all and they are writing their own story while they gently move and breathe, and maybe nothing was really still before the wind came in, passing through the window as if through an irrational portal to make those plants dance, but everything was already moving and breathing in near complete silence, and if you're focused enough you can feel the pulse of a concrete wall and you can feel the tectonic movements of the earth, and you can hear the magma flowing under our feet and our bones crackling like a wild fire, and you can see the light of fireflies reflected in polished metal, and there is nothing magical about that, it is just the way things are, and sometimes we have to raise our voice because the music is too loud and let your clothes move to a powerful bass, sound waves and bright lights, powerful like the sun, blinding us if we stare for too long, but isn't it the biggest sign of love, like singing to a corn field, and all acts of kindness that are not pitiful nor utilitarian, that are truly horizontal as everything around us is impregnated with the deadliest violence, vertical and systemic, poisonous, and sometimes you just want to feel the sun burning your skin and look for life in all things declared dead, a kind of vitality that operates like corrosion, strong as the wind near the sea, transforming all things,

ANOTHER TIME -LSB-...] is necessarily isolated, and is an attempt to bear witness to what it is like to be alive and alone in space and time.»

In expanding arid zones, these emerging characters risen from the river, like secret messengers, or carriers of long forgotten mysteries are sharing a dense space with camouflaged creatures, soldiers, dead or alive, beaten, fucked up and left to dangle in the wind in an intense scenario reminding of post apocalyptic wastelandIn expanding arid zones, these emerging characters risen from the river, like secret messengers, or carriers of long forgotten mysteries are sharing a dense space with camouflaged creatures, soldiers, dead or alive, beaten, fucked up and left to dangle in the wind in an intense scenario reminding of post apocalyptic wastelandin the wind in an intense scenario reminding of post apocalyptic wastelandin an intense scenario reminding of post apocalyptic wastelands.

Antony Gormley describes these isolated forms, cast from his own body as «an attempt to bear witness to what it is like to be alive and alone in space and time».

Another Time... is necessarily isolated, and is an attempt to bear witness to what it is like to be alive and alone in space and time,» says Antony.

Man alive, I want a pantry like that when we finally own our own home; right now all the flours and legumes and things are crowded into cabinets or stashed in baggies (when we run out of room) together, and it's frustrating not to have more space!