Hanging An Owl House In A Tree

Diane Arbus, THE BEAUTY OF THE FAULT

A man in a worn gray suit and an old leather suitcase stops on the sidewalk in front of some children playing. The man places the suitcase on the floor, wipes the sweat from his pearl abundant forehead and asks the children who were playing just now and now I look curious:

- Do you know what a fractal?

Children say and no man in the gray suit worn told that a fractal is an object semigeométrico, irregular, a complex object in which one party has the same structure (structure that is repeated at different scales) the total. He explains that the clouds, snowflakes or circulatory systems are natural fractals. We say that a fractal is a beautiful thing. Infinite and beautiful.

The children have little understanding nor much interested in what is a fractal, so I wonder what brings in that old leather suitcase.

He tells them that fractals.

The children, now suddenly interested, is asked to teach them.

So the man opens his suitcase. It is full of old photographs. Dozens and dozens of photographs of children with Down syndrome, the Jewish giant in small rooms, babies crying, men who dress as women, Mexican midgets, people crippled, misshapen ... strange to the eyes of a child. Especially in the eyes of a child. But as the children see those old photographs are being aware that those images there is a mesmerizing beauty that captivates with its beautiful and obscene plastic. Before his eyes reveals a powerful new attraction: the power and magnitude of the irregular, truly captivating order and harmony in what at first seemed ugly, grotesque and chaotic.

images that look like out of a dark fairy tale, drawn by the wind solo ogre basement well, unhealthy leaves and rough magic tree falls in the autumn.

"Fractals" think children who do not know who to stare into the abyss just unknown, anomalous heating and the quantum, the recursive algorithm of infinite detail.

The man in the gray suit worn close the bag and moves on. Children return to play on the sidewalk and only one of them asks aloud that the issue of whose photographs.

- ... of such a Diane Arbus ... - Says the man without being just over.

What that child does not know is that woman's name and mysterious and strange world that will accompany the rest of his life.

Arbus. Diane Arbus. Fractals. Snowflakes fell in the middle of the night. Men's giant twin girls and disturbing. Unusual stars exploding in a corner of the universe. Beautiful disturbances of atoms in the curved spacetime of standard models.

Greetings Jim.