Una pluma de mar es una colonia de animales marinos invertebrados (del orden Pennatulacea) emparentados con los corales blandos y las medusas, que reciben este nombre por su gran parecido a una pluma de escribir antigua
🎨 El artista italiano Andrea Brivio comparte el proceso de creación de su mural en Medjugorje, que representa a la Virgen María y a san Juan a los pies de la cruz
One time per year, at Horsetail Falls in Yosemite, the sun aligns with the waterfall perfectly to make the water appear like it is on fire 🔥.
And people say God didn't create the Universe. Beautiful 🙏
This iconic performance of "Money for Nothing" took place during the Music for Montserrat benefit concert on September 15, 1997, at the Royal Albert Hall in London.
Mark Knopfler, Eric Clapton, Sting, Phil Collins.
A Song That Feels Different When You Listen Closely
“Eye in the Sky” has always sounded strangely calm to me.
Two guitarists sitting close together, acoustic instruments in their laps, a keyboard glowing quietly behind them — I expected the usual pleasure of a well-made 1980s song. Soft keys. An unhurried voice. That polished, almost expensive atmosphere The Alan Parsons Project were so good at creating. And all of that is still there. Eric Woolfson’s original vocal, and the later live readings of it, never rush. The song does not raise its voice. It simply continues.
What changed for me was how that calm started to feel.
The more closely I listened, the more the song seemed to be about someone who already knows too much. Not a villain. Not a camera in the clouds, exactly. Just a presence that has finished looking. “I can read your mind” is not shouted. It is offered as a fact. That is what makes it linger. You can hide from a stranger. It is harder to hide from the feeling that another person has already completed the picture of you.
That is the quiet contradiction at the center of the track. The music never turns dark in order to prove its point. It stays beautiful. It stays composed. And because it stays composed, the idea becomes clearer. If the arrangement had been ominous, we would recognize the warning and step back. Instead the song invites you to stay. Then it lets the thought arrive on its own.
I keep thinking about how familiar that feeling is in ordinary life. There are relationships in which the frightening part is not being seen. It is being seen too clearly. The parts you hoped were still private are already known. The song does not dramatize that. It just sits with it.
When “Eye in the Sky” came out in 1982, the image still felt a little distant, a little cinematic. Hearing it now, in this small, seated performance, it does not feel quite so distant. Not because the world has become a science-fiction story, but because so many of us have grown used to the sensation that we are being interpreted while we are still deciding who we are.
Maybe that is why the song still holds my attention. It sounds beautiful enough to make you stay. Then, without raising its voice, it makes you wonder how much of yourself other people can actually see.