Is every picture really worth a 1000 words?

Really?

And what about the converse? Are a thousand pictures worth a word?

Every picture is a story of it’s own, but is it always the case? One may say even that shabby crap of a picture taken from a cheap cell phone or a good camera has something to say, even if it means you shouldn’t try to hard or not meant to take it. (sorry)

On the contrary, how many pictures can really replace the power of a word? Thinking about this is make me go nuts now.

What do you think?

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Life Book

From a famous writer or celebrity, to a WordPress.com blogger or someone close to you — who would you like to be your biographer?

ImageIf I get to choose, it would be Walter Isaacson, who is known for his biographies of Benjamin Franklin, Albert Einstein and Steve Jobs. But first I’d have to do something worthwhile, so far nothing worth (or appropriate) writing.

 

Quite Literally

Language evolves. The meaning of a word can shift over time as we use it differently — think of “cool,” “heavy,” or even “literally.”

Today, give a word an evolutionary push: give a common word a new meaning, explain it to us, and use it in the title of your post.

Ah this is ‘my type’ of prompt. There are so many such words which have gained additional meanings over time, and sadly all what most people know are the irrelevant or absolute hogwash ones. And many easily associate ones which don’t make sense at all. Others are as said above are just thrown about loosely.

I’d like to share one such story of butchery of a word, here as you might have guess. This brilliant comic courtesy of the ever amazing The Oatmeal.

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Words and Space

So this was a challenge to play with space,
      Here I’m writing this poem trying to meddle with some words,
               In a pathetic attempt, to make some text sound nice.
                        But what I don’t get, why does it matter if it doesn’t rhyme?

                              My grandfather was a poet, and so was I
                        Atleast that’s what I thought, many years ago
                But as time went by, I just realized
        Nothing more than a few lame words
Calling it poetry as an alibi.

    I don’t know why I’m even writing this
          I’ve got lot of work to do and lack of imagination
              Yet I’m just sitting here passing time
                   Maybe I feel the need to write something not making sense
                       But ain’t I do that always?

                             So here I’m just messing around with the editor
                          Mashing some buttons begging me not to
                    I feel the need to write one more line
               Or maybe it’s just I just want this to look
          A DNA of drunken words
     Need to work harder for time doesn’t wait
But heck I’ll do what I want anyways.