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はてなキーワード: motionとは
Betsy and Solomon lived happily through that winter and spring, and before summer came we had made up our minds to return to the East. What should we do with the owls? They would be a great deal of trouble to some one. They required an immense amount of petting, and a frequent supply of perfectly fresh meat. No matter how busy we were, one of us had to go to the butcher every other day.
We began to inquire among our friends who would like a nice, affectionate pair of owls? There seemed no great eagerness on the part of any one to(23) take the pets we so much valued. Plans for their future worried me so much that at last I said to my sister, “We will take them East with us.”
The owls, who were to take so long a journey, became objects of interest to our friends, and at a farewell tea given to us, a smartly dressed young man vowed that he must take leave of Solomon and Betsy. Calling for a broom, he slowly passed it to and fro over the carpet before them, while they sat looking at him with lifted ear tufts that betrayed great interest in his movements.
We trembled a little in view of our past moving experiences, but we were devoted to the little creatures and, when the time came, we cheerfully boarded the overland train at Oakland.
We had with us Betsy and Solomon in their large cage, and in a little cage a pair of strawberry finches, so called because their breasts are dotted like a strawberry. A friend had requested us to bring them East for her. We had also a dog—not Teddy, that had only been lent to us; but our own Irish setter Nita, one of the most lovable and interesting animals that I have ever owned.
The chipmunk was no longer with us. He had not seemed happy in the aviary—indeed, he lay down in it and threw me a cunning look, as if to say, “I will die if you don’t let me out of this.” So I gave him the freedom of the house. That pleased him, and for a few days he was very diligent in assisting us with our housekeeping by picking(24) all the crumbs off the floors and eating them. Then he disappeared, and I hope was happy ever after among the superb oak trees of the university grounds close to us.
When we started for the East, the pets, of course, had to go into the baggage car, and I must say here for the benefit of those persons who wish to travel with animals and birds, that there is good accommodation for them on overland trains. Sometimes we bought tickets for them, sometimes they had to go in an express car, sometimes we tipped the baggagemasters, but the sums spent were not exorbitant, and we found everywhere provision made for pets. You cannot take them in your rooms in hotels, but there is a place for them somewhere, and they will be brought to you whenever you wish to see them, or to give them exercise. We were on several different railway lines, and visited eight different cities, and the dog and birds, upon arriving in eastern Canada, seemed none the worse for their trip.
However, I would not by any means encourage the transportation of animals. Indeed, my feelings on the subject, since I understand the horrors animals and birds endure while being whirled from one place to another, are rather too strong for utterance. I would only say that in a case like mine, where separation between an owner and pets would mean unhappiness, it is better for both to endure a few days or weeks of travel. Then the case of animals(25) and birds traveling with some one who sees and encourages them every day is different from the case of unfortunate creatures sent off alone.
Our Nita was taken out of the car at every station where it was possible to exercise her, and one of us would run into restaurants along the route to obtain fresh meat for the owls. Their cage was closely covered, but whenever they heard us coming they hooted, and as no one seemed to guess what they were, they created a great deal of interest. My sister and I were amused one evening in Salt Lake City to see a man bending over the cage with an air of perplexity.
“They must be pollies,” he said at last, and yet his face showed that he did not think those were parrot noises issuing from within.
I remember one evening on arriving in Albany, New York, causing slight consternation in the hotel by a demand for raw meat. We hastened to explain that we did not want it for ourselves, and finally obtained what we wished.
As soon as we arrived home in Halifax, Nova Scotia, the owls were put downstairs in a nice, dry basement. They soon found their way upstairs, where the whole family was prepared to welcome them on account of their pretty ways and their love for caresses.
Strange to say, they took a liking to my father, who did not notice them particularly, and a mischievous dislike to my mother, who was disposed to(26) pet them. They used to fly on her head whenever they saw her. Their little claws were sharp and unpleasant to her scalp. We could not imagine why they selected her head unless it was that her gray hair attracted them. However, we had a French Acadian maid called Lizzie, whose hair was jet black, and they disliked her even more than they did my mother.
Lizzie, to get to her storeroom, had to cross the furnace-room where the owls usually were, and she soon began to complain bitterly of them.
“Dey watch me,” she said indignantly, “dey fly on my head, dey scratch me, an’ pull out my hairpins, an’ make my head sore.”
“Why don’t you push them off, Lizzie?” I asked, “they are only tiny things.”
“Dey won’t go—dey hold on an’ beat me,” she replied, and soon the poor girl had to arm herself with a switch when she went near them.
Lizzie was a descendant of the veritable Acadians mentioned in Longfellow’s “Evangeline,” of whom there are several thousand in Nova Scotia. My mother was attached to her, and at last she said, “I will not have Lizzie worried. Bring the owls up in my bathroom.”
There they seemed perfectly happy, sitting watching the sparrows from the window and teasing my long-suffering mother, who was obliged to give up using gas in this bathroom, for very often the owls put it out by flying at it.
(27)
One never heard them coming. I did not before this realize how noiseless the flight of an owl is. One did not dream they were near till there was a breath of air fanning one’s cheek. After we gave up the gas, for fear they would burn themselves, we decided to use a candle. It was absolutely necessary to have an unshaded light, for they would perch on any globe shading a flame, and would burn their feet.
The candle was more fun for them than the gas, for it had a smaller flame, and was more easily extinguished, and usually on entering the room, away would go the light, and we would hear in the corner a laughing voice, saying “Too, who, who, who, who!”
The best joke of all for the owls was to put out the candle when one was taking a bath, and I must say I heard considerable grumbling from the family on the subject. It seemed impossible to shade the light from them, and to find one’s self in the dark in the midst of a good splash, to have to emerge from the tub, dripping and cross, and search for matches, was certainly not calculated to add to one’s affection for Solomon and Betsy. However, they were members of the family, and as George Eliot says, “The members of your family are like the nose on your face—you have got to put up with it, seeing you can’t get rid of it.”
Alas! the time soon came when we had to lament the death of one of our troublesome but beloved pets.
Betsy one day partook heartily of a raw fish head,(28) and in spite of remedies applied, sickened rapidly and sank into a dying condition.
I was surprised to find what a hold the little thing had taken on my affection. When her soft, gray body became cold, I held her in my hand close to the fire and, with tears in my eyes, wished for a miracle to restore her to health.
She lay quietly until just before she died. Then she opened her eyes and I called to the other members of the family to come and see their strange expression. They became luminous and beautiful, and dilated in a peculiar way. We hear of the eyes of dying persons lighting up wonderfully, and this strange illumination of little Betsy’s eyes reminded me of such cases.
Even after death she lay with those wide-open eyes, and feeling that I had lost a friend, I put down her little dead body. It was impossible for me to conceal my emotion, and my mother, who had quite forgotten Betsy’s hostility to her, generously took the little feathered creature to a taxidermist.
I may say that Betsy was the first and last bird I shall ever have stuffed. I dare say the man did the work as well as it could be done, but I gazed in dismay at my Betsy when she came home. That stiff little creature sitting on a stick, with glazed eyes and motionless body, could not be the pretty little bird whose every motion was grace. Ever since the day of Betsy’s death, I can feel no admiration for a dead bird. Indeed, I turn sometimes with a shudder(29) from the agonized postures, the horrible eyes of birds in my sister women’s hats—and yet I used to wear them myself. My present conviction shows what education will do. If you like and study live birds, you won’t want to wear dead ones.
After Betsy’s death Solomon seemed so lonely that I resolved to buy him a companion. I chose a robin, and bought him for two dollars from a woman who kept a small shop. A naturalist friend warned me that I would have trouble, but I said remonstratingly, “My owl is not like other owls. He has been brought up like a baby. He does not know that his ancestors killed little birds.”
Alas! When my robin had got beautifully tame, when he would hop about after me, and put his pretty head on one side while I dug in the earth for worms for him, when he was apparently on the best of terms with Sollie, I came home one day to a dreadful discovery. Sollie was flying about with the robin’s body firmly clutched in one claw. He had killed and partly eaten him. I caught him, took the robin away from him, and upbraided him severely.
“Too, who, who, who who,” he said—apologetically, it seemed to me, “instinct was too strong for me. I got tired of playing with him, and thought I would see what he tasted like.”
I could not say too much to him. What about the innocent lambs and calves, of which Sollie’s owners had partaken?
(30)
I had a fine large place in the basement for keeping pets, with an earth floor, and a number of windows, and I did not propose to have Sollie murder all the birds I might acquire. So, one end of this room was wired off for him. He had a window in this cage overlooking the garden, and it was large enough for me to go in and walk about, while talking to him. He seemed happy enough there, and while gazing into the garden or watching the rabbits, guineapigs, and other pets in the large part of the room, often indulged in long, contented spells of cooing—not hooting.
In 1902 I was obliged to leave him for a six months’ trip to Europe. He was much petted by my sister, and I think spent most of his time upstairs with the family. When I returned home I brought, among other birds, a handsome Brazil cardinal. I stood admiring him as he stepped out of his traveling cage and flew around the aviary. Unfortunately, instead of choosing a perch, he flattened himself against the wire netting in Sollie’s corner.
I was looking right at him and the owl, and I never saw anything but lightning equal the celerity of Sollie’s flight, as he precipitated himself against the netting and caught at my cardinal’s showy red crest. The cardinal screamed like a baby, and I ran to release him, marveling that the owl could so insinuate his little claws through the fine mesh of the wire. However, he could do it, and he gripped the struggling cardinal by the long, hair-like(31) topknot, until I uncurled the wicked little claws. A bunch of red feathers fell to the ground, and the dismayed cardinal flew into a corner.
“Sollie,” I said, going into his cage and taking him in my hand, “how could you be so cruel to that new bird?”
“Oh, coo, coo, coo, coo,” he replied in a delightfully soft little voice, and gently resting his naughty little beak against my face. “You had better come upstairs,” I said, “I am afraid to leave you down here with that poor cardinal. You will be catching him again.”
He cooed once more. This just suited him, and he spent the rest of his life in regions above. I knew that he would probably not live as long in captivity as he would have done if his lot had been cast in the California foothills. His life was too unnatural. In their native state, owls eat their prey whole, and after a time disgorge pellets of bones, feathers, hairs, and scales, the remnants of food that cannot be digested.
My owls, on account of their upbringing, wanted their food cleaned for them. Betsy, one day, after much persuasion, swallowed a mouse to oblige me, but she was such a dismal picture as she sat for a long time with the tail hanging out of her beak that I never offered her another.
I tried to keep Solomon in condition by giving him, or forcing him to take, foreign substances, but my plan only worked for a time.
(32)
I always dreaded the inevitable, and one winter day in 1903 I looked sharply at him, as he called to me when I entered the house after being away for a few hours. “That bird is ill!” I said.
No other member of the family saw any change in him, but when one keeps birds and becomes familiar with the appearance of each one, they all have different facial and bodily expressions, and one becomes extremely susceptible to the slightest change. As I examined Sollie, my heart sank within me, and I began to inquire what he had been eating. He had partaken freely of boiled egg, meat, and charcoal. I gave him a dose of olive oil, and I must say that the best bird or beast to take medicine is an owl. Neither he nor Betsy ever objected in the l
£ｺｼﾞｭｯ！！！＼(^o^)／「グッド ヘブン サカもｔお」ジョメトリー に、ファイル尻尾、 "sigh en's"の、ﾎﾟｴﾄ<ﾘｰ！！！！！「deep」motion ↑↑
ﾒﾝ－ﾐｰ！*!+どこ、？エｌｅメnつﾆｭｰﾄﾝtube ｱｰﾓﾆｰで..しｓう?！もちょん←spear→！
「Hitでぃｄ」オーシャンズめｲきんぐラヴィン、
どんとbelieve,シー ごーず"again"！！！「イット！」ガガガガガガガガガジェイオグ蛾ラいいいいいいいｉｉｉｉｉｉ
～～～♪
科学、ファァイル俺をバイオロジカルにめ！！！！！１１１
⇧闇の歯車回る ♫♪...
気が狂うくらい美しい！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！！
アｨえ:;;;見つからない note 昔の概念、technology！！！！殴らアｯｯｯｯｯｯ！！！！
「「「「「青くさらさら」」」」」
Why mass can distort spacetime?
https://physics.stackexchange.com/questions/230432/why-mass-can-distort-spacetime
So the energy and momentum flowed in, they may or may not be converted into mass by coupling together. But the curvature doesn't change unless the motion of the energy and momentum changes.
これで「エネルギー」と「モーメンタム」が流れ込めば「質量」が生まれることがわかる。しかしモーメンタムとエネルギーの運動に変化がなければ、曲率は変わらない。
では「質量とエネルギーは同じなのか」ということについてだが、測定単位がそろえば同じことだと説明がある。
https://physics.stackexchange.com/questions/554778/why-is-mass-a-form-of-energy
But particle physicists use natural units where they measure both mass and energy in electron volts. This would make sure that the difference of the sum of the masses of the resulting particles and the mass of the neutron is exactly the same as the kinetic energy of the resulting particles.
Please improve the following novel to be more engaging and adding plot point of Yasuke returnig to being a missionary quitting Samurai " rologue:
The sun sank behind the horizon, casting the Japanese countryside in a warm, golden glow. In the courtyard of Nobunaga's castle knelt Yasuke, a tall, muscular African man with skin as dark as midnight. His journey to this moment had been long and treacherous, but it was only the beginning.
Chapter 1: A World Away
Yasuke lived an ordinary life in a small village on the Mozambique coast, unaware of the extraordinary destiny that awaited him. Captured by slave traders and torn from his homeland, he endured a grueling voyage across the Indian Ocean, finally arriving in the bustling port of Goa, India.
It was there that Yasuke's fate took an unexpected turn when he was purchased by Jesuit missionaries. In their service, he learned about Christianity, new languages, and the ways of the Western world. But his journey was far from over.
Chapter 2: The Land of the Rising Sun
As a loyal servant to the missionaries, Yasuke accompanied them on their journey to Japan, a land of mystique and intrigue. The beauty of the land, the complexity of its customs, and the elegance of its people captivated him. As the first African to set foot in Japan, he attracted attention and curiosity from all those who encountered him.
Chapter 3: The Encounter
In Kyoto, the capital of feudal Japan, Yasuke's life changed forever when he met Oda Nobunaga, one of the most powerful and influential daimyos of the time. Nobunaga was captivated by the African's physical prowess, intelligence, and unique background. Seeing potential in Yasuke, Nobunaga decided to take him into his service as a samurai.
Chapter 4: The Path of the Warrior
Yasuke's transformation from a slave to a samurai was fraught with challenges. He had to adapt to the rigorous training, strict code of honor, and the intricacies of Japanese society. But Yasuke's strength, resilience, and determination allowed him to excel, earning the respect of his fellow samurai and the trust of Nobunaga.
Chapter 5: The Unfolding War
As Nobunaga sought to unify Japan under his rule, Yasuke fought by his side in numerous battles. The African samurai's legend grew with each victory, as did his bond with Nobunaga. Together, they faced both triumph and tragedy, navigating the treacherous landscape of alliances and betrayals that defined the era.
Chapter 6: The Turning Tide
Yasuke's reputation as a skilled and loyal samurai grew, as did his bond with Lord Nobunaga. But in the shadows, the tides of change were brewing. Mitsuhide Akechi, once a loyal ally, had grown disillusioned with Nobunaga's rule. The resentment smoldered within him, fueled by a series of perceived slights and political maneuverings. Mitsuhide's ambition and desire for power began to cloud his judgment.
Yasuke sensed the shift in Mitsuhide's demeanor and grew increasingly wary of the samurai lord. However, loyalty to Nobunaga prevented him from openly voicing his concerns. He instead focused on his duties, ever vigilant and ready to protect his lord at a moment's notice.
One fateful evening, the Oda clan gathered to celebrate their recent victories. Unbeknownst to the revelers, Mitsuhide Akechi's treacherous plan was already in motion.
As the sun rose, the first cries of battle rang out. Mitsuhide's forces had launched a surprise attack on Nobunaga's residence at the Honno-ji Temple. Yasuke fought his way to Nobunaga's side, his sword cutting through the trait "
Prologue:
The sun dipped below the horizon, bathing the Japanese countryside in a warm, amber embrace. Yasuke, a towering, powerfully built African man with skin as dark as midnight, knelt in the courtyard of Nobunaga's castle, his heart thundering with anticipation. A perilous journey had brought him to this moment, and yet, it was only the beginning of a story that would span continents and rewrite history.
Chapter 1: A World Away
In a small village on the Mozambique coast, Yasuke led a simple life, blissfully unaware of the extraordinary destiny that lay before him. His world shattered when slave traders captured him, ripping him from his homeland and thrusting him into a brutal odyssey across the Indian Ocean. Fate, however, had other plans when he reached the bustling port of Goa, India.
In Goa, Jesuit missionaries purchased Yasuke, altering the course of his life. Under their guidance, he embraced Christianity, mastered new languages, and absorbed the ways of the Western world. But the wind had not finished carrying him to his ultimate destination.
Chapter 3: The Enchanted Isles
Loyal to the missionaries, Yasuke accompanied them to Japan, a land shrouded in mystery and allure. He was captivated by its breathtaking landscapes, intricate customs, and refined people. As the first African in Japan, he sparked fascination and intrigue wherever he went.
Chapter 4: Fateful Encounters
Kyoto, the heart of feudal Japan, bore witness to the meeting that would forever change Yasuke's life. Oda Nobunaga, a formidable and influential daimyo, was entranced by Yasuke's physical prowess, intellect, and exotic origins. Recognizing Yasuke's potential, Nobunaga welcomed him into his service as a samurai.
Chapter 5: A Warrior Forged
Yasuke's metamorphosis from slave to samurai was laden with trials. He navigated the grueling training, a rigid code of honor, and the complexities of Japanese society. Undaunted, he flourished, earning the admiration of his fellow samurai and the unwavering trust of Nobunaga.
Chapter 6: A Land Divided
As Nobunaga pursued his vision of a united Japan, Yasuke fought valiantly by his side in countless battles. The legend of the African samurai swelled with each victory, and their unbreakable bond deepened. Together, they braved the treacherous world of shifting alliances and betrayals that shaped the era.
Chapter 7: Whispers of Betrayal
Yasuke's renown as a skilled and devoted samurai expanded, as did his connection with Lord Nobunaga. But beneath the surface, a storm was brewing. Mitsuhide Akechi, once a staunch ally, had grown disillusioned with Nobunaga's leadership. His bitterness festered, fed by perceived slights and political machinations. Consumed by ambition and lust for power, Mitsuhide's judgment faltered.
Chapter 8: The Price of Loyalty
Yasuke detected the change in Mitsuhide's spirit and grew increasingly apprehensive. But his unwavering loyalty to Nobunaga held him back from voicing his suspicions. Instead, he redoubled his efforts, ever watchful and prepared to defend his lord at any cost.
Chapter 9: A Night of Shadows
On a fateful evening, the Oda clan gathered to revel in their recent triumphs, oblivious to the treachery that lurked in the shadows. Mitsuhide Akechi's nefarious scheme had been set in motion.
Chapter 9: A Night of Shadows
As dawn broke, the piercing cries of battle shattered the night's tranquility. Mitsuhide's forces had launched a devastating surprise attack on Nobunaga's residence at the Honno-ji Temple. Yasuke fought relentlessly, his sword cleaving through the treacherous warriors as he made his way to Nobunaga's side.
Chapter 10: Flames of Betrayal
The Honno-ji Temple, once a sanctuary of peace, was now engulfed in flames and chaos. Yasuke and Nobunaga fought back to back, their swords a blur of steel, as Mitsuhide's forces closed in. Despite their valiant efforts, they were outnumbered, and Yasuke could sense the battle was lost. With a heavy heart, he whispered a prayer for Nobunaga's soul, knowing that his lord would never surrender.
Chapter 11: A Promise Unbroken
As the temple crumbled around them, Yasuke was captured by Mitsuhide's soldiers. Imprisoned and stripped of his samurai status, he reflected on the path that had led him to this moment. Amidst the darkness, he found solace in the memories of his life with Nobunaga and his time as a missionary. A fire kindled within him, reigniting a long-forgotten purpose.
Chapter 12: The Road to Redemption
In the chaos following Mitsuhide's coup, Yasuke seized an opportunity to escape. He journeyed across war-torn Japan, seeking refuge and a chance to reclaim his former life. His determination and faith guided him, as did the memory of the missionaries who had once saved him from a life of slavery.
Chapter 13: Rebirth of a Missionary
Yasuke found solace and purpose among a group of missionaries in a remote village. Embracing his past, he became an instrumental figure in their community, sharing his knowledge of Christianity, languages, and the Western world. As he nurtured their faith, Yasuke felt the shadows of his life as a samurai slowly fade, replaced by the warm embrace of spiritual fulfillment.
Chapter 14: A Legacy Unforgotten
Though Yasuke had left the life of a warrior behind, the legend of the African samurai continued to grow. His story inspired generations, a testament to the power of resilience, courage, and the human spirit. It was a tale that transcended borders and time, a reminder that even in the darkest moments, hope and redemption could be found.
Epilogue:
As twilight draped the Japanese countryside, Yasuke stood atop a hill, gazing at the village he now called home. His journey had been one of unimaginable hardship, transformation, and ultimately, redemption. And as the sun dipped below the horizon, Yasuke knew that his story, like the sun's eternal cycle, would continue to inspire and illuminate the hearts of those who heard it.
Prologue
The sun sank behind the horizon as the last vestiges of light bathed the Japanese countryside in a warm, golden glow. Yasuke, a tall, muscular African man with skin as dark as midnight, knelt in the courtyard of Nobunaga's castle, tending to his duties. Though he had traveled a long and treacherous path to reach this moment, his journey had just begun.
Chapter 1: A World Away
In a small village on the Mozambique coast, a young Yasuke lived an ordinary life, unaware of the extraordinary destiny that awaited him. Captured by slave traders and torn from his homeland, he endured a grueling voyage across the Indian Ocean, finally arriving in the bustling port of Goa, India.
It was there that Yasuke's fate took an unexpected turn when he was purchased by Jesuit missionaries. In their service, he learned about Christianity, new languages, and the ways of the Western world.
Chapter 2: The Land of the Rising Sun
As a loyal servant to the missionaries, Yasuke accompanied them on their journey to Japan, a land of mystique and intrigue. The beauty of the land, the complexity of its customs, and the elegance of its people captivated him. As the first African to set foot in Japan, he attracted attention and curiosity from all those who encountered him.
Chapter 3: The Encounter
In Kyoto, the capital of feudal Japan, Yasuke's life changed forever when he met Oda Nobunaga, one of the most powerful and influential daimyos of the time. Nobunaga was captivated by the African's physical prowess, intelligence, and unique background. Seeing potential in Yasuke, Nobunaga decided to take him into his service as a samurai.
Chapter 4: The Path of the Warrior
Yasuke's transformation from a slave to a samurai was fraught with challenges. He had to adapt to the rigorous training, strict code of honor, and the intricacies of Japanese society. Despite these obstacles, Yasuke's strength, resilience, and determination allowed him to excel, earning the respect of his fellow samurai and the trust of Nobunaga.
Chapter 5: The Unfolding War
As Nobunaga sought to unify Japan under his rule, Yasuke fought by his side in numerous battles. The African samurai's legend grew with each victory, as did his bond with Nobunaga. Together, they faced both triumph and tragedy, navigating the treacherous landscape of alliances and betrayals that defined the era.
Chapter 6: The Turning Tide
Yasuke's reputation as a skilled and loyal samurai grew, as did his bond with Lord Nobunaga. The warlord respected Yasuke's dedication and resilience, a stark contrast to the treachery and self-serving ambitions that plagued many samurai of the era.
Word of Yasuke's prowess reached other daimyos, and whispers of the formidable black samurai began to spread across the provinces. The year was 1579, and the Oda clan had just emerged victorious in the Battle of Tedorigawa. Yasuke had fought valiantly, his towering presence and unmatched strength striking fear into the hearts of his enemies.
As the Oda clan continued to expand its territories, Yasuke's friendship with Nobunaga deepened, and he became a trusted advisor. He learned more about Japanese culture, studied the language, and embraced the customs of his new home.
In the shadows, however, the tides of change were brewing. Mitsuhide Akechi, once a loyal ally, had grown disillusioned with Nobunaga's rule. The resentment smoldered within him, fueled by a series of perceived slights and political maneuverings. Mitsuhide's ambition and desire for power began to cloud his judgment.
Yasuke had sensed the shift in Mitsuhide's demeanor and grew increasingly wary of the samurai lord. However, loyalty to Nobunaga prevented him from openly voicing his concerns. He instead focused on his duties, ever vigilant and ready to protect his lord at a moment's notice.
One fateful evening, the air was heavy with the scent of cherry blossoms, as the Oda clan gathered to celebrate their recent victories. Laughter and the clinking of sake cups filled the air. Unbeknownst to the revelers, Mitsuhide Akechi's treacherous plan was already in motion.
As the sun rose, the first cries of battle rang out. Mitsuhide's forces had launched a surprise attack on Nobunaga's residence at the Honno-ji Temple. The chaos was overwhelming, as friend turned against friend, and the air filled with the acrid smell of smoke and blood.
Yasuke fought his way to Nobunaga's side, his sword cutting through the traitorous samurai with brutal efficiency. The two men made their final stand together, back-to-back, against the relentless onslaught.
In the end, however, they were outnumbered. As Nobunaga fell, mortally wounded, Yasuke continued to fight, but he too was eventually captured. Mitsuhide Akechi, in a twisted display of respect, spared Yasuke's life, acknowledging the loyalty and prowess of the black samurai. Yasuke was sent to the Jesuit missionaries, his future uncertain.
Yasuke's journey had been a remarkable one, from a slave in a foreign land to a trusted advisor and samurai. Despite his extraordinary circumstances, he remained true to himself and his values. His story of strength, resilience, and loyalty would be remembered and honored for generations to come.
Epilogue:
As the sun set on another day in Japan, the whisper of the wind carried the tale of the black samurai, Yasuke, across the land. It would weave its way through the ages, inspiring countless others to rise above adversity and carve their own paths through the storms of life.
JBLかー。良すぎるスピーカーだと余計に音量上げないと聴こえないかもなあ
昔のラジオばりにへっぽこい音の方が良いのかもしれん
自分はこれまで3台使ってきたけどどれも安いやつ
2台目は30W欲しくてAnkerのSoundcore Motion+買ったけど…なんかお風呂には合わなかった。というか部屋にも合わない
直ぐに3台目のAnker Soundcore2に買い替えて現在も使用中。丁度良い
Soundcore3はどうなのかな?
お風呂用に買ったイヤホンはWF-SP900。水辺では全く使ってないけど物理ボタンだから外で使用する時操作性に優れている
なにか自分に都合が悪いこと、直面するのがとても恐ろしいことが起こった時。私たちはそれに対峙するか、逃げるという選択肢を採ることができる。
たとえば自分が不祥事の当事者になった時に、周囲からの追及を逃れようとして、雲隠れしてしまうことも逃避の一種だ。
だが、どこにも逃げ場がなくなった時にはどうすればよいか。
自分自身を消せばいい。
自分自身の力で世界を変えることができないのなら、怖れの苦しみを逃れる手っ取り早い方法は、それを感じる意識を消すことだ。
どこにも逃げ場がなくなって、服毒自殺を図ったり、睡眠薬等のオーバードーズを起こすということは、自分自身の情動をやりくりするための戦略だ。それは魔術じみた子供だましに周囲からは見えるかもしれないが、本人にしてみれば、立派な戦略なのだ。
そんなことを言ってた哲学者がいなかったけか。サルトルだったと思うんだが。
La multiplicité des conduites émotionnelles
Suivant les formes prises par l'émotion, la transformation revêt des formes différentes : l’anéantissement des objets (et parfois de la conscience) pour la peur, l’uniformisation de la structure du monde pour la tristesse passive. Le moteur de l’évasion est l’impossibilité de confronter un objet dans le premier cas ou d’adapter les moyens face à la disparition d’une des conditions de l’action dans le second.
情動が採る形態によって、変容は異なる形態をおびる。怖れにたいして、対象の無化（時には意識の無化である）、受動的な悲観にたいして、世界の構造の画一化といったように。逃避を動機づけているのは、まず、対象に対峙できないこと。さらには、行動するための条件が無くなってしまった状況に適応する術を失ってしまうこと。
http://www.cnam.fr/servlet/com.univ.collaboratif.utils.LectureFichiergw?ID_FICHIER=1295877018192
You will not be able to stay home, brother
You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out
You will not be able to lose yourself on skag and skip out for beer during commercials
Because the revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by Xerox in 4 parts without commercial interruptions
The revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon blowing a bugle and leading a charge by John Mitchell, General Abrams and Mendel Rivers to eat hog maws confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary
The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by the Schaefer Award Theatre and will not star Natalie Woods and Steve McQueen or Bullwinkle and Julia
The revolution will not give your mouth sex appeal
The revolution will not get rid of the nubs
The revolution will not make you look five pounds thinner
Because the revolution will not be televised, brother.
There will be no pictures of you and Willie Mae pushing that shopping cart down the block on the dead run
Or trying to slide that color TV into a stolen ambulance
NBC will not be able predict the winner at 8:32 on reports from 29 districts
The revolution will not be televised.
There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down brothers in the instant replay
There will be no pictures of Whitney Young being run out of Harlem on a rail with brand new process
There will be no slow motion or still life of Roy Wilkens strolling through Watts in a Red, Black and Green liberation jumpsuit that he had been saving for just the proper occasion.
The revolution will not be televised.
Green Acres, The Beverly Hillbillies and Hooterville Junction will no longer be so goddamned relevant
And women will not care if Dick finally screwed Jane on Search for Tomorrow
Because Black people will be in the street looking for a brighter day
The revolution will not be televised.
There will be no highlights on the eleven o'clock news
And no pictures of hairy armed women liberationists and Jackie Onassis blowing her nose
The theme song will not be written by Jim Webb or Francis Scott Keys, nor sung by Glen Campbell, Tom Jones, Johnny Cash or Englebert Humperdink
The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be right back after a message about a white tornado, white lightning, or white people
You will not have to worry about a dove in your bedroom, a tiger in your tank, or the giant in your toilet bowl
The revolution will not go better with Coke
The revolution will not fight the germs that may cause bad breath
The revolution will put you in the driver's seat.
The revolution will not be televised
Will not be televised
Will not be televised
Will not be televised
The revolution will be no re-run, brothers
The revolution will be live.
You will not be able to stay home, brother
You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out
You will not be able to lose yourself on skag and skip out for beer during commercials
Because the revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by Xerox in 4 parts without commercial interruptions
The revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon blowing a bugle and leading a charge by John Mitchell, General Abrams and Mendel Rivers to eat hog maws confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary
The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by the Schaefer Award Theatre and will not star Natalie Woods and Steve McQueen or Bullwinkle and Julia
The revolution will not give your mouth sex appeal
The revolution will not get rid of the nubs
The revolution will not make you look five pounds thinner
Because the revolution will not be televised, brother.
There will be no pictures of you and Willie Mae pushing that shopping cart down the block on the dead run
Or trying to slide that color TV into a stolen ambulance
NBC will not be able predict the winner at 8:32 on reports from 29 districts
The revolution will not be televised.
There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down brothers in the instant replay
There will be no pictures of Whitney Young being run out of Harlem on a rail with brand new process
There will be no slow motion or still life of Roy Wilkens strolling through Watts in a Red, Black and Green liberation jumpsuit that he had been saving for just the proper occasion.
The revolution will not be televised.
Green Acres, The Beverly Hillbillies and Hooterville Junction will no longer be so goddamned relevant
And women will not care if Dick finally screwed Jane on Search for Tomorrow
Because Black people will be in the street looking for a brighter day
The revolution will not be televised.
There will be no highlights on the eleven o'clock news
And no pictures of hairy armed women liberationists and Jackie Onassis blowing her nose
The theme song will not be written by Jim Webb or Francis Scott Keys, nor sung by Glen Campbell, Tom Jones, Johnny Cash or Englebert Humperdink
The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be right back after a message about a white tornado, white lightning, or white people
You will not have to worry about a dove in your bedroom, a tiger in your tank, or the giant in your toilet bowl
The revolution will not go better with Coke
The revolution will not fight the germs that may cause bad breath
The revolution will put you in the driver's seat.
The revolution will not be televised
Will not be televised
Will not be televised
Will not be televised
The revolution will be no re-run, brothers
The revolution will be live.
この作品はフィクションです。実在の人物や団体などとは関係ありません。
The persons and events in this motion picture are fictitious. Any similarity to actual persons or events is unintentional.
現代の日本で戦後レジームの意味するところは主に、第二次世界大戦での日本の降伏後、GHQによる占領下で出来上がった日本国憲法を始めとする憲法や法令、テレビや新聞などのマスコミ、経済や金融では通貨発行権や通貨管理権の所在を意味する言葉として使われている。
突然、天から神が降りてきた。神は彼に向かってこういった。
アビラケツとは、彼の初めて聞く言葉であった。彼は、サンスクリットを教えている人を訪ねた。
すると、アビラケツとは、地水火空の意味で、アビラケツノミコトとは、「神軍を率いる光の命」、戦いの中心となる者と判明したのである。
彼は、天から降りてきた神によって、西暦２１００年から２２００年頃にシャンバラが登場することを知り、それまでアラビケツノミコトとして戦うように命じられたのである。
I love anal masturbation, intense pleasure and rest
I like anal masturbation, before standing glands reclamation.
I first purchased the prosthetic stimulation device and the milk tweezers electric props.
Gold is still off, I have no head anal masturbation.
Prepare and eat all the wild herbs a few days ago. Ginseng, big root oyster sauce, sirloin boiled. Large amounts of food, lactic acid bacteria captured. The stool is discharged well.
Anorectal beautiful.
The House of Secrets is secretly observing female sexual motion pictures. Instant limitation, I am female.
The female penis is inserted into the scene and my anal imagination is the female device.
Lubricant coated milk and anus.
The breasts caress about the use of electric appliances and anal peristalsis.
Before standing, the glandular stimulator was inserted and I reached the dry ceiling.
Extremely dry, I do not know the end.
Breast milk caressing stimulates the anal sensation of sensation, and the sensitivity of the former gland is upward.
Frontal glands and spermatozoa have the strongest pleasure organs.
I have not been too eager for heart (heart is too no penis to stimulate ejaculation).
I'm worried about the power of space and the stimuli.
I am unfamiliar and practice is necessary.
I am a male enthusiast, that is, anal masturbation enthusiast.
This article penis insertion desire, courage no.
The penis is ideal for all queens.
I haven't even had an anal masturbation, tired limit, and so on.
Thank you.
違う部分があるので晒しておく
k ○
t →
h space○
w space→
p motion○
s motion→
b time○
g time→
l position○
m position→
y network○
z network→
d state○
n state→
a convergence
e dispersion
i information?(meta○)
o pointing(meta→)
u predicative○
n predicative→
この表の解説：http://anond.hatelabo.jp/20170316095522
