LA BOCCA DEL TEMPO

LA BOCCA DEL TEMPO

Computer artwork of black hole A black hole is an object so compact that nothing can escape its gravitational pull. Not even light. On Earth an object needs to be launched with a speed of 11 km s if it is to escape the planet s gravity and go into orbit. But the escape velocity of a black hole exceeds the speed of light. Since nothing can travel faster than this ultimate speed, black holes suck in everything including light, which makes them utterly dark and invisible. In this image, we can see a black hole, but only because it is surrounded by a superheated disc of material, an accretion disc. The closer to the hole the material gets, the more and more of its light is captured, which is why the hole grows darker towards its cente. PUBLICATIONxINxGERxSUIxHUNxONLY MARKxGARLICK/SCIENCExPHOTOxLIBRARY F004/1185 Computer Artwork of Black Hole a Black Hole IS to Object as Compact Thatcher Nothing CAN Escape its gravitational pull Not even Light ON Earth to Object needs to Be launched With a Speed of 11 km S If IT IS to Escape The Planet S Gravity and Go into Orbit but The Escape Velocity of a Black Hole Exceed The Speed of Light Since Nothing CAN Travel Faster than This Ultimate Speed Black holes Suck in Everything including Light Which makes THEM Utterly Dark and Invisible in This Image We CAN Lake a Black Hole but Only because IT IS surrounded by a Disc of Material to accretion Disc The CLOSER to The Hole The Material GETS The More and More of its Light IS captured Which IS Why The Hole GROWS darker Towards its Cente PUBLICATIONxINxGERxSUIxHUNxONLY MARKxGARLICK SCIENCExPHOTOxLIBRARY F004

di Cornelio Galas

 

Le fauci orribili del tempo

che rimane,

sempre più larghe, avide

e mai sazie.

 

Rotolano dalle sommità,

quei massi,

poi riportati d’istinto

in alto.

 

Antiche e nuove formule

matematiche,

tra vecchi e nuovi

riti religiosi.

 

Non sta più la verità

nel mezzo,

ma nelle recondite

filosofie.

 

E sbattono tante porte,

nei giri d’aria,

provocati da ideologie

senza idee.

 

Non gira più il giradischi

a trentatrè giri,

sono rotte le corde

della chitarra.

 

E’ colpa della nostalgia,

dei ricordi ?

No, è colpa della storia

scritta in fretta.

 

L’acqua annega tutto,

con crudeltà,

non arriva più aria,

non arriva …

 

Se ti venissi in mente,

dopo,

pensa solo a quello

ch’ero prima.

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