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Hublot Antikythera Calibre 2033-CH01 Limited Edition, Mathias Buttet, 2011

 

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aq8YxXruRkw&feature=fvwrel

 

Movement functions Hours, minutes

Seconds via the tourbillon cage

Flying tourbillon without ball bearing

Manual winding

View of dial Egyptian Calendar

Calendar for the Panhellenic games

Zodiac

Aperture showing moon

Lunar phases

Aperture showing sun

View of bridges Metonic cycle

Saros cycle

Callippic cycle

Exeligmos cycle

Main characteristics

Dimensions Width 30.40 mm

of shaped movement Length 38.00 mm

Thickness 14.14 mm (overall dimensions)

Time-setting stem (3 o'clock) Manual winding 2-position Time setting

Number of jewels 69

Number of components 495 Hairspring Flat for extremely accurate setting Frequency 21,600 Vib/h (3 Hz)

Power reserve Approximately 120 hours (5 days)

Oscillator (made in-house) Balance with adjustment inertia-blocks

Moment of inertia: 16mg/cm2

Lift angle: 53°

Shock absorbers Shock absorption for main plate and balance bridge

Main plate and bridges Brass, bevelled with drawn rims, and circular-grained recesses

Coating: black ruthenium

Dial showing cycles and calendar Circular-graining, 5N gold coating Gear train Circular-grained & bevelled wheels, coating: rhodium, rolled pinions

Fasteners Polished and bevelled heads, rounded and polished ends Steel parts Satin-finished, bevelled, with drawn rims

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Οὖτιν με κικλήσκουσι

 

My Optics

Δημοσιεύτηκε

Winter Stars, Larry Levis, 1946-1996

 

My father once broke a man's hand

Over the exhaust pipe of a John Deere tractor. The man,

Ruben Vasquez, wanted to kill his own father

With a sharpened fruit knife, & he held

The curved tip of it, lightly, between his first

Two fingers, so it could slash

Horizontally, & with surprising grace,

Across a throat. It was like a glinting beak in a hand,

And, for a moment, the light held still

On those vines. When it was over,

My father simply went in & ate lunch, & then, as always,

Lay alone in the dark, listening to music.

He never mentioned it.

I never understood how anyone could risk his life,

Then listen to Vivaldi.

Sometimes, I go out into this yard at night,

And stare through the wet branches of an oak

In winter, & realize I am looking at the stars

Again. A thin haze of them, shining

And persisting.

It used to make me feel lighter, looking up at them.

In California, that light was closer.

In a California no one will ever see again,

My father is beginning to die. Something

Inside him is slowly taking back

Every word it ever gave him.

Now, if we try to talk, I watch my father

Search for a lost syllable as if it might

Solve everything, & though he can't remember, now,

The word for it, he is ashamed...

If you think of the mind as a place continually

Visited, a whole city placed behind

The eyes, & shining, I can imagine, now, its end --

As when the lights go off, one by one,

In a hotel at night, until at last

All the travelers will be asleep, or until

Even the thin glow from the lobby is a kind

Of sleep; & while the woman behind the desk

Is applying more lacquer to her nails,

You can almost believe that the elevator,

As it ascends, must open upon starlight.

I stand out on the street, & do not go in.

That was our agreement, at my birth.

And for years I believed

That what went unsaid between us became empty,

And pure, like starlight, & that it persisted.

I got it all wrong.

I wound up believing in words the way a scientist

Believes in carbon, after death.

Tonight, I'm talking to you, father, although

It is quiet here in the Midwest, where a small wind,

The size of a wrist, wakes the cold again --

Which may be all that's left of you & me.

When I left home at seventeen, I left for good.

That pale haze of stars goes on & on,

Like laughter that has found a final, silent shape

On a black sky. It means everything

It cannot say. Look, it's empty out there, & cold.

Cold enough to reconcile

Even a father, even a son.

stars_011117_08_unlabeled.jpg.416895c363ebc88b09b66ab65871cf7c.jpg

Οὖτιν με κικλήσκουσι

 

My Optics

Δημοσιεύτηκε

The Galaxy, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 1807-1882

 

Torrent of light and river of the air,

Along whose bed the glimmering stars are seen

Like gold and silver sands in some ravine

Where mountain streams have left their channels bare !

The Spaniard sees in thee the pathway, where

His patron saint descended in the sheen

Of his celestial armor on serene

And quiet nights, when all the heavens were fair.

Not this I see, nor yet the ancient fable

Of Phaeton's wild course, that scorched the skies

Where'er the hoofs of his hot coursers trod ;

But the white drift of worlds o'er chasms of sable,

The star dust, that is whirled aloft and flies

From the invisible chariot-wheels of God.

skymt_payne_big.jpg.a535977a410a2f018b841838539506eb.jpg

Οὖτιν με κικλήσκουσι

 

My Optics

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