Yotam Gingold
Plant a tree.

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translated poetry:
night-finds were strewn about the valley
the river was flowing and rushing
the nightingale was chirp chirp
the trees were rustle-rustle
and the stars twinkled sharply, absent moon


academic website

Permutations

iBooBoo | Shofar Hero (iTunes link)

Melon Story (movie)

Rap Rap Revolution

JavaScript reference for non-JavaScript programmers

useful code snippets

National Geographic Society

tumblelog (japan)

I cameo'd (feb) in Phases Crossed

Dr. Lara Kassoff, the best psychologist


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The Escape Artist (2)

I woke up to a humming sounds and two yellow eyes taking me in like a giant labrador tongue. But this was no labrador. It was small and black, with fiber optic cables out either side of the face. The mouth was smaller, too, and the nose more compact and efficient. This one wasn't looking for me so much as it found me and didn't know what to do with me. I let it lead me (or did I follow it?) out a side door and into the alleyway. There it paused for a moment, perhaps hearing something, before beginning its ascent. I started to climb the fire escape, hoping that (a) it wanted me to follow and (b) there was no trap at the end of it all.