irisquest.net

Did you ever need to copy a layer mask from one layer to another? In Photoshop this is a very easy process, which involves only the mouse and the Ctrl key, but in GIMP things aren't that straightforward (but not much complicated either).

The little things are the ones that matter most, at least this is what I was thinking about a few days ago.

Some doors should never be opened. They might be from a different time, a time that is not compatible with our own. And when we dare to explore their hidden passage, we might face ghosts that cannot be defeated.

I've been playing with Ubuntu 8.04 (Hardy) for the past couple of days. It's an amazing distribution, way better than anything I've seen before. As a desktop distribution everything seems to run out of box.

It's quite strange, but whenever I look back at my past, the little things are the ones that I remember most. Of course, I recall that exam which I thought it would change my future; but I remember a lot more details about that day, when my friend came to my house to do our homework together.

Standing at the crossroads of two small streets, this "steel giraffe" with red and white decorations was watching everyone. Whenever someone wanted to cross the street, the big window would turn around and show them who they really were.

A few years ago, a friend showed me one of the most beautiful tree drawings (there's also a psychological test, The Baum Test which involves this). It had one very strong and obvious characteristic: the branches were all directed towards the sky; not in a normal form, but almost like they were grabbing, craving for the sky.

It's probably odd to post an autumn photograph in the middle of spring - well, at the end of spring at least. This has been in my queue for quite some time (again) so I really need to clean things up a bit and post the old, pending photos.

“Life is like a rainbow. You need both the sun and the rain to make its colors appear.”

What a rainy night! I really liked how the water droplets were reflecting the light; it was one of those slow, continuous rains that give you the impression that mother nature is weeping her sorrows.

It was 10:14 - and I'm sure of that. What did you do yesterday at this time? What will you do tomorrow? Suppose that by pushing this button, the clock would stop. It would allow us to devour the present completely, to enjoy every bit from it; and when we're done with it, we can just push the button again and try our luck with the next moment in time.