Three of my found-object-sculptures below!  The true engineer would spell, yes for see.  

Strange book written by TTH and published on Amazon: Book 

HerE: Collection of Photos and  Tom's Photog

 ->        <+>  JUST BELOW IS A short_STORY <?>

We were not born with Mars, or tars in the gut of ours. Our words were not spoken to us by mumbling mothers, as it has been discovered that a lone Martian sat two degrees above absolute Zero, but not of pain and only to beckon solitude. Beckon the ratio of salt to atomic liquid and overwhelming multiplied pangs of earth's calling and jaded truths that bubbled above the ocean floor. Riveted by pirate ships, the lone wolf surfer free-styled raggedly through flourishing waves, as an entry point to the only way to understand entropy. Freestyle is a technique in competitive swimming, also known as the German Crawl, and modern surfers know it well. As Issac Newton would point out, the secant must bend into the quadrilateral of a right prism to calculate the North Star, not without those who are forsaken just like a shark straight out of prison time. However, the shark must foresee this keen Silver Being paddling in the profession of surfer in keen constants of ocean chores to keep his silver soul out of prison. The earth mantle that bleeds the 7 seas never questions the stroke of those on surfboards, which must be precise to cut the crystals of ocean day, and salt pillars might wail to put it biblically, but still one must turn around before ensuing waves to front out being turned into a Pillar of Salt. To backtrack slightly, this surfer got his GED junior year, and earned a bachelor's in geology his senior year after graduating high school out of a plethora of perfect test scores, and endeavors of entrails through the mind of those unknown, and still unborn. The city council to which he lived certified his record breaking educational achievement. Mr. Silver solved an earthquake problem, by instituting reason beyond current modern measure, and was able to patent a device that measured geo-electricity. However, the Silver Soul felt he must exit this academic hill. A homeless man named Gray, with a lion jaw and only a single cracked tooth to contrast a rather well kept full set of 32 teeth bespoke, "Venture to the depths my old friend of the oldest mind, tackle what squid would mistake as salmon and trout would mislabel as krill, as the whale's stomach is never for you." The scrappy surfer in the next ten years only became more scrappy. He started off surfing a great set of 15 foot waves at Jaws in Hawaii, but the comment from Homeless Gray could never put his mind at ease, until this Silver Soul surfer could come to what he must do. That is, even though the keen surfing mind landed three consecutive arcing barrels, and was congratulated by his comrades, he never left the ocean for a decade. He would out-swim sharks, and learned to stomach horrid smelling squid and ingested saltwater until all of his bones cracked, but yet grew stronger and thicker to find the Will of the Great White, and would always outgun the Thresher sharks in a bubbling, rocket-kicker, heaving with machine surfing hands while waving salted atomic liquids never away behind dust in 1200 meter freestyle after 1200 meter freestyle. He never knew his father, who was truly the only pirating forgiveness, unless it was his son dubbed Soul Silver who found his calling in the oceans of Earth. Could a tsunami forgive a Martian? The Martian is Silver’s only non-prodigal relative. Soul Silver grew tired though, after his longboard cracked in half after being 5 years out at sea, to which his once dubbed human body had mutated. Saltwater was no longer even a slight impurity to him, and became friends with the fish, but was unable to find any mermaids. After 5 years struggling board-less, he saw a strange man on a sailboat who appeared to be pulsating like the heliocentric frequencies give reason to philosophical literature, at its finest. The man said, "Climb about Mr. Silver," to which the tortured man in the blue cracking ocean replied, "How could you or anyone know me?" The strange Sun Man simply shrugged and said, "Eat this Burger with a brioche bun, bacon, lettuce, angus beef, and the Finest French Cheese." Then Silver replied, "Mars dammit, alright sure." After Silver devoured his tasty meal, his eyes started to glow clear. The only thing that was noted in the mind of Mr. Sun, 'Poor boy.' Mr. Sun took him a mile from the shore of Honolulu and said, "Swim this mile in the ocean azure and make it your last, kid." Soul Silver made it to the shore, and appeared to anyone else like the scarred comic book character, DeadPool. He got some fries to go with his already digested Signature Sun Burger. He stepped outside the restaurant joint and saw a boy with green eyes and a clever smile slow his cobalt colored ride to a halt. Soul Silver simply said, "Are you going to build gardens, sprinkler systems, and robots?" Then the green eyed boy replied, "No, I'm good. There is texture to the sun but no holes in Metal." Then Soul Silver vanished, and the green eyed boy on bicycle felt the first sense of peace for what felt like 203 years. No one had seen Soul Silver ever again, but strange talk was made about the clever boy with green eyes for years to come at last.

                                                                   Part [Li] ----- [iL] traP

                                    Continuation of 'Texture to the sun, but no holes in metal.'

(Paw’s Fallacy) 

by WZIZEK known to be Thomas Tim Halley

Where is a criminal that is willfully interested in the destruction of paint, nor but the will of a painter? To see into a Van Gohh for destruction, and drive all atomic impulses outward. The Painting of Starry Night by V.G. is no longer a position of self to muster inwardly, but a demarcation between a camera and a canvas, so why choose the camera? The only light in the world’s universe never needed a camera. A stoned being walked to a bus-stop and cast a glance at the seriousness of a toy plastic rifle in a stranded shopping cart, and saw the greatest pure light walk toward him with a shining face and glowering backpack that casted aside all unlawful shadows. The shopping cart didn’t feel that wistful to the stoned being, and in this motif inanimate objects have feelings. The Golden light of Lion-Men took the blue toy gun in his left hand, to which the stone person said, “Would you like this package of color film to go with your blue plastic rifle?” The Man of Pure Light replied, “For a camera?,” to which the stoned being said, “Yes, for a camera.” The only consciousness felt by the stoned being before the Pure Light’s observation was, “Yes, Dr. Ten Jamis Fisher, you’ve never had it easy. I guess I have no right to call the Pure Light a fisherman.” The man of lion light shuttered, and looked upon the man of stone and said, "No, I don't need that." Things went on, and then things truly dwindled because the Stone Being could remember his truest father. The man of stone was found honestly coping with special stickers from the time of the shopping cart incident, one of a wizard, and another of a dragon and took them home. Man of Stone stuck them on the same package of film from the realization of that special golden man and put them above the TV, to which he remained with his lovely special stickers for 5.919 years along with his tortured roommate. He found a smaller blue toy gun on one of his city hikes because the Man of Stone could appreciate cement and put it on his Grandmother's Mantle for remembrance. That was during the coinciding years After working many jobs years later, to which parting with roommate Stew, the man of stone said, “I can’t go home,” to which the Pure Light from the blue toy rifle incident opened his apartment window and shouted, “Sorry, you sick ugly toad, but I beg to differ. I'll have the two stickers back.” The stone man said to himself, “I might be one hot rod statue, but even though I don’t have the snap-dragon-wizard-stickers from that dualist time I can still live because I’m choosing to move forward.” After all, I knew a son, ‘Thomas S.’ However, the stone man returned the jaded thought back to himself, ‘I know a Thomas C.,’ and “C” is for Can. The man of stone could never return to the sea to which he loved to surf and decidedly shook violently in his inland closet for 12,003 hours until the pristine painting of 'starry_night,' through V.G.'s impressions was rendered on his bedside table. He looked at the paint christened on the seeping oil canvas and mumbled, “Van Gogh, you truly are the lifter of chains in any mummified court case.” It was only then that the man of stone could prove within his stony complexion that although that man of all Lion-Lights had vanished, the memory and its coldness padding for time in rhythmic geodesic harmony could never. Peaceful times were felt through the plastic world, and reality bespoke the chirps of ever so wistful birds.

                                       Ended by TTH

                                         a~~<+>~~a
                    

                 Written by Thomas Tim Halley aka WZIZEK

Thomas Tim Halley then put his wolf-dragon Wonton Zizek back to guitar practice in the treehouse of his current abode. Musical notes were Felt from most birds in the forest of this special tree.

                                                                                               Fin.

Do you find my story to be sewage or inspiration for a cleaner path?

                                                                                                                           ---- bridge ----