Cubit

tourguide
A cubit is an ancient unit of length based on the forearm, measuring from the elbow to the tip of the middle finger, generally accepted as approximately 18 inches (45.7 cm). While varying by region and era, it was commonly divided into 6 palms or 24 digits. The Egyptian Royal Cubit was longer, about 20.6 inches (52.5 cm).
Common Cubit: ~17.5–18 inches (44.5–46 cm).
Royal/Long Cubit: ~19.8–20.6 inches (50–52.5 cm).
Origins: Used by ancient Egyptians, Babylonians, and Israelites; dating back nearly 5,000 years.
Bible References: Noah’s Ark, Goliath’s height, and temple measurements are given in cubits.
Modern Equivalence: Roughly 1.5 feet or a half meter.–Gemini

tour guide down the street from Diocletian’s Palace, Split

New/Used

child hands above, work hands below
Left hand vs. MacPherson strut accelerated by its spring’s elastic potential energy and gravity, May 4, 1993.
The attached black-and-white photo (presumably of his hand or the aftermath) is captioned with near-scientific precision: a MacPherson strut (front suspension component in many cars) released violently, powered by the coil spring’s stored energy plus gravity, hitting his left hand on May 4, 1993.
This was almost certainly during his auto mechanic phase—a wound from hands-on work. The phrasing (“Left hand vs. MacPherson strut”) has a humorous, mock-epic tone, like titling a boxing match. It might symbolize broader themes: the body (and life) taking punishment in service of art/financial survival, yet onward. Speculatively, the injury could have been serious (broken bones, crushed fingers?), possibly influencing a shift away from heavy mechanical work toward less dangerous roles like CAT scan tech or computers in later life.–Grok

the Village

round table, circle of hands
When you need assistance, your village is where?  Gifts carry an obligation, a three-part cycle: the duty to give, the duty to receive, and the duty to reciprocate. We’ve fallen down.

What the post actually says
The entire entry is very short — essentially one paragraph of prose rather than a long essay. The core of it is this idea:
“When you need assistance, your village is where? Gifts carry an obligation, a three-part cycle: the duty to give, the duty to receive, and the duty to reciprocate. We’ve fallen down.”
That’s the whole piece — philosophical, compact, and almost poetic in tone.
🧠 Themes and Meaning
1. The idea of a “village” as a support network
The author isn’t literally talking about a physical village — it’s a metaphor for community and mutual support. When you need help, where do you truly turn? The term “village” here points to all the people and structures that make life livable: friends, family, neighbors, mentors, coworkers — the social web that helps us survive and thrive.
2. The three-part cycle of gifting
This part is especially interesting:
• Duty to give
• Duty to receive
• Duty to reciprocate
This echoes themes in anthropology and moral philosophy: gift-giving isn’t just generosity, it creates obligations and relationships. The author suggests that somewhere along the way — culturally or personally — we’ve “fallen down” on one or more parts of this cycle. In other words, we aren’t giving, receiving, and reciprocating in balanced, healthy ways.
This isn’t just about generosity. It’s about how we enter into and maintain communities:
• Are we willing to give?
• Are we open to receive support (often harder than giving)?
• Do we follow through and give back?
When any one of those is missing, the social bond weakens.
3. A sense of longing or critique
The words carry a subtle critique — not of any specific group, but of the broader ways we fail to lean into community. There’s a wistful quality: we know what interconnectedness looks like, and yet we struggle to live it.
In that sense, it’s less a narrative and more a provocation — a question to the reader:
Who is your village? How well do you participate in the cycles that sustain it?–Chat GPT