#Xavier Zimbardo

[ortodelmondo]

Xavier Zimbardo : Holi

[elegant-artist]

© Xavier Zimbardo

[fashionarte]

Holi, 1993

Xavier Zimbardo

[freewithyourtempo]

Argue me tender, argue me true (pt. 4)

part 1 part 2 part 3

The lovely people who asked to be tagged @youarerageandserenity, @why-cant-people-just-think, @auri-moon, @starkqnthony, @starkxavier

Charles stopped, turned and stared.

The girl that was walking behind him almost dropped her tray in a poor attempt at dodging him. His abrupt change of route created a small pile-up in the cafeteria and quite a few complaints. 

“What,” he said, “the hell?”

Lehnsherr put his chin on his hand and raised an eyebrow. “What hell?”

Charles stomped towards his group and slammed his half-empty tray on their table. “You cannot seriously be relying on Stanford’s experiment to sustain your ridiculous ideas about human behavior!”

Lehnsherr smirked slowly, more satisfied with every tooth uncovered. “Were you eavesdropping?”

“I do not eavesdrop,” exclaimed Charles, indignant. “It seems I automatically tune in your nonsense, that’s all.”

“Oh, if a scientific experiment doesn’t give the results you want it suddenly becomes nonsense, doesn’t it? Not very empiric of you, Xavier.”

Charles felt his own face crumple up. “Angel, be a dear and move on over, please. Thank you very much.”

He sat down right in front of Lehnsherr and puffed out his chest, ready to begin. “First of all, don’t you dare question my scientific approach, you maniac. Tons of psychologists have stated that that ‘experiment’ was biased and it has been proven time and time again that Zimbardo lied in his report about what actually happened there. He didn’t even publish his results in a scientific journal!”

He inhaled. 

He could pinpoint the exact moment when Lehnsherr decided that that was a conversation worth having, because his eyes twinkled as he leaned forward and quickly shot back. “Haslam and Reicher replicated that experiment and obtained the same violent outcomes.”

“Not the same. The participants themselves admitted that their conduct was a performance influenced by Zimbardo and designed to obtain those results.”

“We know for certain that two of them didn’t act of their own free-will, but what about the other twenty-two participants?”

“Oh,” Charles commented, leaning against the seatback with his arms folded smugly. “That sounds scientific alright.”

Lehnsherr smiled at him, then, lower lip trapped under front teeth, and Charles felt as if someone had pushed him off the chair. The skin of his hands itched, and he had to repress the sudden urge to grab that face and claim that mouth.

“Please,” Sean’s weak voice came from the other side of the table, startling both of them. They attended History together, which meant he had witnessed a few dozens of those arguments. “Don’t you ever flirt in front of me. This is too much already.”

Charles frowned and Lehnsherr opened his mouth, but before any of them could actually reply, an exasperated chorus rose from the other students at that table. “They already are.”

It might have had something to do with the adrenaline of the argument clouding his judgment - it wasn’t his fault, it was like a drug to Charles -, but when Lehnsherr turned his head to stare at him with those eyes of his wide open and his cheekbones flagging red, Charles’ mouth moved on its own accord. 

“I assure you,” he enunciated clearly, his own eyes never leaving Lehnsherr’s. “If I were flirting with him, he would notice.”

He then proceeded to wink at Lehnsherr’s stumped expression, steal a fry from his plate and leave. His departure was accompanied by catcalls. 

Oh, he did love winning an argument.

Charles woke up abruptly when someone touched his arm.

He instinctively unleashed his telepathy to scan his surroundings, but it slammed against his head. He whined. Bloody collar. 

“Wakey wakey.”

Charles slowly blinked and lifted his head from his crossed arms. His back cracked. “Lehnsherr?”

He was half lying on the table, his head propped up on his fist. Charles noticed that his long torso covered the whole distance between them. A smiling flap of uncovered flank stared back at him. “I wish I could say that you drool in your sleep.” Lehnsherr was unjustifiably disgruntled. 

Charles looked away and saw his notes spread all over the table, then understood: he had fallen asleep while studying in the now deserted library. Around them, the lights were going off one after another. 

Charles rubbed his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Past midnight,” Lehnsherr said, and stood up. “I was leaving when I saw you here. We’d better go before they close the doors.”

He was noticeably tired, his hair in disarray and the hem of his t-shirt crumpled. His later-than-five o’clock shadow glided on his jaw and across his long neck. 

Charles thought he looked like the lead of a romantic comedy the morning after. He self-consciously carded his fingers through his own hair and cleared his throat. “Thank you, but I can’t. I need to finish these physic… Exercises.”

He blinked at the papers and dragged them across the table with two fingers. At the bottom, there was a circled number in a handwriting that wasn’t his.

He lifted his eyes and saw Lehnsherr scratching the back of his neck and looking away. His cheeks were turning red. “You had only made a calculation error,” Lehnsherr shrugged, as if it explained everything. 

Charles felt his heart flutter. “I don’t know how to thank you, my friend. You didn’t have to.”

“It was no problem, really. Besides,” Lehnsherr smirked and became more self-possessed. “Who knows how long it would have taken you to solve these. You need to be as awake as possible to Candide your way out of my reasoning.”       

Charles barked a surprised laugh, already half in love. “Have you really just used Voltaire to mock me. And past midnight?”

Lehnsherr didn’t answer, but smiled and collected his books. He looked at him one last time and moved towards the exit. “Goodnight, Pangloss.”

“Sleep well, Martin.” 

I apologize if this part is a bit… nerdish. If anyone is interested in what Charles and Erik are bickering about, here’s Stanford Prison Experiment (better known as “The Lucifer Effect”) , and here’s Candide. (In the book, Pangloss is an optimist and Martin is a pessimist. Philosophically speaking). 

[tanyushenka]

Photography: A standing nomadic woman dressed in traditional clothing prepares bread cooked under hot stones with an open log fire in Atlas Mountains, Morocco, 2005. Photographer: Xavier Zimbardo

[mediaartsdesignlibrarian]

Angles of Ghost Street by Xavier Zimbardo

The story and visionary concept of Dr Pathak to change the lives of widows in India, and a testimony to the strong will of an empathetic individual who changed the situation of a whole group of society for the better.

[isaluciole]

Xavier Zimbardo Holly India

[indra-ozora]

HOLI Festival

[sakof]

xavier zimbardo

[fashionarte]

Holi, 2009

Xavier Zimbardo

[daredge]

the faces of the monks of dust had been disfigured by the brutal impression of time passing by but perhaps dawning out of this ultimate dustfall setting on their fading faces was the essential face of love for which they had burned until their dying breath

xavier zimbardo on the monks of dust daguerreotypes of mount athos xavierzimbardo.com

[tanyushenka]

Photography: Atlas Mountains, Morocco, 2007 Photographer: Xavier Zimbardo

[festival-of-colors-holi-nyc]

Holi in India -- by Xavier Zimbardo

[charbonneuse]

[faredisfare-blog]

Xavier Zimbardo, Senegal

[artknowledge-blog]

Xavier Zimbardo - Holi_ihs128_02