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Op 10 juni 2018 passeert de Kameel de bossen aan de Panovenlaan in Nijmegen op weg naar Utrecht Maliebaan.
The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.
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Kreative People group "Treat This " challenge #232
Thanks to abstractartangel77 for these source:
www.flickr.com/photos/abstractartangel77/48901973618/
www.flickr.com/photos/abstractartangel77/48901980858/
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A pair of BNSF Geeps shove a tanks and two insulated boxcars down the spur to spot Building 20 in the Spokane Business & Industrial Park. The crew would only spot the tank here and deliver the two boxcars to Building 32, but this spur also receives boxcars. At least five warehouses in the industrial park receive boxcars and they all seem to be a mix of these new Lineage Logistics 60' insulated boxcars and older standard height 60' cars. I don't know if they are all different customers that incidentally get the same type of car, or if it's largely one or two clients that use multiple warehouses. The rail to the right is used to switch out cars it appears but doesn't reach any other active customers. Spokane, WA
Alle 20 Minuten; so oft kam über viele Jhre eine 143 von DB Regio mit x-Wagen auf der Strecke der VRR-Linie S 6 (Essen - Düsseldorf - Köln) durch das Land gerauscht - das ist längst Vergangenheit. 143 849 zieht ihre vier Wagen am Einfahrvorsignal von Ratingen Ost vorbei gen Köln-Nippes. Heute verkehren hier Triebwagen der Baureihe 422.
Nada más bajar del ferry en la parada de Balat, entramos en otro mundo: un laberinto de calles tranquilas, empinadas, salpicadas de casas de vivos colores. En esta calle me topé con un vendedor ambulante, justo frente al carro de la foto. No entendía qué hacía allí, en un lugar donde no pasaba nadie ni pasaría nadie en el resto del día. Me acerqué y, en una mezcla imposible de turco, inglés e italiano, charlamos largo rato. Solo al cabo de quince minutos, como es habitual en Estambul, me dijo: “Compra algo, tengo muchos bambini que alimentar”. Elegí un llavero para mi hija y le tendí un billete de 200 liras, lo más pequeño que tenía (algo menos de cinco euros). Entonces, sin decir palabra, empezó a llenar una bolsa con todo lo que encontraba a mano. Nos despedimos con sonrisas, recordándome todo lo que tenía que visitar en el barrio. Y mientras subía la cuesta del fondo, tuve la sensación de estar saliendo de un sueño.
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As soon as we got off the ferry at the Balat stop, we stepped into another world: a maze of quiet, steep streets, lined with brightly colored houses. On this street, I came across a street vendor, right in front of the cart in the photo. I couldn’t understand what he was doing there, in a place where no one had passed and no one likely would for the rest of the day. I walked over, and in an impossible mix of Turkish, English, and Italian, we chatted for a long while. Only after fifteen minutes—true to Istanbul style—did he say: “Buy something, I have many bambini to feed.” I picked a keychain for my daughter and handed him a 200-lira bill, the smallest I had (a little under five euros). Then, without saying a word, he took back the bag and began filling it with whatever he could grab. We said goodbye with a smile, as he listed all the things I should see in the neighborhood. And as I climbed the hill at the end of the street, I had the feeling I was walking out of a dream.