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The ache for
HOME
is in all of us.
The safe place where we can go
as we are and not be questioned.
- Maya Angelou -
Taxi to Dutch estate
Sin rey, ni mazmorras, aunque sí tiene unos fosos bastante grandes... el Castillo de Acher es tal vez la montaña más majestuosa del valle de Echo, en el Pirineo occidental. Esta panorámica está tomada desde la cima del vecino pico Bisaurín.
How can you always be late for your arrival?
You know I'd forgive you every single time
Retreat, retreat, I've fallen at the low tide
Oh, retreat, retreat and meet me by the quayside
In the end all you can hope for
Is the love you felt to equal the pain you've gone through
Are your eyes showing off for mine?
Your face in my hands is everything good I need
The system's put in place, put there to protect us
For you I'd throw a lifeline every time
Oh, retreat, retreat, I've fallen at the low tide
Now retreat, retreat and meet me by the quayside
In the end all you can hope for
Is the love you felt to equal the pain you've gone through
Are your eyes showing off for mine?
Your face in my hands is everything good I need
Bones starved of flesh surround an aching heart
Full of love
Oh, bones, starved of flesh surround your aching heart
Full of love
Bones starved of flesh surround your aching heart
Bones
Oh bones
I watch as your eyes show off for mine
I watch as your eyes show off
I watch as your eyes show off for mine
I watch as your eyes show off
today i review my austria times and great hiking tour along the krimmler falls and ache + today for your fredagsmys entertainment
You watch me bleed until I can't breathe
Shaking, falling onto my knees
And now that I'm without your kisses
I'll be needing stitches
Tripping over myself,
Aching, begging you to come help
And now that I'm without your kisses
I'll be needing stitches.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jnm4UMEQFyc
Location@ Heaven on Earth Rentals# Multiscene skyboxes & apartments
Today marks the one-year anniversary of my best friend's passing. She was a wonderful mother of four and married to my husband's closest friend. She possessed intelligence, beauty, and a remarkable ability to bring laughter to those around her. There was nothing she wouldn't do for those she loved. Her generosity and kind heart were truly inspiring. Each day without her is a reminder of how much she is missed, and the world feels emptier without her presence. I think of her frequently, and on this day, my heart aches for her children who are left behind. She made a positive impact on this world, and her memory will always live on. I love you, Tracy, and I know countless others feel the same way!
We acquired these two turtle doves and one was placed on her memory tree, while the other remains here on our tree. This serves as a beautiful reminder of our friendship, one that we will always cherish.
Day 10 of 25
" Days ache and nights are long
Two years and still, you're not gone
Guess I'm still holding on
Drag my name through the dirt
Somehow it doesn't hurt though
Guess you're still holding on
You told your friends you want me dead
And said that I did everything wrong
And you're not wrong
Well, I'll take all the vitriol
But not the thought of you moving on
'Cause I'm not ready
To find out you know how to forget me
I'd rather hear how much you regret me
And pray to God that you never met me
Than forget me
Oh, I hate to know I made you cry
But love to know I cross your mind, babe, oh, I
Even aftеr all, it'd still wreck me
To find out you'd know how to forget mе
Even after all this time
Days ache and nights are grey
My heart is still your place, babe
Guess I still feel the same
Know you can't stand my face
Some scars you can't erase, babe
Guess you still feel the same
Well, I'll take all the vitriol
But not the thought of you moving on
'Cause I'm not ready
To find out you know how to forget me
I'd rather hear how much you regret me
And pray to God that you never met me
Than forget me
Oh, I hate to know I made you cry
But love to know I cross your mind, babe, oh, I
Even after all, it'd still wreck me
To find out you'd know how to forget me
Even after all this time
I'm not ready to let you forget me
To let you forget me, to let you for—, oh
I'm not ready to let you forget me
To let you forget me, to let you for—, oh (even after all this time)
I'm not ready to let you forget me
To let you forget me, to let you for—, oh
I'm not ready to let you forget me
To let you forget me, to let you for—, oh
'Cause I'm not ready
To find out you know how to forget me
I'd rather hear how much you regret me
And pray to God that you never met me
Than forget me
Oh, I hate to know I made you cry
But love to know I cross your mind, babe, oh, I
Even after all, it'd still wreck me
To find out you'd know how to forget me
Even after all this time ... "
♥ www.youtube.com/watch?v=fR35ILNOiVw ♥
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For an upcoming Substack post, I got the chance to dig into why I fell in love with the Plains. It's been a couple of years since I've been back, and I'm planning a return this summer (if all planets align, so to speak).
But it was nice to revisit the place, even if in old photos and through some words scratched out and spoken. You'll see in a couple of days.
.
.
.
'Ache'
Camera: Mamiya RB67
Film: Ultrafine 400
Process: PMK; 1+2+100; 13mins
Nebraska
July 2023
Dearly Departed Grandpa...
For all the times you kissed my forehead when I cried,
For all the choices you helped me to decide...
For the laughter and smiles you gave me,
For all the teasing and fear you instilled in me...
Like stories of werewolves, hide-behinds and snakes,
haunted houses and vampire stakes.
For all those nights spent wonderfully awake,
from all the candy that gave me a stomach ache...
For being my partner in crime...
Me and you against the world all the time.
You truly were a hero to me,
so thank you Grandpa for leaving a wonderful memory...
I'll cherish each one like they were gold...
From now, forever and when I am old...
© All Rights Reserved 2016 No publication without permission from author
"Guindaste"
Pode não ter muito interesse a foto, mas achei engraçado mostrar alguns equipamentos e registos que se mantiveram no Passeio Ribeirinho.
É de louvar, pois na maioria das câmaras perde-se o rasto do modo de sobrevivência das populações da zona
I don't have many new photos lately. Luckily my archives still contain a lot of unpublished material. But I really should untie myself from the world of duty and dive into the world of playtime. Do I even remember when or where I was taking pictures last time? Hmm...
Recently I've been exploring lots of contemporaty & fim/analogue (and polaroid) images. The more I see the more I fell in love with their concepts, emotions, colours, experimental freedom..Those analogue photographers (and independent contemporary photograhers) do not follow up technical perfection or award-following results like DSLR (or new mirrorless) users do; instead they search for art, for concepts, for stories-they go on undiscovered small paths, instead of highways..The way they create colours, different visions are amazing..It's like diving into a black hole that you do not want to come out..
I also try to understand the ''language'' those artists-photographers are using. they are my guidelines on the path for searching my new voice, my new concept- but I am at the very beginning of this new road- and I need to practice a lot:))
The title refers sort of my search of this new language-my ache of travail for trying to give birth of a new concept. My model Anna did a fantastic job for accomponiying me-sort of we were trying to explore those new era together..
Rápida no gatilho - Eu estava na praia e essa bóia veio voando na minha direção. Achei tão colorida e alegre. Na mesma hora pensei em usar essa foto para desejar aos meus amigos um ano de muitas alegrias.
In the quiet of the night, where shadows mourn
And hollow winds caress the weeping trees,
I linger in the echoes of a love forlorn,
A captive to the pain that never leaves.
You were the phantom touch upon my soul,
A fleeting breath of life that swiftly fades.
Yet in your absence, I am less than whole,
A specter lost in time’s relentless shades.
My heart, a sepulcher of dreams denied,
Entombs the whispered hope that once was bright.
Now, only darkness in these veins resides,
A bleeding wound that festers in the night.
Your name, a curse upon my withered lips,
An echo in the chasm of despair.
I drown in shadows of your fingertips,
Grasping at the emptiness you left there.
Oh, cruel love, that wounds with silent grace,
You carved your name into my bleeding heart.
Yet all I have is this forsaken place,
Where love and loss are never far apart.
-----------------------Death in Love ---------------------
In the shadows where the living dare not tread,
I dwell in endless night, a specter’s grace.
The world beneath my touch turns cold and dead,
Yet in my hollow heart, there is a place
For one who never saw my veiled face.
He, a demon bathed in fleeting light,
Unaware of the gaze that followed near,
Unknowing that I longed to end his night
And claim him for my own, to hold him dear.
But love is foreign to a soul austere.
I wander through the world with scythe in hand,
A harbinger of fate, of final breath.
Yet, what is Death but love misunderstood,
A longing for the end to be our thread?
I’d reap the very stars to see him spread
His mortal arms and whisper my true name.
But he, enraptured by the day’s bright flame,
Would never see the beauty of my dark domain.
Oh, how I envy life, that fragile grace,
The warmth of skin, the beating of the heart.
For just one touch, I’d halt the earth’s embrace,
To stop all time and tear the world apart,
If only for a moment in his arms to start
A dance of shadows in the dying light,
Where he and I could merge as day with night,
Two souls entwined before the endless flight.
But love is not for me, nor fleeting bliss.
I am the end of all that lives and breathes.
Yet in my endless duty, I dismiss
The aching void that my cold heart beneath.
I reap, I take, but never do I keep.
For what is Death but love’s eternal sleep?
And so, I watch him from the dusk’s soft veil,
A silent guardian of his demonic trail.
I long to whisper, yet my words would pale
Against the beauty of his fleeting strife.
For in his mortal pain, I find my knife,
A blade that cuts me deeper than the grave.
Yet still, I yearn, his dark and silent slave,
To feel his love, the one thing I can’t save.
So I shall wait, eternal, ever near,
A shadow in the corner of his eye.
And when his time has come, I’ll draw him near,
With tender hands, beneath the starless sky.
For only then, in Death, will he be mine,
A love that blooms beyond the reach of time.