View allAll Photos Tagged ArtisticPortraits,
When the aliens returned to their planet of origin, they began manufacturing their own human flesh.
Al the objects are taken with NICON and put together in Bruce.
Champion in classic Italian fencing, educated in Italy.
Born today 53 years ago, died 2 years ago of heart attack, still incomprehensible.
She spoke to no one,
yet the trees leaned in—
each step a secret,
each glance a hymn.
In the hush of moss and memory,
the forest listened.
model: vanessa nazareno
the shadows played their game. lines of light stretching along the plaza mayor. she looked over, half-hidden, half-daring. no flashes, no tricks. just vanessa, a corner, and the sun's silent choreography.
palma de mallorca, plaza mayor
Fun to play with old portraits, here one of Eldir which is as beautiful today as when I took the picture 15 years ago.
Thor (from Old Norse: Þórr) is a prominent god in Germanic paganism. In Norse mythology, he is a hammer-wielding god associated with lightning, thunder, storms, sacred groves and trees, strength, the protection of humankind, hallowing, and fertility. Besides Old Norse Þórr, the deity occurs in Old English as Þunor, in Old Frisian as Thuner, in Old Saxon as Thunar, and in Old High German as Donar, all ultimately stemming from the Proto-Germanic theonym *Þun(a)raz, meaning 'Thunder'.
Ozzy. À l’homme derrière le mythe.
Celui qui a bercé mon adolescence.
J’ai choisi cette chanson, Mama I’m Coming Home,
Parce que pour moi, elle ne crie pas,
elle avoue.
C’était sa voix, mais c’est son cœur qu’on entend.
Celui qui a aimé malgré le rejet.
Celui qui a pardonné sans qu’on lui demande.
Celui qui est resté debout, même tordu, même flingué.
Je me revois adolescente.
Mes parents me poussaient, encourageaient, protégeaient.
Ils ne comprenaient pas pourquoi je t’aimais toi, Ozzy,
ce “fou”, ce “toxico”, ce “dingue à lunettes noires”,
comme ils disaient à l’époque.
Mais moi, je voyais clair.
Je voyais un homme sincère dans un monde maquillé.
Quelques années plus tard,
même mon père l’a compris. ❤️
Parce que la vérité, quand elle est dite comme il la disait,
finit toujours par percer.
Certains diront peut-être :
Pourquoi cette chanson ? Elle ne le mérite pas.
Mais je ne l’ai pas choisie pour elle.
Je l’ai choisie pour lui.
Parce que cette chanson parle du pardon qu’on donne sans condition.
Du retour vers ce qui nous a blessés,
mais qu’on n’a jamais cessé d’aimer.
Et c’était ça, Ozzy.
C’est ça, l’homme que j’admirais.
Ce portrait, c’est le sien. Pour lui.
Ce cri retenu, c’est le mien.
Et cette chanson,
c’est ce qu’il aurait chanté à nous tous en partant,
sans hurler, sans grimace,
juste… humain.
Hommage à un homme vrai. ❤️💔🙏
_____________________________
Ozzy. To the man behind the myth.
The one who carried my teenage years.
I chose this song, Mama I’m Coming Home,
because to me it doesn’t scream,
it confesses.
It was his voice, but it’s his heart we hear.
The heart that loved despite rejection.
The heart that forgave without being asked.
The heart that stayed standing, even twisted, even broken.
I see myself as a teenager again.
My parents supported me, pushed me, protected me.
They couldn’t understand why I loved you, Ozzy.
That “crazy one”, that “junkie”, that “madman with black sunglasses”,
as they used to say back then.
But I saw clearly.
I saw a sincere man in a world full of masks.
Years later, even my father understood. ❤️
Because truth, when spoken the way he did,
always finds its way through.
Some might say.
“Why this song? She doesn’t deserve it.”
But I didn’t choose it for her.
I chose it for him.
Because this song speaks of unconditional forgiveness.
Of coming back to what hurt us,
but that we never stopped loving.
And that was Ozzy.
That’s the man I admired.
This portrait is his. For him.
This silent cry is mine.
And this song,
is what he would have sung to all of us, as he left.
No screams. No show.
Just… human.
A tribute to a true man. ❤️💔🙏
behind the glass, kenneth b. drifts between shadow and glow, his presence softened by the dance of light and blur. the embroidered lines of his shirt seem to echo the unseen music, while his gaze cuts through the haze with quiet intensity. a portrait where sound becomes visible, and reflection turns into melody.
For more than fifty years we have lived deep in the forest with a couple of kilometers to the nearest neighbor, then it is good to have something to scare intruders with.