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Marvellous feathers of rare birds, found by explorers in far away lands of the imagination, now acquired for our collection, catalogued and numbered, they will be displayed in our cabinet of curiosities(=shop) tomorrow.
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Avis is one of those small Alentejo towns where everything works towards perfection.
The narrow cobblestone streets of the citadel, with well-tended houses, bordered with yellow or blue frames, sometimes with ornate tops. Flowers in little pots. A central square with a medieval tower and an unexpected grandiosity in the church, manor houses and official buildings.
And the best of all? All this does not seem staged or artificial. Quite far from mass tourism, Avis is charming in its authenticity.
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Avis é uma daquelas pequenas vilas alentejanas em que tudo parece conjugar-se para a perfeição.
As ruas empedradas da cidadela, pacatas, de casas muito bem cuidadas, debruadas a amarelo ou azul, por vezes com decorações no topo. Flores em vasos. Uma praça principal com a torre medieval e uma imponência inesperada na igreja, palacetes e edifícios oficiais.
E o melhor? Toda esta beleza não parece minimamente artificial. Longe do turismo de massas, Avis é assim. Bela na sua autenticidade.
Avis is one of those small Alentejo towns where everything works towards perfection.
The narrow cobblestone streets of the citadel, with well-tended houses, bordered with yellow or blue frames, sometimes with ornate tops. Flowers in little pots. A central square with a medieval tower and an unexpected grandiosity in the church, manor houses and official buildings.
And the best of all? All this does not seem staged or artificial. Quite far from mass tourism, Avis is charming in its authenticity.
*
Avis é uma daquelas pequenas vilas alentejanas em que tudo parece conjugar-se para a perfeição.
As ruas empedradas da cidadela, pacatas, de casas muito bem cuidadas, debruadas a amarelo ou azul, por vezes com decorações no topo. Flores em vasos. Uma praça principal com a torre medieval e uma imponência inesperada na igreja, palacetes e edifícios oficiais.
E o melhor? Toda esta beleza não parece minimamente artificial. Longe do turismo de massas, Avis é assim. Bela na sua autenticidade.
©2024 Giovanni Contarelli
Immagine realizzata per la campagna di sensibilizzazione di AVIS
Image created for the AVIS blood donor awareness campaign
Daphne cried out to the River God ...
"Change and dissolve this body which has given too much delight"
........... " Her limbs grew numb and heavy, her soft breasts were closed with delicate bark, her hair was leaves,... Her arms were branches, her speedy feet rooted and held, and her head became a tree top, ........................ Apollo loved her still, he felt the heart still beating under the bark, ....... He embraced the branches as if they were
still limbs, his lips kissed the wood ......"
--- from the tale of Apollo and Daphne, in the great "Metamorphosis" of Ovid, 1st century AD
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The watchful eyes of a Dryad (a tree spirit) staring out at me from the imprisoning ice of the Kluane River.
Dog tired from hiking, I sat down to rest amid a tangle of driftwood embedded in the river ice, and was actually a bit alarmed to see this creature staring at me.
( Knotholes naturally filled in with snow, with the centers partially thawed to ice, creating a perfect illusion of staring eyes ... )
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– Mais qu’est-ce que t’as encore à bouder ?! On n’est pas bien, là, à la montagne ?
Tu voulais de l’espace pour jouer, t’en as !
Tu voulais des coins pour te cacher, t’en as !
Tu voulais de l’air pur, t’en as !
– Oui, mais zustement, tu vas me voir tout de suite : z’arriverai zamais à aller zusqu’à une cachette.
– Pfff, t’avais qu’à pas te mettre en rouge aussi !!
– ……. ☹️
– Bon, ok !! On reviendra cette nuit ! Comme ça, même en rouge, je ne te verrai pas et t’auras le temps de te cacher.
– Ouaiiiiis !!!!
– Et on pourra aussi s’amuser à compter les étoiles.
– Youpiiiiii !!
T’es la meilleure !
– Ben ouais, je sais…
EXPLORE # 11
Pra que lado sopra o vento?
Importa saber?
Sei apenas
Que sopra em meu rosto.
É uma brisa,
arejado frescor
de orquídea em flor
não posso mudar
o sentido do amor
que pulsa em meu peito
em todos os pulsos
de minhas veias
e me dão impulso
pra rasgar as teias.
E eu gosto
desse gosto
de agosto
em outubro, novembro, fevereiro
o ano todo resumido
num só momento,
por inteiro.
Helio Jenné
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A orquídea pela sua anatomia,.... beleza fatal.... delicadeza e sensualidade...
é considerada a mais feminina das flores......!!!
I was riding in a car somewhere between Reno and Tahoe when we drove around a curve and this scene pierced its way through the winshield and my sunglasses. I begged the driver to pull over which she was able to do about a half mile futher up the road, and I ran back with my camera and tripod. I put a polarizer on the lens to simulate the tint of the windshield, but it still didn't look right. Then I held my sunglasses in front of the lens as well and captured this image.