Fragmento de: Tu nombre, poesía

Autor: Gilberto Owen

Y hallar al fin, exangüe y desolado,

descubrir que es en mí donde tú estabas,

porque tú estás en todas partes

y no sólo en el cielo donde yo te he buscado,

que eres tú, que no yo, tuya y no mía,

la voz que se desangra por mis llagas.

/

Fragment of: Your name, poetry

Author: Gilberto Owen

And find at last, bloodless and desolate,

discover what is in me where you were,

because you are everywhere

and not only in heaven where I have sought you,

that it is you, that not me, yours and not mine,

the voice that bleeds for my wounds.

"Maruyama Ōkyo opened his eyes from a fitful sleep and saw a dead woman. She was young. Beautiful. And pale. Unnaturally drained of color, her bloodless skin peeked from her loose, bone-white burial kimono. Her bleached appearance was contrasted only by the thin slits of her black eyes, and by the long, black hair that hung disheveled across her shoulders."

(from "Yurei: The Japanese Ghost" by Zack Davisson)

('Yurei-Zu' by Figma / Max Factory / "The Table Museum" series)

NOTE: "The Ghost of Oyuki" (お雪の幻, Oyuki no maboroshi) is a painting of a female yūrei (a traditional Japanese ghost) by Maruyama Ōkyo (1733–1795)

The road along the Lahore canal, from the Mall to Jail Road, was named after Goethe; but the road across the canal was dedicated to Annemarie Schimmel. The twin roads are a befitting symbol of Pakistan’s special relationship with Germany created by Pakistan’s national poet during his academic sojourn there in the beginning of the 20th century. Schimmel used to say, laughingly: “Pakistan didn’t even wait for me to die before naming a road after me.”

The first disciple of Rumi in our times was Allama Iqbal. In his Persian magnum opus “Javidnamah,” Rumi was his Virgil. Annemarie Schimmel, the greatest living authority on Islamic culture and civilization who passed away in February, loved Iqbal and Rumi with equal intensity.

When she came to Lahore in 1996 to deliver a lecture on “Islam and the West” at the Goethe Institute, she was hardly in her room at Hotel Avari for 10 minutes when the phone bell rang and someone requested her for a meeting. She said she was booked for every hour of the day until June 1997, which included her Iqbal Lecture in London.

She had delivered a lecture on Rahman Baba in Peshawar in Pashtu, which, together with Sindhi, she thought more difficult than her first love, Turkish. (Linguists are agreed that Turkish is one of the most difficult languages to learn.) She loved Sindh, admired its intellectuals, tolerant culture, and its great poet Shah Abdul Latif on whom she wrote a book. She remembered fondly Sindh’s foremost intellectual, Allama I. I. Kazi and his disciple Pir Hisamuddin Rashdi, and visited the Makli tombs many times. Sitting in a café in Bonn once, journalist Tony Rosini told me in a whisper that she wanted to be buried at Makli.

In 1982, she had requested the government of Pakistan to name a road after Goethe, the German national poet that Iqbal admired, on the occasion of his 150th birth anniversary. But Pakistan went one better. The road along the Lahore canal, from the Mall to Jail Road, was named after Goethe; but the road across the canal was dedicated to Annemarie Schimmel. She was in her mid eighties, in good health, with a mind whose clarity was astounding.

She was recognized by the Islamic world for her knowledge of Islamic civilization. When she went to Egypt lecturing in Arabic about classical Arab poetry, she was received by President Hosni Mubarak. She lectured in Yemen, Syria and Morocco, talking about a heritage that most Arabs have forgotten. In Tunis, she introduced the revivalist thought of Allama Iqbal; in Teheran, she spoke in Persian about the love of the Holy Prophet (PBUH) in Rumi, disabusing today’s revolutionary Islamists of the misconceptions made current about the great Sufis of the past. She was in Uzbekistan talking to the Uzbeks about their great Muslim heritage. “If an Uzbek speaks slowly I can understand him, and I can answer in Osmanli,” she used to say.

Her first love was Pakistan and Pakistan responded to her in equal measure. She fondly remembered the President of the National Bank of Pakistan, Mumtaz Hassan, the great teacher of philosophy M. M. Sharif, the historian S. M. Ikram, the scholar Khalifa Abdul Hakim and Pir Hisamuddin Rashdi, who welcomed her again and again to Pakistan when she was young. She recalled her Urdu lecture on Iqbal in Government College Lahore in 1963 on the invitation of Bazm-e-Iqbal. Befittingly, Allama Iqbal’s son, Dr. Javid Iqbal, is a devotee who often visited her at her residence on Lennestrasse in Bonn. When national awards were set up, she received the highest of them, Hilal-e-Imtiaz and Sitara-e-Quaid-e-Azam.

She was so completely at ease with her subject that she hardly realized that she was working so hard, teaching at Bonn University since 1961, and at Harvard University since 1970. The Islamic world did not ignore her work. She received the First Class Award for Art and Science from Egypt’s president Hosni Mubarak, and a Gold Medal from Turkey for her services to Turkish cultural heritage. Austria gave her the prestigious Hammar-Purgstall prize; Los Angeles had given her the Della Vida award for Excellence in Islamic Studies; Germany bestowed upon her the famous Ruecart Medal and Voss Medal for Translation; and the Union of German Publishers recently gave her their highest Peace Prize which she treasured. There are many other German awards that celebrated her work in the promotion of understanding between religions.

Annemarie Schimmel was born in Erfurt, a town that fell to East Germany after the Second World War, in the family of a civil servant who greatly loved poetry and philosophy. She recalled reading the German classics at home, including the poetry of Rilke. Her interest in the Orient grew out of the classical trend of treating oriental themes in German poetry and drama. When she was seven, her parents already knew she was a special child on whom normal laws of upbringing couldn’t be applied. At 15, she was able to get hold of a teacher of Arabic who had a taste in Arabic classical poetry. Her second love was Turkish which she learned before she went to the university.

Her subject led her to Persian, which she learned enough to be smitten by the poetry of Rumi. She regretted that she didn’t learn English well since she was busy passing two classes in a term. (She was an extremely articulate speaker in English.) One is not surprised that when she finally finished her doctorate, she was only 19, a German record at a time when women were not encouraged in higher learning. (She once remarked that the bias still existed because she was not given a chair at the University of Bonn.) The topic of her Ph.D. dissertation was “Position of Caliph and Qazi in Mameluke Egypt.” She recalled that her father was killed four days before the war came to an end, and while she studied, she had to do six months of forced labour and work six days a week in a factory. After the war, she went to West Germany, interpreting and translating in Turkish for the Foreign Office and working on her thesis for teaching. Marburg University took her in as a professor of Arabic, Persian, Turkish, history of Islamic art and religion after her graduation when she was only 23!

In 1949, she did another Ph.D. in history of religions and went to Sweden to pursue theological and oriental studies for two months. In 1952, she was able to travel in Turkey, keen to visit Konia where her “murshid” Jalauddin Rumi lay buried. She said that Konia was a sleepy little town where the genius of Rumi was easily invoked. In 1953, she was again at Ankara University lecturing on Islamic art and religion in Turkish. The university offered her, a non-Muslim, the chair of history of religion and she stayed there for five years, writing her books in Turkish, including a Turkish version of Allama Iqbal’s “Javidnamah.” She had written hundreds of books and papers as far apart in subject matter as the mystery of numbers in Arabic, Arabic Names and Persian Sufi poet Qurat-ul-Ain Tahira who she called the first Muslim feminist. Her first book to be known in Pakistan was “Gabriel’s Wing” but it was published in Holland and was not properly distributed in Pakistan.

It is surprising that Pakistani publishers have not tried to get the publishing rights of her great books like “Islam in the Indian Subcontinent” printed 20 years ago, and others like “Deciphering the Science of God” and “Mystery of Numbers” and “Gifford Lectures on Islam.” She translated hundreds of Islamic classics, as is manifest from the awards she received. Her work in German will probably take a long time in reaching the international audience (for instance her beautifully produced work on imagery in Persian poetry), but what she published in English is lying with such obscure publishers in Europe and the United States that it has no way of reaching the Pakistani market.

She remained a recluse in matters of publishing; her publishers seldom wrote to her because of bad marketing. “I don’t care that I haven’t made money from my books; I have enough to live on,” she used to say thoughtfully. Her house in Lennestrasse was full of rare manuscripts on Islam but she gradually began to give them away to institutions, like Bonn University, as she thought they would take care of them and make good use of them.

Annemarie Schimmel was not into the politics of orientology as most of us who are busy thinking about civilizational conflict are inclined to think. While she considered Edward Said’s critique of Western orientalism justified, she believed it was misapplied to German and Russian orientology. Her interest in Islam sprang from her great reverence for its intellectual and spiritual genius. She was a “practicing” scholar who admired Massignon and was deeply involved in the philosophical aspects of the religion of Islam. She believed that Iqbal was the only Muslim genius who responded intellectually to Goethe’s “West-Eastern Divan.” She was the only western intellectual who responded to the true spirit of Islam. Her poems in German and English were published in two volumes and proved that her interest was not merely restricted to bloodless research. She was of no use to those who study a religion only to find fault with it. She has passed away but her work on and love for Islam will continue to illuminate the true path.

30 May 2003

Of course I would pick the coldest day so far of the year to do a picture soaking wet outside. you guys, sometimes i wonder at my decision making skills.

texture

tumblr | facebook

Bhagavad Gita 16 chapter

«There are two kinds of creatures in this world. Some are called divine, while others are called demonic ... Fearlessness, purification of one’s existence, development of spiritual knowledge, charity, self-control, sacrifice (bloodless), study of the Vedas, temperance, simplicity, non-use of violence, truthfulness, independence from anger, self-denial, peace , unwillingness to seek imperfections in others, compassion for all living beings, independence from greed, kindness, modesty, steadfast determination, activity, forgiveness, fortitude, purity, freedom from envy and aspirations Knowledge to glory - all these spiritual qualities are inherent in righteous people endowed with divine nature.

Pride, arrogance, vanity, anger, rudeness and ignorance - these qualities are inherent in those who have a demonic nature.

They have neither purity, nor worthy behavior, nor truth. They claim that the world arose from carnal desire and that it has no other reason than lust. As a result of such conclusions, all the activities of demonic creatures are aimed at destroying the world. Absorbed in false prestige, constantly being in the troubles, demons engage in unclean activities, attracted and attracted by the transient. They believe that to satisfy feelings is the first necessity of civilization, its highest goal. Until the end of their lives, their anxieties are immeasurable: entangled in a network of hundreds of thousands of desires, earning money in unrighteous ways, constantly being worried and worried, entangled in networks of delusions, they acquire an all-consuming attachment to sensual pleasures and go to hell ...

The three gates open the way to hell: lust, anger and greed. Every rational person should abandon them, as they lead to oppression of the soul. A person who has escaped these three gates of the underworld, performs actions leading to self-fulfillment, gradually achieving a higher goal. He who rejects the data in the scriptures of instruction and acts on his own whim, he will not be able to achieve neither perfection, nor happiness, nor the highest goal. Therefore, a person should understand, based on the instructions of the Vedas, what his duty consists of and what is not.»

youtu.be/QmJj2-AVj5Q

Bloodless.

(I went to a festival. Idunno idunno. Didn't feel like I belonged there at that moment I guess.)

Tras una incruenta batalla durante la toma, de las tropas del Cid, del castillo de Tiedra, atardece sobre la ermita de Nuestra Señora de Tiedra la Vieja. En la batalla no hubo muertos, sino mucha juerga y posteriores agujetas.

After a bloodless battle during the capture, of the troops of the Cid, of Tiedra's castle, the Old woman gets dark on the hermitage of Our Lady of Tiedra. In the battle he(she) had not died, but many partyng and later shoe-laces.

Фото 2 . Пейзаж с лосями которые ушли.

см фото1

**Охота на лося**

Я отправился в лес на фотоохоту, надеясь запечатлеть величественного лося. Долго бродил по следам, ощущая запах зверя ,влажной земли и хвои, но лось не появлялся. Два часа безрезультатных поисков , лишь тишина леса и шуршания листвы от моих шагов.

Следы вели дальше вдоль ручья и неожиданно, на поляне вдалеке, я заметил лосиху и её лосенка, стремительно убегающих через лес. В голове пронеслась мысль: «Вот она, моя удача!». Побежал за ними, камера в руках готова к действию. Но, сделав несколько шагов и неудачный снимок беглецов , что-то заставило замереть.

Передо мной раскрылся удивительный пейзаж: небо пылало оранжевыми оттенками, а все вокруг как будто замерло в ожидании ночи. Забыв о погоне, начал снимать закат ,который никогда не повторится.

Лоси стали невольными проводниками к растворенной в этом вечере Красоте.

Я понял что охота за снимком — это не только планирование, но и способность быть открытым для спонтанности. Нужно слушать внутренний голос, уметь останавливаться и ценить момент. Этот закат стал для меня желанным и бескровным трофеем . Особо благодарен величественным животным- Лосям .

Photo 2 . Landscape with the elk that got away.

see photo 1

I went on a photo hunt in the forest, hoping to capture the majestic moose. For a long time I wandered along the tracks, smelling the scent of the animal, wet earth and pine needles, but the moose did not appear. Two hours of fruitless search, only silence of the forest and rustling of leaves from my footsteps.

Tracks led further along the creek and suddenly, in a clearing in the distance, I noticed a moose and her moose cub, rapidly running away through the forest. The thought flashed through my mind: "Here it is, my luck!". I ran after them, camera in hand ready for action. But after a few steps and an unsuccessful shot of the fugitives, something made me freeze.

A wonderful landscape opened before me: the sky was ablaze with orange hues, and everything around seemed to be frozen in anticipation of night. Forgetting about the chase, I started shooting the sunset, which would never be repeated.

Moose became unwitting guides to the Beauty dissolved in this evening.

I realised that hunting for a shot is not only about planning, but also about being open to spontaneity. You have to listen to your inner voice, be able to stop and appreciate the moment. This sunset was a welcome and bloodless trophy for me . I am especially grateful to the majestic animals - Elk.

0 views

0 faves

0 comments

Uploaded on January 28, 2025

Taken on January 22, 2025

We've been away on a quick road trip to Atlantic Canada for an overdue family visit and with 4400 km of driving over two weeks, there wasn't much time with a camera in hand. Along the way we did an overnight in Edmunston, New Brunswick, and although it's more of an industrial town, we did come across this interesting blockhouse before settling in for the night.

Built in 1841 on a rocky outcrop where the Madawaska and the St. John River meet, this small fort overlooking the City of Edmundston was part of the British defensive line during the boundary dispute between England and the United States. That conflict, known as the “Aroostook Bloodless War,” ended in 1842 when the Ashburton-Webster Treaty was signed. Destroyed by lightning in 1855, the blockhouse was rebuilt in 2000 in accordance with original specifications.

PS: This location is not in Maine, as the Flickr map seems to think.

Despite their proximity to the west coast of Africa these islands were apparently entirely uninhabited when Portuguese navigators João de Santarém and Pero Escobar arrived on Saint Thomas’s day the 21st of December 1470. The Portuguese quickly settled the islands and were soon importing slaves from the mainland to work in their newly established sugar plantations. The sugar produced here was of poor quality compared to that from elsewhere and from the beginning of the 19th century was replaced with coffee, this crop was in turn largely replaced by cocoa. Slavery in the islands’ plantations or roças carried on until 1875 when it was abolished and replaced with a system of contract labour this did not significantly improve the lives of the island’s labour force and the Portuguese continued to import labourers from their mainland colonies. At the beginning of the 20th century the plight of the plantation workers reached the outside world, protests from the Aboriginal Protection Society and the Anti-Slavery Society, prompted William Cadbury to send an agent to the islands to investigate. Possibly to protect his company's own commercial interests and to allow time for them to establish their own plantations in the Gold Coast (Ghana), he chose not to act for some years until after he visited the Islands in 1909 to see for himself. Cadburys and other chocolate companies then started a boycott of Cocoa from the Islands. However, little changed for the plantation workers who remained as virtual slaves.

In 1953 descendents of former slaves known as Forros, fearing they would be conscripted and forced to work on the plantations protested at Batepa, Portuguese troops attacked the protesters and in the massacre that followed over 1,000 Forros may have been killed. This event sparked the establishment of a liberation movement, however, despite the Batepa Massacre, unlike in Portugal’s mainland colonies there was no war for independence. Following Portugal’s bloodless Carnation Revolution in 1974, the islands demanded their independence and this was granted the following year.

Although STP's independence had been achieved peacefully the Portuguese plantation owners fled, abandoning their plantations and the islands. Soon afterwards the roças were nationalised by STP’s new Marxist government, many of them fell in to disrepair during this period.

The entrance to the roca no longer looks quite like this, since my visit (in 2008) it has become the Roca Belo Monte Hotel. As part of the renovations the gates and the wall have been painted a nice shade of cream. I've no doubt the new owners felt they had to do this but looking at the photos on their website I feel they've taken away some of the character of the place.

The Phantom, which held its bloodless hand above him ... advanced its eyes so close to his, that he could now see how they did not participate in the terrible smile upon its face, but were fixed, unalterable, and steady in horror.

~Dickens - 1848

A more indigenous genre of bullfighting is widely common in the Provence and Languedoc areas, and is known alternately as "course libre" or "course camarguaise". This is a bloodless spectacle (for the bulls) in which the objective is to snatch a rosette from the head of a young bull. The participants, or raseteurs, begin training in their early teens against young bulls from the Camargue region of Provence before graduating to regular contests held principally in Arles and Nîmes but also in other Provençal and Languedoc towns and villages.

Pale not bloodless...

Europe, Portugal, Lisboa, Marques De Pombal square, Dia de Repubiica - Demostrações Militares, F16, People (uncut)

While walking through the Eduardo VII park in downtown Lisbon, we encountered the Orquestra Leigeira do Exército (the Big Band of the Portuguese national army). The members of the band were practicing in their civvies for the June 10 show (June 10 is thé Portuguese national holiday - the 'Dia de Republica').

Behind the stage the 'Dia de Republica' military static show was going on. In Portugal the relations between the public and the army are warm. Probably because it was the army, particular the Movimento das Forças Armadas; the Armed Forces Movement (here), that restored democracy in Portugal through the bloodless carnation revolution here, after the many dark and austere years of authoritarian rule of the dictators Salazar and Caetano

This is number two of a series of shots for my Lisboa & Outra banda album here. In this new mini series I am exploring big scale cultural activities that imho are closely tied in with the Portuguese (urban) identity.

model: Renee

MUA: Molly Chopin

A repetitious blur, not infinite, but unfathomably finite.

Not really sure why I have such an obsession with shopping carts, ugly buildings or cracked asphalt. But every line seems like a vein, bloodless and devoid of its original intent. A sprawling mirage of structure, desperately waiting to come apart.

Shopping carts, ever present from the time of my youth and what feels like was eons before that. A tumbleweed of chromed steel effortlessly gliding across concrete in a high late summer wind, crashing into a car door, is the only time that fucker will ever head in a straight line. Maybe it’s a symbol of the great American capitalist boom, you know those short years tucked in between an emerging recession and “four more years”, but the regime never changes. And no matter what people need something to eat, something to wear, something to watch, and something to watch in on.

I used to see far more shopping carts, when there were far more stores, and malls too. The image I have in mind, a representation given to someplace once real, will be something different shortly, maybe it will be the click of a button and delivery truck, but it’s pretty much the same thing, just not visually.

The same can be said for ugly buildings, especially the ones purpose built or franchised, that lay to waste or are repurposed then, once again laid to waste, these buildings have a tremble in their structure, a slow undetectable sway, a surging ache, brought on by every change of the weather, and every season compounds this, all buildings fear the rain, the cold and the snow. Oh these poor high western desert creatures of failing and crumbling foundations.

Cracked asphalt and roads, the great animal strategy of to and fro, a primal migration that became the great flow of commerce. Signs of a road can stay for a long, long time, that big heavy rut, but roads need a constant and a consistent maintenance, yet they still crack and long to go wayward.

Sadly, due to the poor weather in early Dec, the Bloodless Bullfights were canceled. I may try to get down there for the last event of the season, otherwise, I'll have to wait until next year.

Open-air exhibition of photos by Bence Máté

www.youtube.com/watch?v=vm2cqphBWYc

Stoned I awoke in your temple

To blackness above you

And death beside me

Where kitchen knives conspire

Razor blades make bloodless love

Like Murder

The ghost of a pale girl is solemnly following me

Pale will she follow me into the sea

I feel the flowers screaming

To consume you

Like Murder

Earth and sky your cradle

Earth and sky entomb you

And death beside me

I burrow through the dust in your skull

But I cannot seem to find your soul

Bloodless and numb

We orbit the sun

Hungry will this pale thing

Follow me into the sea

On the cold side of her face

The reptiles awake

Locust swarm from open mouths

That sing thy kingdom come

While blackness hums

Nothing is true

And I'm tired of your sad today

You're screaming because

There's nothing left for you to say

The Baron was satisfied to see his subordinate still alive. “You have proven a good choice and solider. Defeating a vampire is no easy feat.”

“I trusted my gut and remembered your training sir.” He was out of breath but had done well in making it through the fight.

The Baron looked over the dead vampires but there was no sign that these were part of Draguul’s forces. Just another group of random turned beings. He looked so hard to find a way to openly attack the bloodless basturd, his master would not allow it otherwise…

“Now we will go to Aetherhold to see what Belphegorr needs of us…”

Day 4030 Y12D13 pict 2

Sea Potatoes

They blow about like eggshells, where the sand

Is dry and bleached as they are; others stained

Brown as their namesakes, in the bilge of rotting kelp,

The spines quite gone. The biggest are parchment-thin,

Brittle beyond belief: a breath breaks them.

Once, these were buried, deeper than human hearts,

Great globs of sea-flesh, encased in shells that bristled

With spatulate spines, each mouth a human orifice;

Each back a hairy mound, like a human crotch.

Lungless clumps of life beneath the sand.

Now, with flesh gone out of them, and all the gummy

Tube-feet withered, all the slime washed clean,

The mucus dried, and the breathing tube

That probed the sand and sought its end, all shrunk,

They break like bloodless wafers in the sun.

Source material: The sea-potato, or heart urchin, Echinocardium cordatum, is found in great numbers on the beaches of St. Martin’s, Isles of Scilly. It is a sand-burrowing sea urchin which has lost its radial symmetry, and has highly-adapted tube-feet which stick out from the shell, including some which extend up through a vertical, mucus-covered tube to the surface of the sand. When the animal dies, the soft part rots away like that of other sea urchins, but leaves behind a much more brittle shell. On windy days, these may be seen blowing about the beach. So brittle are these shells that my attempts to bring them home with me intact have nearly always ended in failure.

I wrote this poem whilst I was still living on Scilly, and illustrated it with a real sea-potato before I had my camera, by using a computer-scanner. I'm not sure if I'm indulging in self-censorship or not, but the words were not originally "orifice" and "crotch"...

Stevinson, CA

Grayson County Courthouse, Sherman, Texas.The earliest known inhabitants of what is now Grayson County, Texas were Caddo amerindian groups, including Tonkawa, Ionis, and Kichai. These groups engaged in agriculture and traded with Spanish and French at trading posts along the Red River.[3] This resulted in the establishment of trading posts at Preston Bend on the Red River, Warren, and Pilot Grove during 1836 and 1837. In the 1850s, trading and marketing at Preston Bend became more important, as agriculture became more grew in the county. This was helped by Preston Road, the first trail in the state which went from Preston Bend to Austin, Texas. More growth occurred after the establishment of Sherman as station of the Butterfield Overland Mail route in 1856.

Opinions in the county about Secession were not uniform, with the county voting by more than two to one in 1861 to remain in the Union. The Great Hanging at Gainesville where more than 40 men were killed was a polarizing event. Men from Grayson County served the Confederacy at various locations in the South. The Eleventh Texas Cavalry captured Federal forts in the Indian Territory north of the Red River.

Grayson county also has a dark past. During the Sherman Riot of May 9, 1930, Grayson County's elegant 1876 courthouse was burned down by arson during the trial of an African American man, George Hughes. During the riot, Hughes was locked in the vault at the courthouse and died in the fire. After rioters retrieved Hughes' body from the vault, it was dragged behind a car, hanged, and set afire. Texas Ranger Frank Hamer was in Grayson County during this riot and reported the situation to Texas Governor Dan Moody.[8] Governor Moody sent National Guard troops to Grayson County on May 9 and more on May 10 to control the situation. Grayson County's current courthouse, pictured above, was completed in 1936.

The Bridge War, also called the Red River Bridge War or the Toll Bridge War, was a 1931 bloodless boundary conflict between the U.S. states of Oklahoma and Texas over an existing toll bridge and a new free bridge crossing the Red River between Grayson County, Texas and Bryan County, Oklahoma. That's another photo, and story to come later.

EL BOTÓN

El Presidente miraba el botón sin verlo, tan intensas eran las cábalas sobre sus intenciones. Sólo él conocía su existencia y no eran necesarios protocolos de claves enigmáticas ni secuencias de números sellados compartidos con su hombre de confianza. Su antecesor en la Presidencia del país le confesó dónde estaba el mecanismo secreto para, en caso de extrema gravedad, anticiparse al atacante.

La Humanidad se desangraba en continuas guerras por muchos motivos. El ser humano nunca escarmentaba ni aprendía de sus errores; seguía obstinado en luchar contra su prójimo, fuera el que fuera y allá donde se hallase. Esto tenía que acabar, pensó el Presidente. La solución era apretar el botón. Había que empezar de cero.

Nuevos seres poblarían de nuevo el planeta Tierra. Tras la extinción de los dinosaurios sobrevino el caos pero luego nuevas especies de animales y plantas aparecieron. La Vida, de un modo u otro, no se extinguió totalmente, perduró aunque con formas distintas. Ahora sucedería algo semejante.

Las guerras conllevan crueldad y el fin del enemigo, Para los supervivientes, hambrunas y penurias, miserias insufribles.

No era lícito bajo ningún concepto, que un presidente decidiese sobre el porvenir de sus semejantes. Desde hace un tiempo este pensamiento lo llevaba siempre en su conciencia, día y noche, no le dejaba en paz.

En realidad no pretendía ni deseaba el fin de la humanidad, de la vida misma en el planeta. Él no temía a la muerte, más bien la deseaba; ésa era la finalidad de liberar la bomba K. Morir del modo más rápido e indoloro. Pero era inhumano y no era justo acabar con la vida de los demás. Aunque era bien cierto que las guerras , lenta pero inexorablemente, aniquilarían a todos los habitantes del planeta en poco espacio de tiempo. Él haría que ese final fuera más rápido e incruento.

Era el hombre más poderoso del mundo, podía decidir sobre naciones y pueblos enteros, quebrantar voluntades, todos le temían. La causante de estos pensamientos y deseos fratricidas era la infelicidad que le embargaba, el motivo de que tuviera a mano aquel botón. ¿De qué le servía decidir y dominarlo todo si últimamente el amor de su esposa le había abandonado? Se sentía el más desgraciado del universo y nada le importaba ya que todo desapareciera para siempre por esa ausencia.

En ese estado, nadie hubiera dado crédito a lo que pasaba por su mente . Ahora no era su corazón de oro, como siempre se atribuyó a sí mismo y mostraba a todos. Era el del hombre más ruin y despreciable que pudiera existir. Se asqueaba de sí mismo y pensar que era al fin y al cabo un hombre como cualquier otro, no apaciguaba su ánimo de quitarse la vida,

Su matrimonio era un ejemplo de amor y convivencia para el país, la imagen de una pareja adorable. Nadie imaginaba que en la intimidad imperaba el vacío, el desamor más insondable. Por eso no deseaba vivir en este estado, con esa carencia que se prolongaba demasiado tiempo, sin motivo aparente.

Levemente puso el dedo índice de su mano derecha sobre el botón. Si lo pulsara, el cohete con la carga letal surcaría los cielos más veloz que cualquier otro artefacto conocido para arrasarlo todo. En ese momento sonó su teléfono privado.

Era su esposa y le recordaba que era su aniversario de boda. Se sentía más feliz que nunca por compartir la vida con él y ser madre de sus hijos. Estaba deseando que volviera a su lado cuanto antes para celebrar tan importante efeméride brindando con champagne francés.

Aquellas dulces y tiernas palabras rebosantes de amor fueron un repentino y poderoso bálsamo para su atribulada desesperanza. El solitario y frío despacho presidencial se llenó como por arte de magia de la presencia y la voz de su añorada y deseada esposa que durante un tiempo creyó no lo amaba. Una inesperada felicidad embargó su antes triste corazón para que refulgiera y le hiciera sentirse diferente.

Un resorte desconocido e involuntario hizo que apartase la mano del botón. Su mente bullía en mil pensamientos contradictorios al pensar en la atrocidad que iba a cometer. Se horrorizó de sí mismo por querer ser el causante de la muerte de millones de seres humanos. Que también sufrían de amor y por otros motivos mucho más acuciantes que los suyos propios y deseaban morir voluntariamente.

Decididamente no pulsaría el botón. Él menos que nadie podía decidir sobre la vida y la muerte de ningún ser humano.

El botón seguiría en el lugar secreto de siempre.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE BUTTON

The President looked at the button without seeing it, so intense were the cabals about his intentions. Only he knew of its existence and no enigmatic key protocols or sequences of sealed numbers shared with his trusted man were necessary. His predecessor in the Presidency of the country confessed to him where the secret mechanism was to, in case of extreme gravity, anticipate the attacker.

Humanity bled to death in continuous wars for many reasons. The human being never chastised or learned from his mistakes; he was still stubborn in fighting against his neighbor, whoever he went and wherever he was. This had to end, the President thought. The solution was to push the button. You had to start from scratch.

New beings would again populate planet Earth. After the extinction of the dinosaurs chaos ensued but then new species of animals and plants appeared. Life, in one way or another, did not become totally extinct, it endured although with different forms. Now something similar would happen.

Wars entail cruelty and the end of the enemy in the form of death to which more heartbreaking. For the survivors, famines and hardships, insufferable miseries.

It was not lawful under any circumstances for a president to decide on the future of his fellow men. For some time this thought always carried him in his consciousness, day and night, it did not leave him alone.

In reality he did not intend or desire the end of humanity, of life itself on the planet. He did not fear death, rather he desired it; that was the purpose of releasing the K. bomb To die in the fastest and most painless way. But it was inhumane and it was not fair to end the lives of others. Although it was true that wars, slowly but inexorably, would annihilate all the inhabitants of the planet in a short space of time. He would make that ending faster and bloodless.

He was the most powerful man in the world, he could decide on entire nations and peoples, break wills, everyone feared him. The cause of these fratricidal thoughts and desires was the unhappiness that overwhelmed him, the reason why he had that button at hand. What good was it for him to decide and master everything if lately his wife's love had abandoned him? He felt the most unfortunate in the universe and nothing mattered to him since everything disappeared forever because of that absence.

In that state, no one would have suspected the true nature of the President's heart, In such a situation it was not his golden heart, as he always attributed to himself and wanted to show everyone. He was the most despicable and despicable man who could ever exist. He was disgusted with himself and to think that he was after all a man like any other, did not appease his desire to take his own life,

Their marriage was an example of love and coexistence for the country, the image of an adorable couple. No one imagined that in intimacy emptiness prevailed, the most unfathomable heartbreak. That is why I did not want to live in this state, with that lack that lasted too long, for no apparent reason.

He slightly put the index finger of his right hand on the button. If pressed, the rocket with the lethal charge would soar through the skies faster than any other known artifact to wipe it all out. At that moment his private phone rang.

It was his wife and reminded him that it was his wedding anniversary. She felt happier than ever to share life with him and be a mother to his children. I was looking forward to him coming back to his side as soon as possible to celebrate such an important anniversary by toasting with French champagne.

Those sweet and tender words brimming with love were a sudden and powerful balm for his troubled hopelessness. The lonely and cold presidential office was filled as if by magic with the presence and voice of his longed for and desired wife who for a time believed she did not love him. An unexpected happiness overwhelmed his formerly sad heart to shine and make him feel different.

An unknown and involuntary spring caused him to move his hand away from the button. His mind was buzzing with a thousand contradictory thoughts as he thought of the atrocity he was going to commit. He was horrified at himself for wanting to be the cause of the death of millions of human beings. That they also suffered from love and for other reasons much more pressing than their own and wished to die voluntarily.

I definitely wouldn't press the button. He less than anyone else could decide on the life and death of any human being.

The button would remain in the usual secret place.

- - - - - -

Silent Stars

model: Eternal Sylph

MUA: Molly Chopin- Artist

frost texture: Noyse Works

Europe, Portugal, Lisboa, Doca de Santo Amaro, Ponte 25 de Abril, Noise Shield (slightly cut)

During a walk along the Doca de Santo Amaro, we decided to have a drink under the 25 April bridge. We hadn't noticed the curious recent addition to it before. A member of the squash club that's situated right below explained that it's a noise barrier "that was far too expensive and is in-effective'". The last part was fairly obvious. So it might have been a joke. And the barrier a giant sculpture.

Information about the bridge itself:

The April 25 bridge is the last bridge before the Tejo reaches the Atlantic ocean.

It took the New Yorker Steel International Inc and its co-contractors 4 years to build this suspension bridge at a cost of 32 million US dollars. It shares quite a lot of design characteristics with the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. It was inaugurated in 1966 as the 'Salazar Bridge', named after the dictator who had it built. It was later renamed to commemorate the bloodless 'Carnation Revolution' that happened on the 25th of April 1974.

-Discussion about a separate railway bridge - time was spend discussing the alternative – a high capacity dedicated railway bridge with better integration in the regional railway and subway network. The Seixal and Amada municipalities opted for this. Still, it is common to see queues on either side and across the bridge, despite the relief afforded by the construction of the Vasco da Gama road bridge further upstream. The building of a new railway bridge is again contemplated..

Number 151 of the Lisboa & Outra banda album here. And, ofcourse number 816 of the Minimalism / explicit graphisms album here.

21.08.2013

The day air turned into poison in AlGhouta. 1000+ died at the same moment because of breathing in the Sarin gas that was loaded within the bombs by the Assad regime. Most victims were from women and children. The Gas left too many disabilities on the survivors. And yet the doer is still free, and still has a normal luxuries life, after 7 years of this bloodless massacre.

There once were some folk

reduced to a stone,

their home a small crypt

sitting alone.

And there once was a tree

standing stalwart and free

Whose colours in the autumn

made the bloodless dead moan.

(6 Photos.)

Thank you for your comments, visits, and invites. As always, much appreciated.

To see the photos in the comment box in large size, click on them.

Smoke lingered in the air, stinging the eyes and burning the lungs of the three hooded figures making their way through the burned wreckage. Three days earlier, Sir Glennian and his companions had seen a column of smoke rising from the distant forest. Upon reaching the source, the foresters found an abandoned village, looted and razed to the ground…

A harsh cough escaped from Glennian’s throat. “Be careful there!” he shouted to one of his companions. “The roof on that house appears to be mightily unstable!”

Glancing up, the forester quickly vacated the burned house. Advancing toward Sir Glennian, the man scratched his head, “Who in Roawia would have done this?!?!”

“I haven’t the slightest idea…unless….” Glennian trailed off. A sudden flash of color in one of the buildings caught his eye. With a flourish of his emerald cloak, Glennian began to sprint toward the burned home. The dwelling’s door had previously been reduced to ashes, and the rickety, charred roof allowed a great deal of light to reach the soot-covered floor. As Glennian reached the house’s doorway, he saw, protruding from the floor, an Outlaw spear draped with a waving flag of the Queen’s colors.

“No! It cannot be!” Glennian and his men stood aghast. A deep, boiling anger churned within their chests.

“But…why?” There seemed no plausible reason for the senseless burning and looting of a harmless Lenfel village. Thus far, the Queen’s takeover had been primarily political. Certainly, her troops had confiscated many of the populace’s weapons and tools, and they had forced many to flee from their homes, but their takeover had been mostly bloodless and met with little resistance. Glennian could see little reason for the destruction of an innocent village…Glennian blinked. A bright light seemed to be shining out of the building’s crumbled chimney. Stepping around burnt furniture, he reached over and pulled some of the bricks loose from the fireplace. Concealed within Glennian found a torn sack, spilling over with several dozen pounds of gold!

“Aha!” Glennian shouted. “This explains it! Word must have gotten out about this stash of gold, which, I’m sure, would draw all the Queen’s soldiers stationed anywhere in Lenfald!”

Splitting it between them, Glennian and his companions stuffed the gold beneath their cloaks. “Well, we certainly won’t let them get any of it.”

Something else had been bothering him. In all their searching around the village, none of the foresters had come across any dead bodies. Which must mean…that they had all been taken prisoner.

_____________________________________________________

A free build for LCC and an entry for my LCC Brawl vs. RBCustoms.

This was a pretty quick build, but very fun!

God bless! Soli Deo Gloria! :)

Laocoön's head

Laocoön and His Sons - a probable marble copy executed between the 1st century BC and I century AD of an original bronze of 150 BC - Pio-Clementine Museum of Vatican Museums

Il gruppo statuario raffigura la fine di Laocoonte e dei suoi due figli Antifante e Timbreo mentre vengono stritolati da due serpenti marini

The statuary group depicts the end of Laocoonte and its two sons Antifante and Timbreo while being crushed by two sea serpents

With tongues flickering in their mouths red,

They like the twin killing stings in their head.

We fled away all bloodless for fear.

But with a braid to Laocoon to tear

They start attacking, and his two sons sing

First the other serpent latched on like a ring,

And with their cruel bite, and sting they fell,

Of tender limbs took many a sorry morsel;

Next they the priest invaded both to entwine,

Whence with his weapons did his body pine

His children for to help and rescue.

Both they about him looped in knots through,

And twice circled his middle round about,

And twice folded their scaly skin but doubt,

About his crown, both neck and head they scrag

Le pré de Madame Carle (en bas à droite) se trouve à l'extrémité du vallon Saint-Pierre, au-dessus du village d'Ailefroide. - Le pic qui se trouve dans les nuages est nommé le Clocher de Clouzis.

L'histoire du nom de cet endroit se trouve peut-etre dans ce récit extrait du livre « Autour de Briançon l'hiver, Pas à Pas... » de Jean-Michel NEVEU et Marianne CHANEL :

« Des écrivains et des gens du pays, depuis le XVII ème siècle, racontent une toute autre histoire, associant confusément Dame Carle à Geoffroy Carle, président du parlement de Grenoble. Il habite avec sa jeune et jolie femme au hameau de la Bâtie. Très investi dans la vie du village des Vigneaux, il décide un jour de faire réaliser à ses frais, sur l'église Saint-Laurent des Vigneaux, une fresque représentant les vices et leurs châtiments. Et confie à sa femme le soin de surveiller les travaux du jeune peintre italien engagé pour cet ouvrage. On raconte alors que Louise s'acquitte avec plaisir de sa tâche, et séduit le bel artiste. Mais lors d'une soirée à Rame (ancien nom de La Roche-de-Rame), la trop jolie Dame de la Bâtie oublie bien vite son pauvre peintre dans les bras du seigneur de Rame, profitant de l'absence de Geoffroy Carle. Avec naïveté et imprudence, elle se rend à l'église surveiller les avancées du peintre... aux bras de sa nouvelle conquête. Blessé et jaloux, le peintre jure alors de se venger. Il lui restait à peindre les visages des personnifications des vices : la tête de l'orgueil sera ce prétentieux seigneur de Rame, la Colère ira à merveille à Geoffroy Carle, trompé et Mme Carle la belle sera à tout jamais juchée sur un bouc représentant la luxure. Geoffroy Carle n'aura aucun mal à reconnaître ces portraits. Fou de rage, lui aussi décide de se venger. Dans le secret, il prive d'eau et de nourriture la mule de sa femme, pendant plusieurs jours. Un matin, Geoffroy Carle emmène sa femme visiter leurs prés en fond de vallée, au-dessus du vallon de la grande Sagne, lui sur son cheval, elle sur cette mule exsangue. Attirée par les eaux du torrent de Saint-Pierre, la mule assoiffée se précipite avec fougue dans les eaux tumultueuses, entraînant définitivement la trop séduisante Mme Carle. »

Madame Carle's meadow (bottom right) is at the end of the Saint-Pierre valley, above the village of Ailefroide. - The peak in the clouds is called the Clocher de Clouzis.

The history of the name of this place can be found in this story taken from the book "Autour de Briançon l'hiver, Pas à Pas..." by Jean-Michel NEVEU and Marianne CHANEL:

“Writers and people of the country, since the 17th century, tell a completely different story, confusingly associating Dame Carle with Geoffroy Carle, president of the parliament of Grenoble. He lives with his young and pretty wife in the hamlet of La Bâtie. Very involved in the life of the village of Vigneaux, he decided one day to have a fresco painted on the church of Saint-Laurent des Vigneaux, at his own expense, representing vices and their punishments. And entrusts his wife with supervising the work of the young Italian painter hired for this work. It is then said that Louise fulfills her task with pleasure, and seduces the beautiful artist. But during an evening at Rame (former name of La Roche-de-Rame), the overly pretty Dame de la Bâtie soon forgets her poor painter in the arms of the Lord of Rame, taking advantage of the absence of Geoffroy Carle. With naivety and imprudence, she goes to the church to monitor the progress of the painter... in the arms of his new conquest. Hurt and jealous, the painter then swears revenge. He still had to paint the faces of the personifications of vices: the head of pride will be this pretentious lord of Rame, Anger will go wonderfully to Geoffroy Carle, deceived and Madame Carle the beautiful will forever be perched on a goat representing the lust. Geoffroy Carle will have no trouble recognizing these portraits. Mad with rage, he also decides to take revenge. In secret, he deprived his wife's mule of water and food for several days. One morning, Geoffroy Carle takes his wife to visit their meadows at the bottom of the valley, above the valley of the Grande Sagne, he on his horse, she on this bloodless mule. Attracted by the waters of the Saint-Pierre torrent, the thirsty mule rushes with ardor into the turbulent waters, dragging the overly seductive Mme Carle with her. »

Despite their proximity to the west coast of Africa these islands were apparently entirely uninhabited when Portuguese navigators João de Santarém and Pero Escobar arrived on Saint Thomas’s day the 21st of December 1470. The Portuguese quickly settled the islands and were soon importing slaves from the mainland to work in their newly established sugar plantations. The sugar produced here was of poor quality compared to that from elsewhere and from the beginning of the 19th century was replaced with coffee this crop was in turn largely replaced by cocoa. Slavery in the islands’ plantations or roças carried on until 1875 when it was abolished and replaced with a system of contract labour this did not significantly improve the lives of the island’s labour force and the Portuguese continued to import labourers from their mainland colonies. At the beginning of the 20th century the plight of the plantation workers reached the outside world, protests from the Aboriginal Protection Society and the Anti-Slavery Society prompted William Cadbury to send an agent to the islands to investigate. Possibly to protect his company's own commercial interests and to allow time for them to establish their own plantations in the Gold Coast (Ghana) he chose not to act for some years until after he visited the Islands in 1909 to see for himself. Cadburys and other chocolate companies then started a boycott of Cocoa from the Islands. However little changed for the people who remained as virtual slaves.

In 1953 a descendents of former slaves known as Forros fearing they would be conscripted and forced to work on the plantations protested at Batepa, Portuguese troops attacked the protesters and in the massacre that followed over 1,000 Forros may have been killed. This event sparked the establishment of a liberation movement however despite the Batepa Massacre unlike in Portugal’s mainland colonies there was no war for independence. Following Portugal’s bloodless Carnation Revolution in 1974 the islands demanded their independence and this was granted the following year.

Although STP's independence had been achieved peacefully the Portuguese plantation owners fled abandoning their plantations and the islands. Soon afterwards the roças were nationalised by STP’s new Marxist government many of them fell in to disrepair during this period.

In colonial times Roça Sundy was much the largest of Principe's plantations it is littered with old steam engines and other machinery from the days when it was a working cacoa and coffee plantation. This old engine certainly hasn't run for a very long time.

Another old shot of a 6x4 print and then just photographed with the P&S .

RMV Scillonian III is a passenger ship based at Penzance in Cornwall, England, United Kingdom, run by the Isles of Scilly Steamship Company. She operates the principal ferry service to the Isles of Scilly and is one of only three ships in the world still carrying the status of Royal Mail Ship (hence RMV – Royal Mail Vessel).

The Isles of Scilly are an archipelago 25 mi (40 km) off the southwestern tip of Cornwall, England. The principal islands are St Mary's, Tresco, St Martin's, St Agnes and Bryher. The skerry of Pednathise Head is the most southerly point in the United Kingdom, being 6.6 miles (10.6 km) farther south than the most southerly point of mainland Great Britain at Lizard Point.

The population of all the islands at the 2011 census was 2,203. Scilly forms part of the ceremonial county of Cornwall, and some services are combined with those of Cornwall. However, since 1890, the islands have had a separate local authority. Since the passing of the Isles of Scilly Order 1930, this authority has had the status of a county council and today is known as the Council of the Isles of Scilly.

The adjective "Scillonian" is sometimes used for people or things related to the archipelago. The Duchy of Cornwall owns most of the freehold land on the islands. Tourism is a major part of the local economy, along with agriculture—particularly the production of cut flowers.

And now something you did not expect ---

The 335 Year War – The Isles of Scilly vs the Netherlands

Situated off the western coast of mainland Cornwall and basking in the warmth of the Gulf Stream, the Isles of Scilly were – until 1986 – involved in the longest running war in history.

The 335 Year War (as it is now known) was a bloodless conflict between the Netherlands and the tiny Isles of Scilly which began as far back as 1651 during the English Civil War.

The Dutch, an unlikely player in this domestic clash, had decided to join the conflict on the side of the Parliamentarians after identifying them as the most likely victors. The Royalists – long time allies of the Dutch – considered this decision a betrayal and set about punishing their former friends by raiding Dutch shipping lanes in the English Channel.

By 1651 however, things were not going well for the Royalist forces. After a series of successful battles, Cromwell had pushed their army back to their last stronghold of Cornwall, whilst the Royalist navy had been forced back to the tiny Isles of Scilly.

The Dutch, seeing an opportunity to recoup some of their losses from the Royalist raids, immediately sent a fleet of twelve warships to the Isles of Scilly to demand reparations. After receiving no satisfactory answer from the Royalists, the Dutch Admiral Maarten Tromp subsequently declared war on the Isles of Scilly on the 30th March 1651.

Interestingly, there are conflicting accounts over whether or not Tromp actually had the authority to declare war on the Isles of Scilly. Some argue that Tromp had been given the authority prior to setting out, whilst others argue that he carried out a blockade of the islands whilst waiting for his government’s approval. Regardless of the specifics, three months later in June 1651 Cromwell’s forces under the command of Admiral Robert Black forced the Royalist fleet to surrender and the Isles of Scilly reverted to Parliamentarian control. The Dutch fleet subsequently sailed home, albeit forgetting to declare peace on the poor little Isles of Scilly!

Fast forward to 1985 when a local Scilly historian called Roy Duncan wrote to the Dutch Embassy in London to see if there was any evidence to support the seemingly absurd claim of a 335 year war. To everyone’s surprise, the embassy uncovered a series of documents which suggested that the Netherlands and the Islands were, indeed, still at war!

Perhaps concerned with the possibility of a renewed Dutch threat, Duncan hastily wrote to the Dutch ambassador Rein Huydecoper inviting him to visit the islands and to sign a peace treaty. Huydecoper agreed, and on the 17th April 1986 a peace treaty was signed between the Isles of Scilly and the Kingdom of the Netherlands.

For the first time in 335 years the Scillonians could sleep safety in their beds, for as the Ambassador remarked; “It must have been awful to know we could have attacked at any moment.”

...that is being spilled in the name of freedom right now in Myanmar (previously, Burma).

To millions of people who fought, bled and perished for the right to be free, independence is a cherished birthright.

To Filipinos like myself who have been blessed enough to witness the bloodless "People Power" revolution against a ruthless dictator in 1986, Myanmar is a brutal reminder of what we could have been subjected to.

I pray for the Myanmar people.

=======================================================

P.S.:

This is the same blood-colored sunset that cast the color tinge

on the two birds in my previous picture.

*********************************************************************************************

Beause I shoot the RB67 only using the waist level finder and no tripod, I'm usually postioned pretty low. But for this shot, I wanted to be a bit higher.

I felt weird grabbing a chair and standing on it, so I focused best I could, turned the camera upside down, and lifted it above my head. I looked through the finder, now an arm's length above me, framed the shot and pulled the trigger.

I'm pretty happy with how it turned out, and even happier that the corridors had names.

.

.

.

'Bloodless'

Camera: Mamiya RB67

Lens: Mamiya-Sekor 3.8/90mm

Film: Ilford HP5+ at 1600iso

Process: HC-110B; 11mins

Washington

December 2023

Location: Ludlow, Shropshire, England.

Ludford bridge crosses the River Teme between Ludlow and Ludford and is historically important as it was the site of the War of the Roses, largely bloodless, Battle of Ludford Bridge, which took place on 12 October 1459, and resulted in a setback for the Yorkists. Although this seemed to be a triumph for the Lancastrians at the time, they had given away their advantage within six months.

Thank you for visiting - your faves and comments are all very much appreciated.

To view more popular, interesting and sometimes unusual places and subjects, please click the link below:-

www.flickriver.com/photos/micky_b/popular-interesting

Theme: Archangel - Amoranthe

Concept Art created using AI Furry Generator

Edited using Krita 5.2.9

I mourn for the fallen demons, 

Leviathan carries my will.

Confounded,

yet I am immortal,

the ultimate torment I feel!

descends from Elysium's creed.

Many have been the feats of leopard virtue of Iohannes Paulus Crispianus II. Yet, what of his father? Why does no one sing the praises of Iohannes Paulus Crispianus I?

The story behind this hidden history is one of great tragedy and deceit. Many believe that in the end, most sins will be forgiven. Yet, there is such thing as the unforgivable sin. Did Iohannes the Senior do such a devilish thing? As far as Iohannes the Younger is concerned, he holds no blame upon his father for the events that unfolded and led to the destruction of a leopard-man who, in his own days of glory, had done numerous deeds of virtue and valor. Indeed, Iohannes II is second only to his father in living such a good and holy life of a paladin. So what happened?

First, we must understand the theology of the dragon hunters. For you see each dragon hunter has charge over them an archangel from Heaven. The Crispianus family have Raphael in charge of them. Some believe that this is why the family has a strong trait of emerald green eyes, are able to heal quickly, and are quite passionate lovers. Old wives tales aside, the importance of the archangel is protection over the dragon slayer as they go do battle with their mortal enemy, the evil red dragon Maleflagramontes.

However, according to the principles of the theology, as in Heaven, also below. Maleflagramontes has the arch-demon Asmodeus in charge over him. Thus, these battles between dragon and dragon slayer are not merely feats of physical heroic virtue, but also a spiritual battle, and thus a microcosm of the ancient War in Heaven by which one-third of the angels had fallen and become demons that seek to conquer the universe and usurp God.

Iohannes Paulus Crispianus I was a very pius dragon slayer paladin. Again, no one was an equal or greater to the senior other than his own son. Thus is great the tragedy that befell the elder and brought about the worst treachery to ever happen to the Crispianus family. Yet, to this day the younger will not speak evil of his father, often praying, "Forgive them, Lord, for they know not what they say nor do,"

Yet, for what is known in private rumors and stories, one would think that Ioh would have reasons to be bitter. But that is not how leopard-men understand the world, especially as paladin and dragon slayer. They know what their fate can be if they do not succeed and defeat Maleflagramontes. What precisely can happen is something the author cannot tell, especially in mixed general public. All I can say is that it is true that dragons are born from an 'egg,' though not necessarily in how you may understand the term. It is also half true that dragons can be made by way of cats that have been tormented and turned evil. Putting the parts to the whole, I'll leave it to your imagination what the whole truth may be. But I will say that it is is a very terrible and tragic fate for the leopard-man, especially as the 'egg' develops more into the dragon he had committed his whole life to slaying. As misfortune may have it, the last time Ioh had seen his father was when the development was near complete, and his father was becoming the evil red dragon he once opposed. Above is the iconography of that first battle with the reincarnation of Maleflagramontes, as he fully took over Iohannes Paulus Crispianus I, who was shed of his leopard-man body, and now was comprised of the new blood red scales of the evil red dragon.

I sing for the fallen angels,

I carry them under my wings.

I'm frozen but still undefeated,

for the abandoned I sing!

Archangel has fallen down!

Laocoön and His Sons - a probable marble copy executed between the 1st century BC and I century AD of an original bronze of 150 BC - Pio-Clementine Museum of Vatican Museums

Il gruppo statuario raffigura la fine di Laocoonte e dei suoi due figli Antifante e Timbreo mentre vengono stritolati da due serpenti marini

The statuary group depicts the end of Laocoonte and its two sons Antifante and Timbreo while being crushed by two sea serpents

With tongues flickering in their mouths red,

They like the twin killing stings in their head.

We fled away all bloodless for fear.

But with a braid to Laocoon to tear

They start attacking, and his two sons sing

First the other serpent latched on like a ring,

And with their cruel bite, and sting they fell,

Of tender limbs took many a sorry morsel;

Next they the priest invaded both to entwine,

Whence with his weapons did his body pine

His children for to help and rescue.

Both they about him looped in knots through,

And twice circled his middle round about,

And twice folded their scaly skin but doubt,

About his crown, both neck and head they scrag

Was bored and got a quick shot. Thought I'd update my profile pic.

Despite their proximity to the west coast of Africa these islands were apparently entirely uninhabited when Portuguese navigators João de Santarém and Pero Escobar arrived on Saint Thomas’s day the 21st of December 1470. The Portuguese quickly settled the islands and were soon importing slaves from the mainland to work in their newly established sugar plantations. The sugar produced here was of poor quality compared to that from elsewhere and from the beginning of the 19th century was replaced with coffee this crop was in turn largely replaced by cocoa. Slavery in the islands’ plantations or roças carried on until 1875 when it was abolished and replaced with a system of contract labour this did not significantly improve the lives of the island’s labour force and the Portuguese continued to import labourers from their mainland colonies. At the beginning of the 20th century the plight of the plantation workers reached the outside world, protests from the Aboriginal Protection Society and the Anti-Slavery Society prompted William Cadbury to send an agent to the islands to investigate. Possibly to protect his company's own commercial interests and to allow time for them to establish their own plantations in the Gold Coast (Ghana) he chose not to act for some years until after he visited the Islands in 1909 to see for himself. Cadburys and other chocolate companies then started a boycott of Cocoa from the Islands. However little changed for the people who remained as virtual slaves.

In 1953 descendents of former slaves known as Forros fearing they would be conscripted and forced to work on the plantations protested at Batepa, Portuguese troops attacked the protesters and in the massacre that followed over 1,000 Forros may have been killed. This event sparked the establishment of a liberation movement however despite the Batepa Massacre, unlike in Portugal’s mainland colonies there was no war for independence. Following Portugal’s bloodless Carnation Revolution in 1974 the islands demanded their independence and this was granted the following year.

Although STP's independence had been achieved peacefully the Portuguese plantation owners fled abandoning their plantations and the islands. Soon afterwards the roças were nationalised by STP’s new Marxist government many of them fell in to disrepair during this period.

Please View this Large On Black

This week, we commemorate the EDSA revolution. A bloodless struggle that emancipated the Filipinos from over 20 years of tyranny and martial rule. The questions though to ask after 24 years are: Is the spirit of EDSA still alive? Have we Truly been Free?

This is a collaborative work between my nephew and myself.

Processing involved HDR and usage of two other images for background.

Фото 1 . Неудачное фото лося который удирает.

см фото2

**Охота на лося**

Я отправился в лес на фотоохоту, надеясь запечатлеть величественного лося. Долго бродил по следам, ощущая запах зверя ,влажной земли и хвои, но лось не появлялся. Два часа безрезультатных поисков , лишь тишина леса и шуршания листвы от моих шагов.

Следы вели дальше вдоль ручья и неожиданно, на поляне вдалеке, я заметил лосиху и её лосенка, стремительно убегающих через лес. В голове пронеслась мысль: «Вот она, моя удача!». Побежал за ними, камера в руках готова к действию. Но, сделав несколько шагов и неудачный снимок беглецов , что-то заставило замереть.

Передо мной раскрылся удивительный пейзаж: небо пылало оранжевыми оттенками, а все вокруг как будто замерло в ожидании ночи. Забыв о погоне, начал снимать закат ,который никогда не повторится.

Лоси стали невольными проводниками к растворенной в этом вечере Красоте.

Я понял что охота за снимком — это не только планирование, но и способность быть открытым для спонтанности. Нужно слушать внутренний голос, уметь останавливаться и ценить момент. Этот закат стал для меня желанным и бескровным трофеем . Особо благодарен величественным животным- Лосям .

Photo 1 . A bad photo of a moose running away.

see photo 2

I went on a photo hunt in the forest, hoping to capture the majestic moose. For a long time I wandered along the tracks, smelling the scent of the animal, wet earth and pine needles, but the moose did not appear. Two hours of fruitless search, only silence of the forest and rustling of leaves from my footsteps.

Tracks led further along the creek and suddenly, in a clearing in the distance, I noticed a moose and her moose cub, rapidly running away through the forest. The thought flashed through my mind: "Here it is, my luck!". I ran after them, camera in hand ready for action. But after a few steps and an unsuccessful shot of the fugitives, something made me freeze.

A wonderful landscape opened before me: the sky was ablaze with orange hues, and everything around seemed to be frozen in anticipation of night. Forgetting about the chase, I started shooting the sunset, which would never be repeated.

Moose became unwitting guides to the Beauty dissolved in this evening.

I realised that hunting for a shot is not only about planning, but also about being open to spontaneity. You have to listen to your inner voice, be able to stop and appreciate the moment. This sunset was a welcome and bloodless trophy for me . I am especially grateful to the majestic animals - Elk.

Better to ask forgiveness than permission

Muammar Muhammad Abu Minyar al-Gaddafi[7] (Arabic: معمر محمد أبو منيار القذافي‎) (June 1942[nb 1] – 20 October 2011), commonly known as Muammar Gaddafi /ˈmoʊ.əmɑr ɡəˈdɑːfi/ (Arabic: مُعَمَّر القَذَّافِي‎ Muʿammar al-Qaḏḏāfī audio (help·info)) or Colonel Gaddafi, was a Libyan politician and political theorist. He served as the ruler of the Libyan Arab Republic from 1969 to 1977 and then the "Brother Leader" of the Libyan Arab Jamahiriya from 1977 to 2011. Politically an Arab nationalist, he formulated his own ideology, known as Third Universal Theory, with industry and business being nationalized under state ownership. He later came to embrace Pan-Africanism, and served as Chairperson of the African Union (AU) from 2009 to 2010.

Born the son of an impoverished Bedouin goatherd, Gaddafi became involved in Arab nationalist politics while at school in Sabha, subsequently enrolling in the Royal Military Academy, Benghazi. Founding a revolutionary group within the ranks of the Libyan military, in 1969 he seized power from King Idris in a bloodless coup. Becoming leader of the governing Revolutionary Command Council (RCC), he dissolved the monarchy and proclaimed the Libyan Arab Republic. Ruling by decree, he implemented measures to remove foreign imperialist influence from Libya, and strengthened ties to other Arab nationalist governments. Intent on pushing Libya toward socialism, he nationalized the country's oil industry and used the increased revenues to bolster the military, implement social programs to improve housing and healthcare, and fund revolutionary groups across the world. In 1973 he announced the start of a "Popular Revolution" in Libya with the formation of General People's Committees (GPCs), a system of direct democracy, but retained personal control over major decisions. He outlined his Third Universal Theory that year, publishing these ideas in a political tract, The Green Book.

In 1977, he dissolved the Republic and announced the creation of the Jamahiriya, officially adopting a symbolic role within the country's governance structure. Throughout Libya, Revolutionary Committees were formed to accompany the GPCs, with Gaddafi as their leader; utilizing violence to suppress counter-revolutionary elements, Gaddafi later admitted that they had caused excessive problems. Overseeing unsuccessful border conflicts with Egypt and Chad, his support for foreign militants led to Libya being labelled an "international pariah", with a particularly hostile relationship developing with the United States and United Kingdom. From 1991, Gaddafi initiated moves to improve relations with former enemies, a policy that Libya pursued for two decades. In February 2011, following revolutions in neighboring Egypt and Tunisia, an anti-Gaddafist uprising led by the rebel National Transitional Council (NTC) broke out, resulting in the Libyan civil war. A NATO-led coalition intervened militarily on the side of the NTC, resulting in the downfall of the government. Gaddafi himself retreated to Sirte, but was captured and killed by NTC fighters.

Gaddafi is a controversial and highly divisive world figure, being lauded as a champion of anti-imperialism and both Arab and African nationalism by his supporters, but his critics have accused him of being a dictator and autocrat whose authoritarian administration has overseen multiple human rights abuses both at home and abroad.

Charles Gesner van der Voort (1916-1991) was part of a group of Dutch bachelors in pre-war Shanghai. Another member of this group was David van Gelderen (1908-1990), originally from Rotterdam. He arrived in Shanghai in 1933, working for Unilever, a merger of the operations of Dutch Margarine Unie and British soap maker Lever Brothers.

The photo albums of his China years contain many photos of the bachelor life in those days: travel, work, parties, trips within China and to Japan. They also include photos of the bombing of the Unilever factory during the 1937 Japanese attack of Shanghai, membership of the French Special Police and other unique photos.

Like Charles, David was interned in Chapei Civil Assembly Centre by the Japanese from 1943 to 1945.

Being Jewish, internment in Shanghai probably saved David’s life; since all of his family members in the Netherlands were killed by the Nazis.

David married, had two children and continued to work for Unilever. He became member of Nederlandse Reünisten Vereniging China (NRVC, Dutch Reunists Association China).

This photo shows three members of the French Special Police. David van Gelderen (centre) was a volunteer member; many foreign nationals in Shanghai were volunteers in the Shanghai Volunteer Corps and related organisations. Jan Duinker's son wrote to me: "My father is standing to van Gelderen's right. I knew that he was in one volunteer group or another. I have never seen him in the French Police uniform before." "I realized that it is the Dutch mess in the background of the Police Speciale Francaise photo. The address is 75 Route Delastre in the French concession. I have a photo of the building." Route Delastre was renamed to Tai Yuan Lu in 1943. The Dutch National Archives show this address as the home of Jan Duinker, Frikkie Wiersum, Hugo Huyssen van Kattendijke and Hans Visser, who were part of the group of Dutch bachelors in Shanghai.

A newspaper from this period described the atmosphere at the time, a.o. a shooting between a Wang Jingwei (Wang Ching-wei) related group and French police.

Delpher.nl (Dutch Royal Library):

Soerabajasch Handelsblad, 19 May 1940

translation Pieter Lommerse

"Battle of Banks in Shanghai

A “blood-less” revolution

An unhealthy life, also for judges

(by an employee)

Shanghai, 24 April.

A revolution (or should it be called a coup d’état?) has taken place in the International Settlement in Shanghai, which is usually called “the Settlement”, and the funny thing is, that almost nobody noticed anything, and everything happened without bloodshed or excitement. No yelling, not demonstrations, no protests, no shooting, no shedding of blood. None of all that. And this happened in a city, where competing casinos, various political movements and even Chinese banks take up arms, shoot, kill and abduct people in broad daylight.

Shanghai is a city of surprises, where the most unexpected is possible.

For the Dutch this revolution or coup d’état was important because a Dutchman became a member, and so received control in the Settlement’s city council.

Up to now, the International Settlement was governed by a council, consisting of Englishmen, Americans, Japanese and Chinese. It could not be considered a city council from a European perspective, as this “council” cannot establish budgets or introduce new taxes. In these matters an assembly of taxpayers is leading, which is meeting at least once a year. This assembly of taxpayers was a gathering of many thousands of people, which has currently, after a proposal by the “council’s” chairman, taken away its own control and transfers it the true, although temporary city council, which consists of three Englishmen, three Americans, four Chinese, one Dutchman, one German and one Swiss. The elected Dutchman is Mr. J.S. Carrière, Java-China-Japan Line agent, who is highly esteemed with the various population groups in this highly international city, so we, the Dutch, can be very pleased with this choice. Because of his long residence in the city, Mr. Carrière is completely aware of the Settlement’s needs and the often-delicate issues that arise.

Chang or Wang?

The “bloodless” revolution, which brought change, is not fully completed. The Power’s approval is necessary, but there is no need for concern, because this change would not have been proposed, without the consular corps’ involvement.

Which Chinese will take seats in this city council? Will they be supporters of Chiang Kai-shek or friends or Wang Jingwei and so at the same time friends of the Japanese? Apparently, Wang Jingwei is prepared to accept only two seats for his supporters, but Chiang Kai-shek, so the “National Chinese government”, demands all four seats. And in this way, this “bloodless” revolution could become less bloodless, because the battle between Chiang Kai-shek and Wang Jingwei is also in Shanghai usually not fought without revolvers and daggers, as we have noticed lately with the disputes between banks who support the government in Nanjing (Wang Jingwei) and the banks who support the National government, in which there have already been deaths and injuries on both sides. In other countries, banking is a harmless profession. Not here in China. Trade schools should also teach the use of weapons, guns, revolvers and machine-guns.

The war between the banks is fought without mercy. Some weeks ago, a cashier of one of the banks was shot down by men of the other group of banks. Badly wounded he was taken to hospital, where he started to recover from his wounds. But then, armed men entered the hospital where he was treated, and they thoroughly killed him in his bed.

In the battle between the banks, not only shooting and stabbing takes place, but also kidnapping. A large part of the Bank of China’s staff, a Chiang Kai-shek bank, is living in a large common house, in the Japanese occupied part of the city, where the Wang Jingwei police force is in control. Some time ago, this building was surrounded by police early in the morning and the residents were arrested. This also happens in the battle between the banks. No less than thirty-seven banking people were taken away. Some of them were released shortly afterwards, but some are still in custody, and nobody knows where.

The Chiang Kai-shek banks are currently closed in Shanghai, but will soon again be open, when sufficient security measures have been taken. So, the “battle” will soon continue.

Judge a hazardous occupation

Not only banking is a hazardous occupation, also the profession of a (Chinese) judge is a risky. Judges in the Chinese courts in the International Settlement are appointed by the Chiang Kai-shek government. In the French Concession however, Wang Jingwei judges rule, as the French have given in to Japanese demands. Of course, the judging varies considerably because of this. An act which can lead to a capital punishment in the French Concession, can be awarded with a compliment in the International Settlement. The reverse can also apply. In courts in the French Concession, bombs have already been thrown at judges. And in the past couple of days, bomb attacks took place in the International Settlement, at the houses of three judges (Chiang Kai-shek related).

Last week I was woken up at night by a gunfight, which took place in a street near mine. Such a trifle is no reason to get out of bed over here. A few minutes later I was sound asleep again.

The next day I learned that the French police and Wang Jingwei police had been shooting at eachother. Of the Wang Jingwei men, one had been killed and some others wounded. No casualties at the French side. The explanation for this shooting in the middle of the city? It was a mistake I was told. Mistake? Well … Shanghai… anything is possible.

Notwithstanding these gunfights, murders, bomb attacks, obductions, people have celebrated Easter with much joy, for two weeks. First, there was the Easter of the western churches, and a week later there was the Easter of the Russians, Greeks, Romanians, Bulgarians and Serbs, which is celebrated with large quantities of food and drinks.

But also, musically Easter is celebrated with dignity. The city orchestra, enlarged for the occasion, gave a concert by mixed choir and soloists of Beethoven’s ninth symphony, which cannot be heard anywhere else in Asia.

Indeed (and it is forgotten too often), Shanghai is the musical capital of Asia.

(forbidden to copy)."

The gun shown in the photo is a Mauser C-96.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mauser_C96

"The Mauser C96 (Construktion 96) is a semi-automatic pistol that was originally produced by German arms manufacturer Mauser from 1896 to 1937. Unlicensed copies of the gun were also manufactured in Spain and China in the first half of the 20th century.

The distinctive characteristics of the C96 are the integral box magazine in front of the trigger, the long barrel, the wooden shoulder stock which gives it the stability of a short-barreled rifle and doubles as a holster or carrying case, and a grip shaped like the handle of a broom. The grip earned the gun the nickname "broomhandle" in the English-speaking world, because of its round wooden handle, and in China the C96 was nicknamed the "box cannon" (Chinese: 盒子炮; pinyin: hézipào) because of its rectangular internal magazine and the fact that it could be holstered in its wooden box-like detachable stock.

M1920 French police contract

The French government set up an order for 2,000 pistols with 99 millimetres (3.9 in) barrels for the Gendarmerie Nationale."

Courtesy Van Gelderen family archives; Dutch Royal Library

the world behind,

Braunschweig, Vapiano

at the time of "charak" or "gajon"(worshiping of god lord Siva) some people pierce their face and body with the needles as a part of the ritual or celebration of the festival.The amazing part is how priests pierce sharp hooks at the bodies of participating sannyasis almost without any cut or injury. The bloodless piercing of sharp metals in the human body by the practitioner priests looks like a magic act.

---- …. - …. -----

---- …. - …. -----

..........................................................................

-----------------------------------------------------------------

click to activate the icon of slideshow: the small triangle inscribed in the small rectangle, at the top right, in the photostream;

clicca sulla piccola icona per attivare lo slideshow: sulla facciata principale del photostream, in alto a destra c'è un piccolo rettangolo (rappresenta il monitor) con dentro un piccolo triangolo nero;

Qi Bo's photos on Fluidr

Qi Bo's photos on Flickriver

Qi Bo's photos on Flickr Hive Mind

www.fotografidigitali.it/gallery/2726/opere-italiane-segn...

-------------------------------------------------------------------

"U sciccareddu", from the Sicilian "the little donkey", is a pyrotechnical-animal mask, once present in many village feasts in the Messina area, today it is found only in a limited number of centers, among these is the town of Casalvecchio Siculo , a small town in the hinterland in which there is another animal figure, that of the "camiddu", in Sicilian "camel", and of his camel driver (see a photographic story of mine made earlier in this regard). The feast of the "sciccareddu-little donkey" sees a young man of the village wearing a metal supporting structure, on which takes place a whole series of fireworks: this represents with no little imagination the donkey (this year it was the "Camel driver" of the "camiddu-camel"feast which is always celebrated in Casalvecchio); the young man who carries this metal castle on himself, protects himself abundantly from pyrotechnic fires, which form "crazy wheels" in correspondence with the "four limbs", pyrotechnic fires that involve symbolic-ritual suggestions of ambiguous meaning, is the life against death, the light against darkness, the fear and the desire to challenge it, without ever forgetting the horrifying-ancestral aspect of the "beast", which represents the dark unknown evil, which always hovers over people's lives. There are those who have hypothesized that this asinello-monstrous-orrify is a very meek animal too, once very common and omnipresent in the Sicilian districts, so that the fears that it could generate are simultaneously suppressed by being a well-known animal and very meek.

This "sciccareddu-little donkey" with its load of pyrotechnic-crazy fires-bengal fires, and other crackling devilries, challenges and is challenged by all present, young and old coming also from far away, there is who looks but remaining well sheltered, many others instead challenge him, as in a bloodless bullfight, where some unlucky person can receive a few small burns (like myself, who found himself with some small burns in his legs, and a lens-protection filter, it was almost melted-burned in several points, now useless, but withe the lens without problems.....! :o)) .......).

“u sciccareddu”, dal siciliano “l’asinello”, è una maschera pirotecnica-animalesca, un tempo presente in molte feste paesane del territorio messinese, oggi la si ritrova solo in un numero limitato di centri, tra questi il paese di Casalvecchio Siculo, piccolo centro dell’entroterra nel quale si trova un’altra figura animalesca, quella del “camiddu”, in siciliano “cammello”, e del suo cammelliere (vedi un mio racconto fotografico fatto in precedenza in merito). La festa dello “sciccareddu-asinello” vede un giovane del paese indossare una struttura portante in metallo, sulla quale prende posto tutta una serie di giochi pirotecnici: questo rappresenta con non poca fantasia l’asinello (quest’anno a dargli vita è stato il “cammelliere” della festa del “camiddu-cammello” che si festeggia sempre a Casalvecchio); il giovane che porta su di se tale castello in metallo, si protegge abbondantemente dai fuochi pirotecnici, che formano delle “ruote pazze” in corrispondenza dei “quattro arti”, fuochi pirotecnici che comportano suggestioni simbolico-rituali dal significato ambiguo, è a vita contro la morte, la luce contro le tenebre, la paura e la voglia di sfidarla, senza mai dimenticare l’aspetto orrifico-ancestrale della “bestia”, che rappresenta l’oscuro ignoto male, che aleggia sempre sulla vita delle persone. C’è chi ha ipotizzato che tale asinello-mostruoso-orrifico è pur sempre un animale molto docile, un tempo comunissimo e onnipresente nelle contrade siciliane, per cui le paure che esso potrebbe generare sono contemporaneamente soppresse dall’essere un animale ben conosciuto ed in definitiva molto docile.

Tale “sciccareddu-asinello” col suo carico di fuochi pirotecnici-girandole pazze-bengala, ed altre diavolerie scoppiettanti, sfida e viene sfidato da tutti i presenti, giovani e meno giovani provenienti anche da lontano, c’è che vuole assitere rimanendo però bene al riparo, molti altri invece lo sfidano, come in una corrida incruenta, dove qualche malcapitato può rimediare qualche piccola bruciatura (come il sottoscritto, che si è ritrovato con qualche piccola bruciatura alle gambe, ed un filtro proteggi-obiettivo che, me ne accorsi successivamente, era quasi fuso-bruciato in più punti, oramai inservibile, con l’obiettivo però salvo….! :o)) …).

Details of the façade of the Winter Palace (part of the Hermitage), Saint Petersburg,, Russia

Some background information:

The Winter Palace is a palace and museum of art and culture in the city of Saint Petersburg. It is part of the Hermitage and situated between Palace Embankment and Palace Square. Today the Hermitage is the second-largest art museum in the world. Its collections, of which only a small part is on permanent display, comprise over three million items,, including the largest collection of paintings in the world. Apart from the Winter Palace, the Menshikov Palace, the Museum of Porcelain, a storage facility at Staraya Derevnya, and the eastern wing of the General Staff Building are also part of the museum. Of the six buildings in the main museum complex, five – namely the Winter Palace, the Small Hermitage, the Old Hermitage, the New Hermitage and the Hermitage Theatre – are open to the public.

Today’s palace is adjacent to the site of Tsar Peter the Great's original Winter Palace. The present and fourth Winter Palace was built and altered almost continuously between the late 1730s and 1837, when it was severely damaged by fire and immediately rebuilt. The storming of the palace in the Russian February Revolution of 1917, as depicted in Soviet paintings and Sergei Eisenstein's 1927 film October, became an iconic symbol of the Soviet Union.

The palace was constructed on a monumental scale that was intended to reflect the might and power of Imperial Russia. From the palace, the Tsar ruled over 22,400,000 square kilometres (8,600,000 square miles) and hence, over almost 1/6 of the earth's landmass) by the end of the 19th century. The green-and-white palace was designed by many architects, most notably Bartolomeo Rastrelli, in what came to be known as the Elizabethan Baroque style. It has the shape of an elongated rectangle, and its principal façade is 215 metres (705 feet) long and 30 m (98 feet) high. The Winter Palace has also been calculated to contain 1,786 doors, 1,945 windows, 1,500 rooms and 117 staircases.

The first Winter Palace, built between 1711 and 1712 on behalf of Tsar Peter the Great, was a modest building of two main floors under a slate roof. It was named Winter Palace, because it was intended to be Peter’s residence in the winters, in marked contrast to his summer residence Petehof Palace. As Peter soon became tired of the first building, its second version was already erected as from 1721. But it was still very modest compared to royal palaces in other European capitals. It was here that Peter the Great died in 1725.

After Peter’s grandson Peter II had become Tsar, the palace was greatly enlarged and redesigned by the Swiss-Italian architect Domenico Trezzini between 1727 and 1728. Trezzini expanded the existing Winter Palace to such an extent that the second palace became merely one of the two terminating pavilions of the new and third Winter Palace. Like the second, the third palace was built in the Petrine Baroque style. But shortly after it was completed, the Imperial Court left Saint Petersburg for Moscow, and the Winter Palace lost its status as the principal imperial residence.

The new Empress Anna, who reigned from 1730 to 1740, cared more for Saint Petersburg than her immediate predecessors. She re-established the Imperial court at the Winter Palace and, in 1732, Saint Petersburg again officially replaced Moscow as Russia's capital, a position it was to hold until 1918. In 1741, the infant Tsar Ivan VI, succeeding Anna in 1740, was soon deposed in a bloodless coup d'état by Grand Duchess Elizabeth, a daughter of Peter the Great. During her reign, Bartolomeo Rastrelli devised an entirely new scheme in 1753, on a colossal scale: the present Winter Palace.

The expedited completion of the palace became a matter of honour to the Empress, who regarded the palace as a symbol of national prestige. Work on the building continued throughout the year, even in the severest months of the winter. By 1759, shortly before Elizabeth's death, a Winter Palace truly worthy of the name was nearing completion.

In 1762, following a coup d'état, in which her husband was murdered,, Catherine the Great, paraded her seven-year-old son, Paul, on the Winter Palace's balcony to an excited crowd below. But she was not presenting her son as the new and rightful ruler of Russia, as that honour she was usurping herself. Tsarina Catharine soon commissioned the palace to be further enlarged and transformed. She was also responsible for the three large adjoining palaces, known collectively as the Hermitage – the name by which the entire complex, including the Winter Palace, was to become known 150 years later.

The interior of the Hermitage wing was intended to be a simple contrast to that of the Winter Palace. Indeed, it is said that the concept of the Hermitage as a retreat was suggested to Catherine by that advocate of the simple life, Jean Jacques Rousseau. In reality, it was another large palace in itself, connected to the main palace by a series of covered walkways and heated courtyards in which flew rare exotic birds. But Catherine also acquired several extensive art collections, among them the collections of Horace Walpole and John Lyde-Brown. As the Winter Palace filled with art, it more and more overflowed into the Hermitage.

After the death of Catherine the Great in 1796, the Hermitage became a private treasure house of the Tsars, who continued collecting, albeit not on the scale of Catherine the Great. In 1850, an important collection from the Republic of Venice was brought into the Winter Palace. It was Tsar Nicholas I, who vastly expanded and transformed Catherine’s Large Hermitage Building into a purpose-built public art gallery. After eleven years of building, the first art museum in Russia, the Imperial Hermitage Museum, opened on 5th February 1852.

The last Tsar to truly reside in the palace was Alexander II, who ruled from 1855 to 1881, when he was assassinated. Following his death, the Winter Palace was never truly inhabited again. From that point on, the Imperial Family resided at the Anichkov Palace when being in Saint Petersburg. However, the Winter Palace was still used for official functions.

In 1894, Nicholas II was enthroned. History has shown that he was the last Tsar of Imperial Russia. On 22nd January 1905, an incident took place that became known as the Bloody Sunday massacre. During a demonstration march of workers towards the Winter Palace, about 1,000 women, men and children were killed or injured by shooting tsaristic troops. This massacre was the catalyst of the Russian Revolution of 1905, which led to constitutional reform, including the establishment of the Russian legislative assembly State Duma.

During the Russian February Revolution of 1917, in which Tsar Nicholas II was forced to abdicate, the Russian Provisional Government, led by Alexander Kerensky, based itself in the northwest corner of the Winter Palace. However, most of the state rooms were occupied by a military hospital. It was to be just a short occupation of both palace and power. By 25th October 1917, the provisional government was failing and, realising the palace was a target for the more militant Bolsheviks, ordered its defence. It barricaded itself in the palace, assisted by a few remaining loyal servants, who had formerly served the Tsar.

In a state of siege, the Winter Palace entered the most turbulent period in its history. Five thousand sailors newly arrived from Kronstadt were deployed to attack the palace, while the cruiser Aurora positioned itself on the Neva, all its guns targeted at the Winter Palace. Across the water, the Bolsheviks captured the Peter and Paul Fortress and also turned its artillery towards the besieged building. Inside the palace the provisional government, now impotent, was nervously surveying the scenes outside.

At 7:00 pm, the Government held its last meeting in the Malachite Room, with the telephone and all contact with the outside world disconnected. A short debate determined that they would not leave the palace to attempt dialogue with the hostile crowds outside. With the palace completely surrounded and sealed, the Aurora began her bombardment of the great Neva façade as the Government refused an ultimatum to surrender. Further machine gun and light artillery fire were directed at the palace as the Bolsheviks gained entry via His Majesty's own staircase. In the ensuing battle there were casualties on both sides until the Bolsheviks finally, by 2:00 am, had control of the palace.

Leaving a trail of destruction, they searched room after room before arresting the Provisional Government in Small Dining Room of the private apartments, from where they were taken to imprisonment in the fortress across the river. Kerensky managed to evade arrest and escape to Pskov, where he rallied some loyal troops for an attempt to retake the capital. His troops were able to capture Tsarskoe Selo, but were beaten the next day at Pulkovo.

The Winter Palace was now a redundant and damaged building symbolic of a despised regime, facing an uncertain future. Howevern, on 30th October 1917, the palace was declared to be part of the Hermitage public museums. This first exhibition to be held in the Winter Palace concerned the history of the revolution, and the public were able to view the private rooms of the Imperial Family.

Following the Revolution, there was a policy of removing all Imperial emblems from the palace, including those on the stonework, plaster-work and iron work. After the Siege of Leningrad which lasted from 1941 to 1944, when the palace was damaged, a restoration policy was enacted, which has fully restored the palace. Furthermore, as the Russian Government does not categorically shun remnants of the Imperial Era as was the case during Soviet rule, the palace has since also had the emblems of the Romanovs restored. The Winter Palace is no longer the hub of a great empire, and the Romanovs no longer reside there, but the crowned Russian eagle serves again as a reminder of the palace's Imperial history. Today, as part of one of the world's best known museums, the Winter Palace attracts an annual 3.5 million visitors.