View allAll Photos Tagged ChasingLight
The majority allowed the dogma. They idled and retreated into nothingness where they will stay.
Others wouldn't comply. These individuals grew in one way or another.
Disconnected from the irrelevant, they too remain faceless, but by choice.
"There is no telling how many miles you will have to run while chasing a dream."
~mrkodak,
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Thanks fo your comment(s) and fave(s).
Used the hi-ball glass again. Put a glow stick in the glass and white EI wire around the base of the glass. Used the laser pen to add the swirl.
Added two texture layers, removed all the color except for the pink. Created some overlays.
“Nietzsche also proposed a second kind of tourism, whereby we may learn how our societies and identities have been formed by the past and so acquire a sense of continuity and belonging.
The person practising this kind of tourism ‘looks beyond his own individual transitory existence and feels himself to be the spirit of his house, his race, his city’.
He can gaze at old buildings and feel ‘the happiness of knowing that he is not wholly accidental and arbitrary but grown out of a past as its heir, flower, and fruit, and that his existence is thus excused and indeed justified'.”
—The Art of Travel by Alain de Botton
|| collab with the lovely @m_dunc, because I miss her and our adventures, and because she's in Switzerland #chasinglight without me. Brb going to Switzerland... ||
Downieville, CA - Afternoon walk with the dogs & a few family members on Thanksgiving Day. Several days of snow had fallen and things were just starting to let up. Quiet Magical Snow everywhere & on everything. Fresh test roll of #kodakektar100 through a newly acquired hand me down #minoltax570 - Minolta Cameras & Glass have a definitive look and are highly underrated in my book. Minolta X-570? = Keeper.
“Standing on the snow-covered plain, as if in a pasture amid the hills, I cut my way first through a foot of snow, and then a foot of ice, and open a window under my feet, where, kneeling to drink, I look down into the quiet parlour of the fishes, pervaded by a softened light as through a window of ground glass, with its bright sanded floor the same as in summer; there a perennial waveless serenity reigns as in the amber twilight sky, corresponding to the cool and even temperament of the inhabitants.
Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.”
— Walden (1854) by Henry David Thoreau
(Chapter 16: The Pond in Winter)
When the museum architecture is as inspiring as this, what’s exhibited has to be grand. The Joslyn did not disappoint. Omaha, Nebraska. Sister is on 49/50 states before the 31st anniversary of her 29th birthday in June ‘26.
How many stories does the lines on the face hold? And how many things have these eyes seen?
Never fault a man with a dream.
A story of Mr Yau. forty-forty.com
"Love is the most important thing in life, and it happens when you least expect it" ❤️ —Diane Kruger
⋅ (Article reading www.townandcountrymag.com/a6656)
“Standing on the snow-covered plain, as if in a pasture amid the hills, I cut my way first through a foot of snow, and then a foot of ice, and open a window under my feet, where, kneeling to drink, I look down into the quiet parlour of the fishes, pervaded by a softened light as through a window of ground glass, with its bright sanded floor the same as in summer; there a perennial waveless serenity reigns as in the amber twilight sky, corresponding to the cool and even temperament of the inhabitants.
Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.”
— Walden (1854) by Henry David Thoreau
(Chapter 16: The Pond in Winter)
“In the morning I bathe my intellect in the stupendous and cosmogonal philosophy of the Bhagavad gita, since whose composition years of the gods have elapsed, and in comparison with which our modern world and its literature seem puny and trivial; and I doubt if that philosophy is not to be referred to a previous state of existence, so remote is its sublimity from our conceptions.
I lay down the book and go to my well for water, and lo! there I meet the servant of the Bramin, priest of Brahma and Vishnu and Indra, who still sits in his temple on the Ganges reading the Vedas, or dwells at the root of a tree with his crust and water jug. I meet his servant come to draw water for his master, and our buckets as it were grate together in the same well. The pure Walden water is mingled with the sacred water of the Ganges.”
― Henry David Thoreau, Walden: Or, Life in the Woods
☾ “I have noticed that when all the lights are on, people tend to talk about what they are doing – their outer lives.
Sitting round in candlelight or firelight, people start to talk about how they are feeling – their inner lives. They speak subjectively, they argue less, there are longer pauses.
To sit alone without any electric light is curiously creative. I have my best ideas at dawn or at nightfall, but not if I switch on the lights – then I start thinking about projects, deadlines, demands, and the shadows and shapes of the house become objects, not suggestions, things that need to done, not a background to thought.”
— Why I Adore the Night ☾ (Jeanette Winterson)
sakura (桜) cherry blossom air さくら 🌸🍃
Time after time
Alone in the city of whirling blossoms
Those petals fly in the whirling wind
The miracle of meeting you
In a city where the wind whispered through
The hanamidou tells of the end of spring
One petal from this misty flower.
Time After Time (花舞う街で) // In the Street of Dancing Flowers — Mai Kuraki
[theme song for Detective Conan: Crossroad in the Ancient Capital]
Walking on foot brings you down to the very stark, naked core of existence. We travel too much in airplanes and cars. It’s an existential quality that we are losing. It’s almost like a credo of religion that we should walk.
There is, of course, something inherently romantic—if not heroic—about the extreme solitary explorer enveloped by nature. The very image of Herzog on foot recalls the iconic 19th-century paintings of Caspar David Friedrich, especially his Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog, with its lone figure staring out at the wide vista above the clouds.
'Truth itself wanders through the forests,' Herzog writes near the end. Yet here he embroiders his memories for effect: The vast swath of geography between Munich and Paris is littered with industrial towns and cities.
Once he comes out on the other end, traversing the deforested Champs-Élysées (“We were close to what they call the breath of danger”), Herzog emerges victorious.
― Of Walking in Ice: (Munich-Paris, 23 November–14 December 1974)
by Werner Herzog
View large here farm4.static.flickr.com/3506/4022547526_1bb57a0d49_o.jpg
Patience and perseverance is an utmost trait of a landscape photographer. Catching the perfect timing and details. May your filter and gears be soaked for that 1 shot that would make a scene timeless and memorable.
This was taken somewhere in Anilao. The wave itself hitting the rock was more than 6-8ft high. The rock I was shooting from was about my height. At that view point, I waited for one big wave to come and just snapped away. The wave ricocheted and was heading directly to my gear, I grabbed it and used my back to shield my gear.
Drenched but happy.
Haruki Murakami's— "On Seeing the 100% Perfect Girl One Beautiful April Morning" #💕☔#🌿☁
...
One beautiful April morning, in search of a cup of coffee to start the day, the boy was walking from west to east, while the girl, intending to send a special-delivery letter, was walking from east to west, but along the same narrow street in the Harajuku neighborhood of Tokyo. They passed each other in the very center of the street. The faintest gleam of their lost memories glimmered for the briefest moment in their hearts. Each felt a rumbling in their chest. And they knew:
She is the 100% perfect girl for me.
He is the 100% perfect boy for me.
But the glow of their memories was far too weak, and their thoughts no longer had the clarity of fouteen years earlier. Without a word, they passed each other, disappearing into the crowd. Forever.
A sad story, don’t you think?
Yes, that’s it, that is what I should have said to her. .
.
Source: Gravitytrope | On Seeing the 100% Perfect Girl One Beautiful April Morning — Haruki Murakami