View allAll Photos Tagged Crossing
I dont know who the photographer of this was I bought the photo at a boot sale, It is the Cressely Arms level crossing Mountain Ash probably from the 50s. I have another shot of this from 2010 in this set of 3
Taken and originally posted in 2015.
Storm clouds seemed to be gathering over the German countryside as our ICE (InterCity Express) train was taking us to Mannheim from Berlin, the first leg of our trip to Paris.
Fifty years hence, others will see tham as they cross, the sun half and hour
high,
A hundred years hence, or ever so many hundred years hence, others will see
them,
Will enjoy the sunset, the pouring-in of the flood-tide, the falling-back to
the sea of the ebb-tide.
-Whitman
...
Crossings
Part of an exhibition @OSCC13 & InWorldz
MetaTrame Project-PralineB.
Photos are taken in Dakar, Senegal & in the metaverse.
The HRT Wear and Wensley Dalesman rail tour, 2G20 seen crossing the River Swale on the return from Redmire, 19th October 1985.
The old bridge over River Parvati is so scary that you cannot stand in the centre and watch the river below. The sheer power of the water is overwhelming.The bad condition of the bridge requires only one person crossing at a time.
Rail Road Crossing, Broadway Avenue, Mystic, Connecticut; © 2025, T. P. Hazard; SOOC
Shot with Fuji X Weekly's Classic Kodak film simulation recipe
Talk: Gender Equality & Film Business: A never-ending Story?
Hanne Lassl (director ROSI, KURT & KONI), Maite Garcia Ribot (director LETTER TO MARIA)
Foto: Christoph Thorwartl / www.subtext.at
Crossing the open border between Liechtenstein and Switzerland (hence the sign on the right with the swiss cross) to get to the swiss highway on my way to work in the morning. A few miles down the highway I then cross back into Liechtenstein.
June 12, 2010
Walking over the Brooklyn Bridge, I always think of Walt Whitman's "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry", perhaps the most poignant thing ever written about the city - It's amazing how it still resonates 160 years later-
1
Flood-tide below me! I watch you face to face;
Clouds of the west! sun there half an hour high! I see you also face to face.
Crowds of men and women attired in the usual costumes! how curious you
are to me!
On the ferry-boats, the hundreds and hundreds that cross, returning home,
are more curious to me than you suppose;
And you that shall cross from shore to shore years hence, are more to me,
and more in my meditations, than you might suppose.
2
The impalpable sustenance of me from all things, at all hours of the day;
The simple, compact, well-join'd scheme—myself disintegrated,
every one disintegrated, yet part of the scheme:
The similitudes of the past, and those of the future;
The glories strung like beads on my smallest sights and hearings—
on the walk in the street, and the passage over the river;
The current rushing so swiftly, and swimming with me far away;
The others that are to follow me, the ties between me and them;
The certainty of others—the life, love, sight, hearing of others.
Others will enter the gates of the ferry, and cross from shore to shore;
Others will watch the run of the flood-tide;
Others will see the shipping of Manhattan north and west, and the heights
of Brooklyn to the south and east;
Others will see the islands large and small;
Fifty years hence, others will see them as they cross, the sun half an
hour high;
A hundred years hence, or ever so many hundred years hence, others will
see them,
Will enjoy the sunset, the pouring in of the flood-tide, the falling back
to the sea of the ebb-tide.
3
It avails not, neither time or place—distance avails not;
I am with you, you men and women of a generation, or ever so
many generations hence;
I project myself—also I return—I am with you, and know how
it is.
Just as you feel when you look on the river and sky, so I felt;
Just as any of you is one of a living crowd, I was one of a crowd;
Just as you are refresh'd by the gladness of the river and the bright flow,
I was refresh'd;
Just as you stand and lean on the rail, yet hurry with the swift current,
I stood, yet was hurried;
Just as you look on the numberless masts of ships, and the thick-stem'd
pipes of steamboats, I look'd.
I too many and many a time cross'd the river, the sun half an hour high;
I watched the Twelfth-month sea-gulls—I saw them high in the air,
floating with motionless wings, oscillating their bodies,
I saw how the glistening yellow lit up parts of their bodies, and left the rest
in strong shadow,
I saw the slow-wheeling circles, and the gradual edging toward the south.
I too saw the reflection of the summer sky in the water,
Had my eyes dazzled by the shimmering track of beams,
Look'd at the fine centrifugal spokes of light around the shape of my head
in the sun-lit water,
Look'd on the haze on the hills southward and southwestward,
Look'd on the vapor as it flew in fleeces tinged with violet,
Look'd toward the lower bay to notice the arriving ships,
Saw their approach, saw aboard those that were near me,
Saw the white sails of schooners and sloops—saw the ships at anchor,
The sailors at work in the rigging, or out astride the spars,
The round masts, the swinging motion of the hulls, the slender serpentine
pennants,
The large and small steamers in motion, the pilots in their pilot-houses,
The white wake left by the passage, the quick tremulous whirl of the wheels,
The flags of all nations, the falling of them at sun-set,
The scallop-edged waves in the twilight, the ladled cups, the frolicsome crests
and glistening,
The stretch afar growing dimmer and dimmer, the gray walls of the granite
store-houses by the docks,
On the river the shadowy group, the big steam-tug closely flank'd on each
side by the barges—the hay-boat, the belated lighter,
On the neighboring shore, the fires from the foundry chimneys burning high
and glaringly into the night,
Casting their flicker of black, contrasted with wild red and yellow light, over
the tops of houses, and down into the clefts of streets.
4
These, and all else, were to me the same as they are to you;
I project myself a moment to tell you—also I return.
I loved well those cities;
I loved well the stately and rapid river;
The men and women I saw were all near to me;
Others the same—others who look back on me, because I look'd
forward to them;
(The time will come, though I stop here to-day and to-night.)
5
What is it, then, between us?
What is the count of the scores or hundreds of years between us?
Whatever it is, it avails not—distance avails not, and place avails not.
6
I too lived—Brooklyn, of ample hills, was mine;
I too walk'd the streets of Manhattan Island, and bathed in the waters
around it;
I too felt the curious abrupt questionings stir within me,
In the day, among crowds of people, sometimes they came upon me,
In my walks home late at night, or as I lay in my bed, they came upon me.
I too had been struck from the float forever held in solution;
I too had receiv'd identity by my Body;
That I was, I knew was of my body—and what I should be,
I knew I should be of my body.
7
It is not upon you alone the dark patches fall,
The dark threw patches down upon me also;
The best I had done seem'd to me blank and suspicious;
My great thoughts, as I supposed them, were they not in reality meagre?
would not people laugh at me?
It is not you alone who know what it is to be evil;
I am he who knew what it was to be evil;
I too knitted the old knot of contrariety,
Blabb'd, blush'd, resented, lied, stole, grudg'd,
Had guile, anger, lust, hot wishes I dared not speak,
Was wayward, vain, greedy, shallow, sly, cowardly, malignant;
The wolf, the snake, the hog, not wanting in me,
The cheating look, the frivolous word, the adulterous wish, not wanting,
Refusals, hates, postponements, meanness, laziness, none of these wanting.
8
But I was Manhattanese, friendly and proud!
I was call'd by my nighest name by clear loud voices of young men
as they saw me approaching or passing,
Felt their arms on my neck as I stood, or the negligent leaning of their flesh
against me as I sat,
Saw many I loved in the street, or ferry-boat, or public assembly, yet never
told them a word,
Lived the same life with the rest, the same old laughing, gnawing, sleeping,
Play'd the part that still looks back on the actor or actress,
The same old role, the role that is what we make it, as great as we like,
Or as small as we like, or both great and small.
9
Closer yet I approach you;
What thought you have of me, I had as much of you—I laid in my stores in advance;
I consider'd long and seriously of you before you were born.
Who was to know what should come home to me?
Who knows but I am enjoying this?
Who knows but I am as good as looking at you now, for all you cannot
see me?
It is not you alone, nor I alone;
Not a few races, nor a few generations, nor a few centuries;
It is that each came, or comes, or shall come, from its due emission,
From the general centre of all, and forming a part of all:
Everything indicates—the smallest does, and the largest does;
A necessary film envelopes all, and envelopes the Soul for a proper time
Tokyo
Shibuya
Shibuya crossing
Wikipedia:
Shibuya is famous for its scramble crossing. It is located in front of the Shibuya Station Hachikō exit and stops vehicles in all directions to allow pedestrians to inundate the entire intersection. The statue of Hachikō, a dog, between the station and the intersection, is a common meeting place and almost always crowded.
Three large TV screens mounted on nearby buildings overlook the crossing, as well as many advertising signs. The Starbucks store overlooking the crossing is also one of the busiest in the world. Its heavy traffic and inundation of advertising has led to it being compared to the Times Square intersection in New York City. Tokyo-based architecture professor Julian Worrall has said Shibuya Crossing is 'a great example of what Tokyo does best when it’s not trying'.
Chance and Rolo on their noon walk. Two standard poodles. Two old codgers.
Canon Canonet QL 17
Kodak BW400CN
11/12/2016 Pedestrians at a crossing in 8th Avenue Chinatown. Sony a7. Carl Zeiss Planar 45mm 1:2.0.
A wonderful 1933 WWI war memorial window by Catherine (known as Kitty) O’Brien, a member of the An Túr Gloine (Tower of Glass) Irish stained glass co-operative, which she joined in 1906. The window depicts the final verse of Tennyson’s poem Crossing the Bar:
For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the Bar.
The window is in St. Multose, Kinsale, Co. Cork, in Ireland, and commemorates Edward Crump Dorman (who died in Gallipoli) and Thomas Stephen Lewis Dorman.
~ gentle graphic rendering ~
- - press L to view large / click on pic to zoom
~ Crossing on the Chesapeake Bay Bridge/Tunnel ~
My journey back north now took me to the Chesapeake Bay Bridge which I was excited to experience. Two separate tunnels take you under the water and back up again - a bridge so long you can't see the other end. There is a "rest stop" where you can get out to take in the view, even a restaurant and gift shop. The cold and powerful gusts of wind and the dark sky made it nearly impossible to take any photos. But I managed a few shots, barely and not good enough to post. Maybe someday I will get another chance.
Prince of Wales Bridge (the second Severn crossing) carrying the M4 motorway over the River Severn near to Bristol. The Second Severn Crossing marks the upper limit of the Severn Estuary and was renamed the Prince of Wales Bridge in July 2018.
Strathcarron Level Crossing after the barriers were added to upgrade it from automatic open to automatic half-barriers.
Railway Crossing gates at Victor Harbor, South Australia. Whilst regular passenger services ceased in 1984, the line continues to be used by heritage trains operated by SteamRanger. The gates are operated manually when trains arrive/depart Victor Harbor station.