View allAll Photos Tagged Dedicated
My Dear Friend:
I want to give you a present, a beautiful Tulip, that when I saw it during my trip, I really took the shot thinking of you, because it reminds me your beautiful garden...
I hope you get well soon, take your time...
I send you a big huge that make you feel how much I care...
Nathalie, as soon as I saw this I started thinking of you and of bulldogs, well it's not a bulldog but still it's so cute
Happy Birthday to an artistic, special and beautiful girl! Love from your great-aunt and uncle, Annette and Jerry
Digitally Altered
Dedicated to tonialon. Thank you so much for your wonderful testimonial Toni :-) www.flickr.com/photos/tonialon/
Today is the seventh anniversary of being together with my partner Stephen. We have had our ups and downs during this time, but he means the world to me.
Thank you for everything Stephen, and this is for you...
Dedicated to all the NHS staff who are in the front line
and risking their own lives in helping others fighting Coronavirus. Also, to all the other professionals working so hard to find a vaccine. May God bless you all and keep you safe. I am proud of each and everyone of you. Thank you xx
Dedicated to Klaus Allmannsberger Photography (http://www.flickr.com/photos/allmannsberger/). Thank you so much for your nice testimonial :-)
Dedicated to Ray of Peace (Kiran Nasir - www.flickr.com/photos/rayofpeace/) to say hello and welcome her to this photostream
- Tranquillité d'esprit
"A birthday is just the first day of another 365-day journey around the sun. Enjoy the trip."
...HAPPY BIRTHDAY...
DediCated To NESCAFE !~ < a7san mu9awirat woody i have ever seen or heard =)
ma gedart aqawimha :p
ne6raw bajee el kitchen photos after the exams ..
BRB again !~
comments with ur latest photos will be absolutly deleted =)
- Dedicated to all grandmas of Flickr familiar to Pensive galance
- Accomplissement
Dedicacée à toutes les mémés du Flickr familières de Pensive glance
Dedicated to Saint Peter and located on the path to Compostela (and therefore a UNESCO World Heritage site), the Benedictine abbey of Moissac was founded in the 700s. According to legend, it was founded even earlier, in 506, by the freshly converted Clovis, King of the Franks, but there is no historical evidence that this ever happened. Affiliated to Cluny from 1047, it became the most powerful monastery of southwestern France and numbered over 1,000 monks —most likely including lay brothers, though.
There is so much to say about the abbey of Moissac that I will, for the most part, refer my readers to the many lengthy internet pages that describe it, not to mention of course the Quercy roman book by Zodiaque. The most famous parts are the stunning tympanum, the iconic statue of Saint Jeremy and the Year 1100 cloister with its 7- capitals, most of them historied. All of those are masterpieces fo Romanesque art and known worldwide.
The abbey was on the very first list of Historic Landmarks in 1840. It is an absolute must-see for all people interested in the Middle Ages, and we will devote quite a few days to its visit.
The sets of twin columns (alternating with single ones) and the capitals in the cloister.
Dedicated to Lucy, without you she wouldn't be the same. Thanks for bringing the color to her skin ;)
Dedicated To My Friend saghar
از صدای سخن عشق ندیدم خوشتر - اگه عاشقي يه درده كيه اين دردونديده؟ تو بگو كه كدوم عاشق رنج دوري نكشيده؟
Dedicated to love, however shape, gender and sexual orientation it comes on...
DUMBO,
Brooklyn, New York
July 24th 2011 (Taken on the very first day where same-sex marriage became actually legal in NY state, with about 800 couples getting married in NYC only that historic day.
© Sion Fullana
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
DO NOT use or reproduce without my explicit permission. Thanks
Dedicated: Work by »Nize«, spotted in the Dedicated BackYard at night. – Early October 2013.
Thanx to Babak and the Shop-Crew.
A couple of days ago I met this young man walking his baby dog..They seemed to have a great friendship,which I'm sure will be lifelong :) After reading the moving story Jacii posted below his awesome shot,I thought it could symbolize that friendship... Unfortunately ,if there's nobody at home to help me ,I cannot do even the simplest things such as posting the link of my contacts ..I expect Jacii will help me with that ..or by showing his presence with that beautiful yet sad story he'll make his address known..
Sevgili arkadaşlar,
Bir iki gün önce bu ikilinin arasında ,belli ki hayat boyu sürecek bir dostluğa şahit oldum
Jacii'nin resmi altındaki etkileyici öyküyü okuduktan sonra o dostluğu sembolize edeceğini düşünerek bu kareyi yüklemeye karar verdim...ne yazık ki link yüklemeyi beceremiyorum...jacii'nin bana bu konuda yardımcı olmasını bekliyorum...Ancak öyküyü buraya eklerse de Türkçe'sini bulmam mümkün değil..Çok özür dilerim !
The Old Man and the Dog
by
Catherine Moore
"Watch out! You nearly broad sided that car!" My father yelled at me.
"Can't you do anything right?"
Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle.
"I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at me when I'm driving." My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt.
Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back. At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts. Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil.
What could I do about him?
Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon. He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack
competitions, and had placed often. The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowess.
The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy log, he joked about it;
but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had done as a younger man.
Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to
the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing. At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky; he survived.
But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow doctor's orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone.
My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We
hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust. Within a week
after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was
satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody.
Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We began to bicker and argue.
Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman
set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he
prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind. But the months wore on and
God was silent. Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it
The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called
each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my
problem to each of the sympathetic voices that answered. In vain. Just when I
was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, "I just read
something that might help you! Let me go get the article." I listened as she
read. The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home All of
the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes
had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog.
I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a
questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of
disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained
five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted
dogs all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one
after the other for various reasons too big, too small, too much hair. As I
neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his
feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of
the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed. Years had
etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hipbones jutted out in
lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention.
Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly. I pointed to the dog. "Can
you tell me about him?" The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement.
"He's a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow." He gestured helplessly.
As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. "You mean you're going to kill him?"
"Ma'am," he said gently, "that's our policy. We don't have room for every unclaimed dog."
I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. "I'll take him," I said.
I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch.
"Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!" I said excitedly.
Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. "If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I
don't want it" Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house.
Anger rose inside me. It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples.
"You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!" Dad ignored me. "Did you hear me, Dad?" I screamed. At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate.
We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw.
Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal.
It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne. Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty
lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for
tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting
in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet.
Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends. Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night. I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.
Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a
favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's peace of mind.
The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see
the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church. The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life. And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. "Be not forgetful to entertain strangers."
"I've often thanked God for sending that angel," he said.
For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right article...
Cheyenne's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter... his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father...and the proximity of their deaths. And suddenly I understood.
I knew that God had answered my prayers after all.
Life is too short for drama & petty things, so laugh hard, love truly and forgive quickly.
Live While You Are Alive.
Tell the people you love that you love them, at every opportunity.
Forgive now those who made you cry. You might not get a second time.
And if you don't send this to at least 4 people - who cares? But do share this with someone.
Lost time can never be found .
#278 July 22,2008 Thank you all :)
Dedicated to my flickr friends with all the awesome birds in their gardens...Barb, Carol, Arlene ..Tank .....and all, this is what I have in my garden, they visit every day, and no, we do not feed them, they live from what ever they find in our gardens..
practice continued during a short snow storm. I'm going to practice more soccer pics.
in spring. :-)
88/365
DEDICATED TO MY GOOD FRIEND GIANNIS FAFOUTIS, PHOTOGRAPHER, AWARD WINNING RESEARCHER & AUTHOR, IN LIMNI.
ΑΦΙΕΡΩΜΕΝΗ ΣΤΟΝ ΚΑΛΟ ΜΟΥ ΦΙΛΟ ΓΙΑΝΝΗ ΦΑΦΟΥΤΗ, ΦΩΤΟΓΡΑΦΟ, ΒΡΑΒΕΥΜΕΝΟ ΕΡΕΥΝΗΤΗ ΚΑΙ ΣΥΓΓΡΑΦΕΑ, ΚΑΤΟΙΚΟ ΛΙΜΝΗΣ.
From left to right: My wife Theresa, Giannis, and myself.
Taken during the long "May Day" weekend, while my beloved English wife Theresa Jane Brown and I were visiting friends on the beautiful island of Evia, Greece.
The Community of Limni, Evia Island, Greece, decided to combine celebrations for the International Day of Dance (April 29th, 2015) with the May Day long weekend and organized this wonderful event with dances from the mid 1920's - 1940's.
Various displays were set up with objects from the era and historic B/W photographs of the towns gatherings during these times! Refreshments were available for all!
LIMNI - ΛΙΜΝΗ
Limni, on the island of Evia, is a small port, beach and tourist resort, which is beautiful the whole year round. It is located 80 km NW of Chalkida and about 150 km from Athens.
The island of Evia lies along the Eastern coast of Central Greece, and is accessible to the mainland via two bridges, an old wooden bridge and a contemporary suspension bridge. There are also frequent ferries to several parts of the island. It is 175 km long and is the second largest island in Greece, and the third largest in the Eastern Mediterranean.
Thanassis Fournarakos - Θανασης Φουρναρακος
Professional Photographer, retired.
Athens, Greece.
© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
None of my images may be downloaded, copied, reproduced, manipulated or used on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit written permission. THANK YOU!
This photograph has achieved the following highest awards:
* GALAXY HALL OF FAME
This album's name is dedicated to my favourite game of all time Elder Scrolls Online and race of all time, The Argonians (reptile humanoids). There's a story for you to read below about some of them towards the bottom.
What does Ku Vastei mean? Read below
By Lights-the-Way, Mystic of the Mages Guild
It is hard to describe the culture of my people. Often my tongue stumbles as I try to explain, but it is my hope that ink and quill will give me time enough to gather my thoughts. And perhaps, though such writing, I will finally connect the parts of me that now feel so divided; my homeland of Murkmire and my new life within the Mages Guild.
These journals are to become my ku-vastei. And, as I write that, I can think of no better topic to begin with.
Ku-vastei roughly translates to "the catalyst of needed change," though such a direct translation in no way does justice to the original meaning. Another translation could be "that which creates the needed pathway for change to occur" or even "the spark which ignites the flame which must come into being."
Perhaps a more direct analysis should be first presented. Ku-vastei is a noun, a thing or person. Vastei directly translates to change, an important part of my culture. Ku is harder to speak of. It is that which leads to change, though not that which creates change. An important role, as stagnation is a fate worse than death.
Take a boulder which sits atop a cliff, teetering in place. It must fall eventually. The ku-vastei does not push the boulder off the cliff; rather, it picks the pebble which holds the rock in place. And so it falls, not by a push, but by a pathway cleared.
Ku-vastei is revered, just as change itself is revered, for to look back at what was means to stumble as you move forward. Sometimes, a little push in the right direction is all someone needs to remember such wisdom. Other times, they may need to be shoved.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Naka Desh Tribe
by Emmanubeth Hurrent, the Wayfarers' Society of Wayrest
My guide, Names-the-Orchids, took me deep into the swamp to meet a little-known tribe called the Naka-Desh, or Riverbacks. Few Imperials venture far enough into Black Marsh to meet the People of the River, and the Naka-Desh see little benefit in traveling beyond the boundaries of their Hist's roots. For that reason, most perceive them as a secretive and mysterious tribe. This misconception is made all the more amusing by the Riverbacks' boundless hospitality.
We approached the Riverbacks' territory via ferry boats. Our expedition encountered tribal sentries almost immediately. They floated to the surface of the water like turtles or crocodiles. I was struck by the wideness of their faces, the largeness of their eyes, and the broad webs adorning their forearms and throats. The Hist clearly provided the "right skin" for the locale. Riverback territory is more water than land—a drowned marsh navigable by small rafts, canoes, and little else.
Names-the-Orchids greeted them with a series of low croaks. They cheerfully repeated the sound before lifting themselves onto our boat. Neither of the sentries seemed familiar with Cyrodilic, so our guide had to interpret. She told us that the Riverbacks demanded tribute in the form of a riddle before they would grant passage. I detected no threat behind the demand. It seemed like more of an invitation than an order. I've no talent for wordplay, but I shared a children's riddle about doorknobs that practically every Imperial knows. As soon as Names-the-Orchids translated it, the two sentries clapped their hands. One of them pressed his forehead to mine, croaked twice, then both vanished into the water as suddenly as they appeared.
We spent four days among the Riverbacks—all but one of them on rafts fishing. Riverback fishing resembles traditional fishing in name only. Rather than hook and line, the Naka-Desh use large river fish called osheeja gars. Each osheeja is secured by a strange harness and bridle. When the Argonians find an abundant fishing spot, they release the predatory gars and let them snatch up the fish. As soon as an osheeja bites a fish, the Argonians pull their pets to the side of the boat and claim the fish for themselves. I asked Names-the-Orchids how it works. Apparently, the bridle prevents the gar from swallowing. She assured me that the osheejas are well-cared for, though. Until they grow too old, of course, whereupon they too are eaten.
Our time with the Riverbacks was not without frustration. Of all the Argonians I have met, the Naka-Desh were by far the least curious. Other than riddles, they had no appetite for anything we brought. They refused our food, took no particular interest in our tales, and did not even ask for our names. This disinterest combined with their boundless hospitality made most of the expedition uncomfortable. Names-the-Orchids chided us for thinking kindness demands reciprocity. As always, even these small disappointments teach us valuable lessons.
["the tribe is not currently in the game but in the world of the game"]
Dedicated: Character by »Biadge«, spotted in the Dedicated Backyard at night. – Mid July 2016. # Thanks to ›Babak‹ for support.
Dedicated to Jamal Alayoubi
----------------------------------------
In Doha
Camera: Nikon D3X
Lens: Nikkor 24-70mm f/2.8
Focal Length: 29mm
Aperture: f/11.0
Shutter Speed : 30
ISO: 200
Exposure: Manual
dedicated to marc thompson...
so yeah i did this model finally , now my ass is broken into 3 parts , my back has a 98.666cm³ desviation and i need a neck twist fior my neck to get to its original position
paper : tissue paper
size : 70 cm
time to fold : 14 hours
:D super proud of it
Dedicated to my contact . Nick Kenrick View his images here,www.flickr.com/photos/zedzap/, Thanks Nick for your inspiration. My image created to say thanks. Crazy idea to make an image for each contact as a way to say thank -you. Going in no order other than what pops into my mind!
Dedicated to
Gianva e Skyport64
www.youtube.com/watch?v=9LwrZgAXrgI
una mattina sui monti liguri....
Please don't use this image on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit permission. © All rights reserved
Dedicated to my stalwart Nostalgia Factory ally, Crimso Giger You rock matey!!
Very happy with this one; one of those RARE occasions when I feel like I nailed it. And therefore, as per the laws of Legodom, I bet no-one else likes it :)
dedicated to Maggie..:)
"The modest rose puts forth a thorn,
The humble sheep a threat’ning horn,
While the Lily white shall in love delight,
Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright.."
W.Blake
Dedicated for godness of love Lyelya. Посвящается богине любви Леле.
If you like my works you can donate me on www.patreon.com/lyopa5 and see more nude and not nude photos. Thank you!
Thanks for donates on patreon:
Norste
T H
Standof Foxy
MANITAS GEORGIOS
ALAIN VANDEPONTSEELE
nicola gamani
Alex