View allAll Photos Tagged Deepthoughts
Here's Ferdy up close and in deep thought. The man is always thinking, always coming up with fresh ideas, and he always knows how to frame the perfect shot and get the lighting just right.
nikonshmikon took this closeup shot with my Nikkor 85mm f/1.4D the other night after we spent the day shooting a wedding. I think he did a great job focusing here considering the razor think DOF.
My daughter was deep in thought, in pain from a migraine headache, and I imagine she was taking everything in. After all, it WAS the beginning of the get-together. She loosened up,,,,, WAY up,,,,,after awhile. So much so that her headache went away and she talked non-stop! LOL I love my babygirl. :)
'The medicine to cure hatred is not a bullet. The medicine to cure hatred is love.' - Younus AlGohar
People During the First Day of World Book Fair 2018 at Pragati Maidan in New Delhi on Saturday. Photo By Shaurya Yadav.
Kiki is a three-legged dog that likes to pose for the camera. She's gorgeous and has a lot to say without saying a word :)
This is a picture that I captured of a friend of mine. He was in deep thought after receiving a text message.
Gear: Canon IXY Digital
Location: Jade Emperor Pagoda, Vietnam
Notes: Wish I had my SLR Camera for this moment.
‘Those who acquired mystical knowledge as well as outer knowledge became spiritually and intellectually enlightened.’ - Lord Ra Riaz Gohar Shahi
Photo Assignment 4: Color and Portraits... together - Find a bright wall. Choose a color for your model to wear.
Only "Friends and Family" contacts can see the pictures of my students that I took for this assignment!
Ms. Deugarte agreed to be my model for this assignment. We had about 20 minutes after school to shoot. This is what she wore to work.
Hindus and Muslims Celebrate Social Harmony Week at India Gate in New Delhi on Tuesday. Photo By Shauray Yadav.
"Death ends a life. But it does not end a relationship; which struggles on in the survivor's mind, toward some resolution, which it may never find."
"I hate him.
And I hate hating him.
I hate what it does to me because ... when I am around him... I... somehow I shrink."
"Alice said I would not accept the sadness of this world. What does it matter if I never loved him or he never loved me?
Perhaps she was right. But still: When I hear the word father... it matters."[I never sang for my father, USA 1969]
This is not about guilt. Not about claims. Just about unchangableness. And a bit about desperation.
After a long break my father offered a "peace-meeting with coffee". It sounded promising in a silent way: Just the three of us, sitting together and talking about anything else but family trouble. - And I was pretty sure that it would come out differently. But still I agreed. After one and a half years of silence.
From the first moment the atmosphere was wrong. And now I dare to say: He didn't seem to be interested in peace at all. And after some akward silence stated "That's the way it's gonna be if family splits up."
He is so wrong about that. But as the talk (roundabout two hours) showed he is only interesterested in some special theory of family which is so unbearable constructed and far off the nowadays reality. Families are not perfect as it was shown on television in the early days. (And even the Waltons had trouble...) Sometimes a part of the parents went away. Sometimes the father or mother is not related to all the children by blood. Sometimes a child decides to leave the family forever. All this is off course not the perfect aim. But it can't be changed by force. And it should not be a reason to ignore the individuals.
So: I really would like to have a relation to my dad. But not just because of blood. - I tried to explain by showing the difference between friends and family. You can't choose family - but You can choose friends. And I for my life decided to prefer the last. And I made very clear that this doesn't exclude family members. But I chose for example my mother to be someone I want to meet. I want to spend time with her. I want to tell her about my life and to hear about hers. Among my best friends she is just the oldest one (in two kinds of meanings). And I so much would have him in a similar way being part of my life. For nearly thirty years now.
He said I have to accept that he will always be my father. That this is by nature and that I can't change it.
I don't want to write down the whole discussion. In big parts it seemed to go two different paths at the same time - his and mine not meeting. But I worked it out pretty clearly that I want to be with him from time to time. But that I need the feleing of beeing understood. That I cannot go all his ways with him, when nearly never having him go mine. That I am able to talk about things important to him, while unimportant to me - and really taking him seriously there - when he could do the same thing for me. The problem is this: He is no man, who comes home from work, grabbs a beer and a yellowpress paper. He has kilometers of bookshelves. He is deepthought. He is (metaphorical speaking) a priest, a therapeut, a wise man. Or at least likes to be seen that way. But he doesn't understand me. And that kills me.
And he said: No one has the right to have preconditions. And I say: Use another word - but I learned in the last years the importance of borders that I can have and call. That I need to be myself. And he says: "I have no borders but the ones that other built up against me."
And the talk is worth nothing at all.
He is hurting so bad. I mention my girlfriend - and some minutes later he gives my advice how to be and behave "if I ever have a relationship." Using that so wellknown tone of "If You don't tell me anything". Quite similar to his later used "If You think that's right than do it Your way" - which so perfectly indicates the exacte opposite - but never provable to anyone - so he is free of guilt... I ask him "How do You see me in twenty years. What do You believe where I'll be?" And he just says: "I don't see You in twenty years at all. I'll be dead then." And believe me: He might be childish or obstinate - but he is not dumb. So he knew pretty well what I was aksing. Ltare he tells me: "You can't understand me, because you are no father yet. But if You are 50 You will get sick. You will get ill. Your eyes will loose some more dioptrin, You'll get eye cataract..." And I just stopped him there. Defending myself. Defending my future.
After all the time I see no way. I want to escape but can't. And while searching his eyes for the whole talk - now short before the end I hide - or better: just watch at something else. The castle, the water, the streetsigns...
And then finally burst out a single time: "I am fed up with this. That talk was no peaceoffering. It was from the beginning only to show that You are right. That You don't cause the splitting up but that it would be us. I knew this before I came here pretty sure. But I came. And this is of no worth at all to you."
And he just sits there. Stubborn. Without any feelings in the face. And silently says: "But... You did never think about questioning yourself, did You?"
I am not sure but I think I did not even answer that. I question myself for half a life now. That is exactly the problem. It's pretty hard to change if You know the last details of Your fathers problems with your mum since being 15. If You have heard all his sorrows so often that it nearly breaks Your own neck. If You have shared his fears for so long - and do not even get a sign of him recognising that.
So at the end he dissapeared for a short moment - to pay coffee and cake before we got a chance. And then left. We shook hands. And off he went. And I guess this was goodbye. And it doesn't help at all, that I lost him several times before.
Right after that I went to the bathroom. And there I took the picture.
- - - - - - - - - - -
There are three plays and perhaps one movie which can give you an impression of my relationship towards my father. The plays are "Death of a salesman" (If You can watch the tv-production with the hauntingly convincing Lee J. Cobb) by Arthur Miller (and "All my sons" is quite similar, but it doesn't touch me as close), "A Touch of a poet" by Eugene O'Neill - and most gripping and hurting for me: "I never sang for my father" by Robert Anderson. The movie I mentioned would be "Big Fish" (directed by Tim Burton after the book of Daniel Wallace) - which still makes me cry - but has the problem that the father doesn't show any changes at all - while the end is still shown as a happy end... And partly "What dreams my Come" with Robin Williams - if You pay attention to the special moment where the father recognizes his son. Because the rest of it is pretty close to my fathers desperat stubbornness. And that's why I am so sure that love and madness can become pretty close.
[I found a handful of older pictures in my stream. And each gives a slightly different approach:
The last time it broke Day 16 Year 1
I didn't forget what we had for some time. Day 109 Year 1
I remember him Day 49 Year 1
But he hurts. Day 268 Year 1
with a mad perspective Day 161 Year 2]
The orangutans are the only exclusively Asian living genus of great ape. They are the largest living arboreal animals. They have longer arms than other great apes, and their hair is typically reddish-brown, instead of the brown or black hair typical of other great apes.
Native to Indonesia and Malaysia, they are currently found only in rainforests on the islands of Borneo and Sumatra, though fossils have been found in Java, the Thai-Malay Peninsula, Vietnam and China. There are only two surviving species, both of which are endangered: the Bornean Orangutan (Pongo pygmaeus) and the critically endangered Sumatran Orangutan (Pongo abelii).
I was a quick wet boy, diving too deep for coins
All of your street light eyes wide on my plastic toys
Then when the cops closed the fair, I cut my long baby hair
Stole me a dog-eared map and called for you everywhere
When I look at Keilani, as she stares off into the vastness that is this world, I can't help but wonder, "what is she thinking?" The world is so massive for her as I've witnessed on numerous occasions when I tower over her and she pees out of simple fright. But how does she see the rest of the world, and what does she think about the other things in life that could be considered as 'scary'? Maybe she just takes it one day at a time and lives from moment to moment, enjoying every last little bit. She is quite a happy dog, especially when she's chewing on things… Maybe she's plotting how to get over that fence… Maybe she's calculating the speed of the bird that just flew by… Or maybe, just maybe, she's thinking about how much we love her and couldn't imagine our lives without her. Either that or she's trying to figure out a way to con me into giving her another cookie…
Probably the latter.