View allAll Photos Tagged Dissolving
The step-like terraces form as heated water moves along the Morris-Mammoth Fault. The hot water carries dissolved calcium and bicarbonate to the surface of the terraces where pressure lessens. Carbon dioxide then escapes as gas and the carbonate combines with calcium to precipitate as travertine
// A lone small tree smiles at the plentiful space given by the rising tide.
To be here is to dissolve back into that which you came.
Journey within
Shattering of the veil of illusion
which is merely the basis of your own perception
This journey is not for the faint hearted
With this journey comes the shattering of belief systems
Surrendering to what is
as opposed to how you want things to be
Honour the Goddess within
Allow for her to emerge
Wiser
Stronger
More loving
Sometimes we have to break into tiny pieces to awaken - in other words die to the ego
A wonderful summer day when i have last visited the great poet's grave.The warmth of the sun, the luxurious vegetation,the birds singing in the trees,the happy cats playing on the grass(the cemetery is also home to more then 50 abandoned cats that a Roman charity takes very good care of with the help of volunteers) the beauty of the magnifique monuments..... all gave the impression of an earthly paradise creating such a huge contrast with the bitterness of the words that the poet himself choose to be inscripted on his tombstone and everything i knew about his life .Sure hope at least in death his soul managed to find the peace that always escaped him during his life.
"Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
What thou among the leaves hast never known,
The weariness, the fever, and the fret
Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last grey hairs,
Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
And leaden-eyed despairs;
Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow."
From Ode to a Nightingale
Our embrace dissolves time, like waves that never cease. The sun shines in silence, but in the shadows, we feel its warmth.
This swan, by the River Test at Mottisfont, treated me to a view of a full 6 minute preening session.
I hardly ever use the burst function on my camera as it mostly results in a boring trawl through not very much. But the swan's resolve quickly dissolved my reluctance, so here is a small selection from my one hundred and five shots.
I understand that preening is usually a social activity but this swan always seems to be alone in the grounds of Mottisfont Abbey, so likely has lost its mate.
posting for Sliders Sunday
my gratitude for all your visits
Happy new week to come!
Green turns to red
Autumn leaves go to bed
Where the sky meets the earth
Lies the end of the search
Now grey
All colors reunite
Shadows merge with light
When all contrasts dissolve
Time for the story to close
The flames perform their last dances
Everything burns and turns into ashes
Like embers that glow
This is the end of the show
Music Mood
♫ DuoLia | Grey♫
The former Benedictine Abbey of St. Georgen is one of the most important Swiss architectural monuments from the late Middle Ages and early Renaissance. It was founded in the 11th century and underwent drastic structural changes in the 14th to 16th centuries and in the 19th century. The monastery includes cloistered buildings with a chapter house, refectories, dormitories, abbot's rooms and abbot's chapel. Of particular importance are the late Gothic cloister and the so-called banquet hall, built in 1515 under the last abbot, David von Winkelsheim. It houses one of the most important painting cycles of the early modern period north of the Alps. The monastery was dissolved in the course of the Reformation in 1525. In 1926, the Gottfried Keller Foundation acquired the monastery complex with the support of the Canton of Schaffhausen and the city of Stein am Rhein.
I photographed the Torre Velasca from the roof of the Duomo di Milano on a grey morning, with soft light filtering through the overcast sky. The image isolates the tower in color against a black-and-white cityscape, emphasizing its cantilevered top and angled supports. From this elevated vantage point, the contrast between postwar modernism and Milan’s historic architecture becomes even more pronounced.
I captured this scene from an overpass near Bologna Centrale station, across from the signal house with its steel framework spanning the tracks. In the center of the structure a large clock was mounted, clearly visible above the converging rails and electrical lines.
The design of the signal house itself stood out to me, its elevated form and intricate framework contrasting with the dense infrastructure of tracks, wiring, and surrounding urban buildings.
i was one atom my life complete
then the oven went on and i became a layered treat
now i am many atoms broken and bent
from times well spent and times well rent
we look at each other and shake our heads
knowing full well that we have made our own beds
some of us laugh and some of us cry
and we all know why.
soon enough now our atoms will dust
or rust or bust so lets not let them turn to hot ash
instead lets make them food for the angels and song for the last.
ENG: Summer holiday impressions. ☻
The Lech is a tributary of the Danube. The 256 km long river has its source in the Austrian Vorarlberg and flows through Tyrol and then through the German southern Bavaria, where it flows into the Danube. Shortly before the Austrian-German border it takes in the Vils, forms the artificial Lechfall "Wasserfall" before Füssen and crosses Swabia and Upper Bavaria on its way. The largest cities along the Lech are Landsberg and Augsburg, where it receives its largest tributary, the Wertach. Near Marxheim the river flows into the Danube.
As early as the 19th century, scientist John Tyndall proved that the color of a river is not due to the water (pure H2O), but to the minerals that the river brings with it. When the proportion of fine sediments is low, such as in snow or glacial ice, the sunlight is filtered and refracted so that the river appears bluish. If the proportion of dissolved and suspended minerals is higher, which, as in the case of the Lech, originate from limestone rocks, the coloration turns more turquoise.
•••
GER: Sommer Urlaubs Impressionen. ☻
Der Lech ist ein Nebenfluss der Donau. Der 256 km lange Fluss entspringt im österreichischen Vorarlberg und fließt durch Tirol und dann durchs deutsche Südbayern, wo er in die Donau mündet. Kurz vor der österreichisch-deutschen Grenze nimmt er die Vils auf, bildet vor Füssen den künstlichen Lechfall „Wasserfall“ und durchquert auf seinem Weg Schwaben und Oberbayern. Die größten Städte am Lech sind Landsberg und Augsburg, wo er seinen größten Nebenfluss, die Wertach, aufnimmt. Bei Marxheim mündet der Fluss in die Donau.
Bereits im 19. Jahrhundert wurde vom Wissenschaftler John Tyndall bewiesen, dass die Farbe eines Flusses nicht am Wasser (reines H2O), sondern an den Mineralien liegt, die der Fluss mit sich bringt. Wenn der Anteil an Feinstsedimenten gering ist wie etwa in Schnee oder Gletschereis, wird das Sonnenlicht so gefiltert und gebrochen, dass der Fluss bläulich erscheint. Bei höheren Anteilen gelöster und suspendierter Mineralstoffen, die wie beim Lech aus Kalkgesteinen herrühren, geht die Färbung mehr ins Türkise.
Mt. Tamalpais enveloped by fog
The fog over the bay was pretty amazing here. Everything north of San Rafael was basically invisible. San Francisco is under there somewhere.
The drive up Mt. Tamalpais makes for some very interesting shots for someone willing to deal with the drive. I wish it was possible to take sunrise photos here, but unfortunately the road opens at 7 in the morning.
This particular shot was a multi-part panorama from about 4 RAW files.
There are moments when our entire being dissolves into the night to expand to every corner of existence and we feel at once infinitely small and unimaginably endless... When we are tree and earthworm and moon and ocean, present to the primordial formation of galaxies and the collapse of supernovae, to the rise of life and the extinction of a myriad species.
🎵 Song of the Moment: The Killing Moon - Echo & The Bunnymen
Under blue moon I saw you, so soon you'll take me...
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Under fate, under destiny's killing moon, transformation doesn't ask permission—it simply happens.
They speak of alchemy as if it were ancient magic, dusty books and cryptic symbols. But I've learned its truth in the mirror, in the spaces between breaths, in the flutter of black wings against pale skin.
Nigredo: the darkness we must enter. The dissolving of what we thought we were.
Albedo: the purification. The stripping away. The becoming translucent, ghost-like, ready.
Rubedo: the final touch of crimson. The pulse that proves we're alive in our new form.
Black butterflies know this secret—that to fly, you must first embrace the death of crawling. That beauty lives in the spaces between destruction and rebirth. That sometimes the most profound transformations happen in monochrome, with just a whisper of red to remind us we're still burning.
Under this killing moon, I am neither what I was nor what I will be. I am the chrysalis split open. I am the wing still drying. I am the alchemical work in progress.
And the butterflies? They don't judge the metamorphosis. They simply understand it.
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In alchemy and in flight, we are forever becoming.
everything dissolves but only almost.
That's how I feel at the deli counter, too. If I don't have a number, I melt in front of the salesperson, even if there's only one other person in front of me and another number doesn't make sense.
Dissolve the line, Dissolve the sounds... series
________________________
Standing on the surface
Taking on the malice
Aiming at the fracture
Moving on the surface
Looking for an access
It's revolving
Standing on the surface
Breaking at the surface
Dissolve the line
Dissolve the sounds
Breaking up the movement
Closer panorama
It's revolving
Go away! Go away! Go away! Go away!
What do you want from me today?
Going through the tunnel of another drain
What is your purpose anyway?
Going through the tunnel of another strain
Spiral on the surface
Bouncing in a lead space
It's gyrating
Heading for destruction
Coming up the surface
Taking on the menace
It's revolving
Heading for destruction, more destruction, to destruction
Feel the power!
Standing on the surface
Taking on the malice
Moving on the surface
Looking for an access
Feel the power!
Fuel, Front 242, 1993
Valle Crucis Abbey Ruins
Cistercian monks loved all things austere. Solitude ruled absolute. Finding this remote yet magical location must have at least raised a smile or two amongst the serious-minded bretheren.
Building work got underway in 1201. Eight centuries later and the abbey is one of the best preserved in Wales. Even the monks’ fishpond is still full of water!
From its cloister to chapter house, with striking rib-vaulted roof, this abbey was shaped by the devout nature of its inhabitants. The abbey was also remarkably self-sufficient thanks to the lay brethren. They were happy to leave the choir monks to their prayers while they got on with the job of tending the land. All friends together? Not quite. The monks observed their daily offices in the choir, separated by a screen from the lay brethren who worshipped in the nave of the abbey church.
Far from an easy life, Valle Crucis Abbey suffered a serious fire and numerous attacks but went on to earn a reputation for its appreciation of the literary arts. In 1535 it was ranked the second richest Cistercian monastery after Tintern. By this time, the Cistercians had relaxed their orthodox austerity. A comfortable heated suite was created for the abbot. This new found wealth and hospitality didn’t last long. Valle Crucis was duly dissolved by royal decree in 1537.
Don't go far off, not even for a day, because —
because — I don't know how to say it: a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station
when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.
Don't leave me, even for an hour, because
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart.
Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.
Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,
because in that moment you'll have gone so far
I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,
Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?
Pablo Neruda
Beauty - www.flickr.com/groups/14647124@N23/, Ethereal City Beauty (135, 115, 25) - Moderado
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Ethereal%20City%20Beauty/1...
Continued interpretation of my "Searching" photo...
Processed with icolorama, procreate, superimpose & snapseed
Included in;
MOB PAINT MONDAY NO. 43 artofmob.blogspot.com/2015/08/Mob-paint-Monday-43.html