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View allAll Photos Tagged Elspeth
Elspeth.
Atlanta, Georgia, USA.
5 September 2021.
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▶ Photo by Yours For Good Fermentables.com.
▶ For a larger image, type 'L' (without the quotation marks).
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▶ Camera: Olympus OM-D E-M10 II.
— Lens: Olympus M.40-150mm F4.0-5.6 R.
— Edit: Photoshop Elements 15.
▶ Commercial use requires explicit permission, as per Creative Commons.
Only man is not content to leave things as they are but must always be changing them, and when he has done so, is seldom satisfied with the result.
- Elspeth Huxley
Credits:
elprobadordesl.blogspot.com/2019/10/gotcha.html
LOCATION: BACKDROP CENTRAL: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Redemptions%20Creed/139/13...
Credits:
elprobadordesl.blogspot.com/2019/10/gotcha.html
LOCATION: BACKDROP CENTRAL: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Redemptions%20Creed/139/13...
© Leanne Boulton, All Rights Reserved
Street portrait from Glasgow, Scotland.
Black and white re-edit of a shot from 2015 and the 36th portrait of a stranger in my '100 Strangers' project. Elspeth, from Australia, was on a whistle-stop tour of Europe and now, 8 years later, I wonder what she thought of the place. Enjoy!
Long Sleeves V-neck Dress - Sophie's Selection @ CMP
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Peaches/32/96/1026
Truth - Elspeth @ The Season Story
. Infiniti . - Behind pose @ Romp
The Miracle Garden is a unique flower garden in the Erasmuspark in West Amsterdam, initiated and designed by the Amsterdam-based visual artist Elspeth Diederix.
~Attire:
(fd) Fashionably Dead - Chic Top - Leopard B
(New); Wax Leather Pants
~Shoes:
Phedora - Elspeth Platforms
~Hair:
[KNOX] Callie Hair
~Accessories:
-MONCADA PARIS- Coco Eyeglasses
Newphe - "Chanel" Necklace
-David Heather- Skalidi Clutch
Culture: Haida ?
Wood, Oil
Date Made: ca. 1880
Measurements: Overall: 32 cm x 17 cm x 35 cm
Place made: Canada: British Columbia
Date Acquired: 12 Apr 2018
How Acquired: Donated
Credit Line: Elspeth McConnell Collection
Object Number: 3261/124
Museum of Anthropology
University of British Columbia
About this object
History of use
Bowls such as this one were made and used by the First Nations of the northern Northwest Coast. They would typically hold the rich oil made from seal blubber or oolichan fish that is served to guests at feasts – a treasured condiment into which dried fish and meats would be dipped. “All of the guests except the greatest furnished their own trays and spoons,” noted ethnologist John Swanton in the winter of 1900/1901, describing the Haida feasts he witnessed; “Then the servants or slaves brought out food in trays and distributed it, beginning, of course, with the town chief.”
Physical description
Carved seal bowl. Oval shaped opening, seal head projects from one end, rear flippers from other end. Raised line carved around inside of the bowl’s cavity. Carved in low relief on the outside are stylized representations of flippers and joints. A solid carved line defines the seal’s eyelids. Varnish or stain over outer and inner surface, except on base.
Museum photos: collection-online.moa.ubc.ca/search/item?keywords=3261%2F...
Played around some more with the new wands. Thanks to New elementary and Elspeth De Montes for pointing out the connection with the lever-bases. After reading that I knew I had to try and make a windmill. I get bonus-points for the extremely clever name, yes? No? Oh well ;)
Family Member: Elspeth Paynesworth
In-world name: Ashling Alchemi
My dearest sister, Emma, I am hoping this letter finds you well and that the weather is more forgiving than it has been here. Every glimpse I get out of a window is always met with the most solid wall of fog I have ever encountered. I can only surmise we must be near the sea. I am fortunate to have been allowed to use a pen today. It's strange the luxuries one begins to miss here.
I am happy to report that my beloved visits me almost every day. Even in his ire, Father cannot separate us. Does he not wish to see his eldest marry before she withers of old age? I haven't many birthdays left before my 25th year, yet I cannot marry until I am free of this place. Do implore him. Dev and I are eager to wed. I am his faithful and devoted, as he is mine.
Dev keeps me abreast of all the latest news, relaying the juiciest gossip in our secret language so that no one else can hear it. He says you are well, for which I am glad, but I do worry. I have yet to receive your reply to my last 3 correspondences. It would mean ever so much to hear from you.
It is with great optimism that I write to you again in hopes of recruiting your aid in liberating me from this dismal prison that Father has so wrongfully committed me to. You are my dearest sister and, in truth, the only witness to the true nature of our antics. Please, tell Father of our little hoax. Confess our little game. The seances, the spirit board, all of it. Tell him how you rang the bell under the table with your foot and moved the table with your knee. Tell him it was I that blew out the candles when no one was looking. Please, I implore you! Surely we were not so skilled as to have fooled even the likes of the Great Houdini! Tell him! You, alone, hold the only key to ending this hellish dream I have been cast into! If you have ever loved me, dear sister, I beseech you. Divulge our secrets and end my misery once and for all!
The staff here at Rosewood all seem to be in on Father's little joke. I speak in plain English but they pretend not to understand. They tut and call it 'aphasia' and order more inhumane treatments to cure it. Lies. They are but torturing me. I am certain it is meant to drive me mad as punishment for our childish pranks. The limits of Father's cruelty knows no bounds.
Was it the Spiritualism? Is it because I leapt from the bedroom window to escape my confinement? Does he accuse me of witchcraft behind my back? Were he not conspiring against me with the Pope and the Bishop to punish me for my supposed sins, perhaps they would show some leniency. But, alas, Dev is my only confidant and shining light in this dark hour. Sometimes he is the only one I see for days. I am sustained by my devotion. He tells me their secrets in the dark of the night when we are alone, all the sinful shameful evil they conspire to commit that would make Jesus and all the saints bring hellfire upon this world, but he says they're in on it too. There is no one to save us, not even in death. No one except ym Dev. I have confronted the staff many times about their sins but they will not confess. They choose to condemn themselves to hell rather than reveal the rotten core of their hearts and repent. But I know Dev is righteous and honorable above all men and I am his. He carves it into my skin to remind you all, lest you forget. I am his. He chose me because I see. I see into the hearts of men. And I hear him. Don't you hear him, too, dear sister? Didn't you hear him when he whispered to you that night last June? Don't deny it, dear sister. I know you heard him. Ssefnoc!
You know his name. Devoleb ym. Enim. Enim. The intoxication. I wish you knew this evol. Retsis raed eil t'nod. Mih raeh uoy od? Noos gnimoc er'yeht. Tneper. Sruo eb lliw ytinrete dna em eerf lliw Devoleb. Seikooc dnes. Le Evol.